Chicken Thieves, moonshiners, and the law

My Grandma was a friend to the outlaw. During the Depresion when most had to keep livestock, and gardens to live, Ma, as the locals called her, hid out the rift raft. The Revenuers would knock on her door, and yell, "We know you're hiding them Haddie," her other given name.
She would shout back through a bolted door,"No I am not!" But , of course, she was.
Because of her heroics, everyone's chickens in the area would end up being stollen , but not Grandma's.
In the picture, a varment got that chicken. It was not a clever chicken thief.

I was thinking this morning, I come from a long line of shady characters. I had one relative who salted coal mines with flecks of gold, and then sold the mines as gold mines. When the rubes caught on, they were ready to string him up, but by luck or just pure deftness, he escaped the noose. Some time later, he returned to the county to tell others that he was dying, which was the truth, and when he did pass, there was one Hell of send off. Those he had cheated cried, wailed at his wake. I would not have been surprised if someone did not slip him a donation into his casket.
My Uncle Kenneth was a liar. He would lie even when it did not benefit anyone. he could not tell the straight of anything.