Paul On George's Dad -- One For PK7

It was early yet when my grandfather and I pulled up to the end of the road where he told the two young workers to meet him. My excitement turned to fear when I saw the police car and the local Deputy tapping his nightstick hard in the palm of his other hand. My grandfather got out, quietly walked up close and told the men to get in the back. Next, we all heard it, "Old man, what the hell do you think you are doing?" I did not hear my grandfather's response as he seemed to all but whisper it in the Deputy's ear. The Deputy took several steps back almost as if he had seen a ghost, composed himself and waved us on as we drove off. Waved us on like he was doing us a favor... It took me about a week to summon the courage to ask my grandfather what he said on that early morn. I knew enough even at my young age to inquire out of my grandmother's earshot. By this time I had fantasized about learning a secret never fail, bad ass phrase to use on the bullies back home. Seems my grandfather asked him if he wouldn't mind getting his tools and lending a hand for we were about to be late for our job at a nearby camp where the High Sheriff waited to personally supervise our work on his most prized possession. To heroes and days gone by...