The Adventures of Moss Boss & Dixie

The problem with living in Placerville was that everybody knew everything.

Or at least they thought they did.

By eight-thirty that morning, three people on Main Street had already claimed the giant oak near the courthouse was haunted, cursed, unstable, hollow, or connected to hidden Gold Rush tunnels. One guy even swore he'd heard voices coming from it.

Moss Boss suspected the voices were probably just tourists.

Beside him in the black Elite Pressure Pros truck, Dixie sat upright in the passenger seat, ears twitching beneath her safety harness as they rolled past the Bell Tower.

"You hear that?" Moss Boss asked casually.

Dixie gave him a look.

"Yeah," he nodded slowly. "That's what I thought too."

The giant oak sat near the courthouse like a sleeping monster.

Even cut into sections, it looked enormous. A crowd had already gathered around it—which in Placerville meant: seven locals, three tourists, one guy holding coffee, and at least two people giving opinions nobody asked for.

But Dixie wasn't listening. She froze. Her nose twitched. Her ears lifted. And suddenly, she became very focused on the dirt beneath the oak.

That worried Moss Boss more than the rumors.

Nearby, three kids argued beside the caution chain surrounding the display. Tyler—the loud one in the red hoodie—grinned confidently. "There's no way tunnels are actually under there." "We probably shouldn't be over here," Eli said nervously. "That's quitter talk." Sofia crossed her arms. "That sentence is usually said right before something dumb happens."

Tyler ducked under the chain anyway.

Then— crk.

The ground beneath him shifted. Dixie barked sharply. Tyler jumped backward. The crowd turned. Moss Boss moved instantly.