“What does it say?”
“One seventy.”
“Very good.”
“My goodness, if it’s that strong at the start we can run it clear down to thirty and it’ll still be one hundred when we mix it for the keg.”
“We’ll run till it mixes one twenty-five.”
“The more we get the more we’ve got.”
“Maybe this is a case where the less you act like a hog, the more you put on some fat. We can run it till we got a lot and put it in the wood at a hundred. But then it dries out and gets weaker, and if it’s weak it won’t sell. And the weaker it is, the slower the charcoal works on it. If we put it in strong, we got color, flavor, and mellowness in a month, anyway enough to be a big help when it’s mixed with regular liquor. But at a hundred we could be a year and we’d get nothing they’d pay us for. The longer we got to keep it, the more kegs we got to buy, the longer we wait for our money.”
“That money’s what I want.”
“Then watch it, it don’t get too weak.”
“Then anyway we can have music.”
She had a little radio up there by then, and turned it on, and I didn’t mind, as it would be a long day, watching that stream off the end of the pin.
“And a drink.”
“What?”
“What we making the stuff for?”
“You mean this?”
“Sure.”
She climbed up, got a bottle of Coca-Cola out of the basin the spring ran into, and the tin cup we kept there. When she came down she poured from the jar to the cup, dumped some Coca-Cola in, and handed it to me.
“Taste it, it’s good.”
Now nobody could live their life in mountain country without learning plenty about whisky, but that was the first time I ever tasted it. It tasted like Coca-Cola at first, but then I began to feel good, and wanted another swallow. She had the cup by then, taking a swig, and then was when I knocked it out of her hand.
“There’s to be no drinking in this.”
“I’ll have a drink if I want to.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Will you kindly tell me why?”
“We got work to do for one thing. I get careless with this fire, so it’s too hot, this whole thing could explode so easy you wouldn’t believe it. And later, when it’s dark, we’ve only just begun. We’ve got to lower this spent mash down, so we can feed it to the hogs and not have it all over the place, and we can’t do that or anything if we’re up here drunk. And we’ll get drunk, if we take enough of it. They all do. I’ve seen them. And besides, it’s wrong.”
“You believe all you hear in church?”
“I believe what I feel.”
“For God’s sake.”
Because by then I loved her so much I wanted to be weak, and do what she meant we should do, but my love made me strong too, so I knew I wouldn’t do it. With liquor in me, though, I didn’t know what I would do, or what she could make me do. “You heard me, Kady? That’s one thing we don’t do.”
“I heard you.”
C H A P T E R
4
And there came the night when we drove into Carbon City with our first hundred quarts, packed in every bag and sack and poke I could find, and yet all you could hear was glass, rattling louder even than the truck. I thought I would die, and when she left me, after I parked by the railroad, everything from the chirp of crickets to the clank of yard signals just gave me the shivers. After a long time she was back, with a café man, and he had a flashlight, so I wanted to holler at him, and tell him to put it out. But we had it set that she’d do the talking, so I sat there and wiped off sweat. They talked along, and he put the light on a bottle for color, then did some tasting and handed it back. “It might not be so bad, sister, except it’s all full of caramel.”
“O.K. I’ll take it up the street.”
“Can’t you taste it?”
“What would I be tasting it for? I made it, dumbbell. That color’s charcoal, that I burned in the keg myself, as anybody would know except maybe a jerk that hadn’t seen good booze for so long he’s forgot what it’s like. But it’s all right, and no tard feelings. I’ll just take it where they know what it means to have some hundred ten proof in the house that makes blended stuff taste like something, and kick a little bit too.”
“What do you mean, hundred ten proof?”
“Get your tester.”
“Mine’s broke.”
“Then I brought one.”
She got out the hydrometer and let him take a reading. “If you think that gauge is loaded, try a slug yourself.”
He took a swig, while she stood there looking at him so sinful it made me sick to think she was any part of me. Then he took another, and you could see it take hold. “What are you asking for it?”
“Ten dollars a gallon.”
“I’ll give you four.”
“Oh, I’m going up the street.”
“No, wait a minute, let’s talk.”
They closed at six, and I ran them to the alley back of his place, where he went in and got the money and had the bottles carried in. Then she jumped in beside me.
“Come on, Jess, let’s celebrate.”
“What do you call celebrating?”
“Just going somewhere, having a good time.”
“What was the idea, looking at him like that?”
“Well my goodness, I was selling him booze.”
“What else were you selling him?”
“The way you talk.”
We drove under a bridge, then came to a café called the White Horse and stopped. I had never been in a place like that, but I no sooner saw it than I knew it was the kind of place I’d been hearing about all my life, and that it was bad. The lights were low, and on one side was a bar, on the other side booths, and in the middle a place where couples were dancing to slow music that came out of a box at one end, with lights in it. The crowd no sooner saw Kady than they began to yell, and come to find out it was where she used to work. I didn’t thank her when she said she’d brought her old man, and I didn’t offer to shake anybody’s hand. We sat down in a booth and I told the girl two Coca-Colas. “Make mine a rum coke.”
“Two Coca-Colas.”
“Listen, Jess, I want a drink.”
“We’re going home.”
“If you don’t like it here, you can go home, and I’ll stay, and I’m quite sure somebody will take me in for the night.”
So anything that meant she might leave me, that got me, and I shut up. But I was swelling up thick inside.
In the next booth was a girl and two men, that were mine guards from the way they talked, and when one of them and the girl left, the other one got up and asked Kady to dance. She went off with him, and they went to the music box, and their heads were together while they dropped in their nickel. Then they danced, and when the tune was almost over they danced by the box, stopped, and dropped more money in, at least a dozen nickels, one right after the other. Then when a tune stopped, it would be only a few seconds before another one started, but during that time they didn’t stop dancing. They stood there, swinging to the music that wasn’t playing any more, and then when it started again they’d go off. About the third tune, they made signs to the bartender, and he made them drinks that they picked up as they went around, and sipped, and left on the bar. About the tenth tune they were dancing with their faces up against each other, and had forgot their drink. Then they stopped and stood there whispering. Then she came over and picked up her handbag. “I won’t be long, Jess.”
“Where you going?”
“Just for a walk. Get a little air.”
“You’re coming home.”
“Sure. Soon we’ll go.”
“We’re going now.”
The man walked over and stepped between us. “Listen, pop, take it easy why don’t you?—so we don’t have any trouble.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“You’re Kady’s father, so she
says.”
“And I’m taking her home.”
“Not unless she wants to go, pop. Now the way she tells me, she feels like taking a walk, and that’s what we’re going to do. So sit down. Don’t get excited. Have yourself a drink, and when her and me get back you’re taking her home. But not before.”
He put on his hat, one of those black felts turned down on one side like a mountain gunman wears, and looked me in the eye. He was tall and thin, and I could have broke him in two, but that gun was what I kept thinking about. A mine guard is never without it, and he knows how to use it, and he will use it. I could feel the blood pounding in my neck, but I sat down. He turned to his booth and sat down.
While we were having that, she had said something to him about the ladies’ room, and gone back there. I sat with my throat pounding heavier all the time, until a door back there opened, and she started walking up to his booth. I don’t remember thinking anything about it. But when she was almost to him, I grabbed that booth partition, and pulled, and it crashed down, and there he was, sprawling at my feet. I was on him even before she screamed, and when that gun came out of his pocket, I had it. I brought it down on his head, he crumpled, I aimed, and pulled the trigger. But I had forgot the safety catch, and before I could snap it off, they grabbed me.
“This court, unless compelled, is not going to make a criminal out of a father defending the honor of a daughter. But is not going to overlook, either, a breach of the peace that could have had the most serious consequences. Tyler, do you realize that if these witnesses hadn’t prevented it, you would have killed a man, that you would now stand before me accused of the crime of murder, that it would be my unescapable duty to hold you for the grand jury, and that almost certainly you would in due time be found guilty, sentenced, and hanged?”
“Yes sir.”
“Do you think that’s right?”
“I guess I don’t.”
“How much money is in your pocket?”
“Fourteen dollars, sir.”
“Then just to impress it on your mind that this is more than a passing matter, you can pay the clerk here a fine of ten dollars and costs for disorderly conduct—or perhaps you’d rather spend the next ten days in jail?”
“I’d rather pay, sir.”
“Young woman, how old are you?”
“Nineteen, sir.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“I—don’t know, sir.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“Well, I was drinking Coca-Cola, but you know how it is. Sometimes they put a little something in it, just for fun, but tonight I don’t know if they did or not.”
“Lean over here, so I can smell your breath.… How can you have the cheek to tell me you don’t know if you’ve been drinking or not, when you’re half shot, right now? Aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you realize that I can hold you with no more evidence than that as a wayward minor, and have you committed to a school?”
“I didn’t know it, sir.”
“There are a great many things you don’t seem to know, and my advice to you is that you turn over a new leaf, and do it now. I’m remanding you into the custody of your father, and on the first complaint from him, you’re up for commitment. Do you understand that, Tyler? If there’s any more trouble like what went on in there tonight, you don’t grab a gun and start shooting. You come to me, and the proper steps will be taken.”
“Yes, sir, I understand it.”
“Next case.”
Going home she was laughing at how funny it was, that he hadn’t asked her how much money she had, because she still had every cent of the hundred and fifty dollars we had got for the liquor, but after we got home and got a fire going and ate something and drunk some coffee, I shut her up. “You want to go to that reform school?”
“You mean you’d send me?”
“If you don’t shut up, I might.”
“Can’t I even laugh?”
“He was right.”
Then we began to talk, and I tried to tell her how it scared me, that I had almost killed a man. “And you, don’t it shame you, you were making up to two men tonight, within ten minutes of each other?”
“What’s to be ashamed of?”
“It’s blood.”
“Listen, if I hear any more of this Morgan stuff—”
“I tell you, it’s in-breeding. It’s what we both got to be afraid of. It’s in us, and we ought to be fighting it. And stead of that—”
“Yeah, tell me.”
“We’re not.”
“Well say, that’s terrible.”
“ ‘Shining, shooting, and shivareeing their kin, that’s what they say of people that live too long on one creek. I thought I was too good for that. But today, right up in that mine, I ran off five gallons of liquor that’s against the law. This evening I almost killed a man.”
“And tonight you’d like to have me.”
“Stop talking like that!”
“What were you shooting him for?”
“You ought to know.”
“You must be loving me plenty.”
“I told you, quit that!”
“Have a drink with me?”
“No!”
“How about you going to reform school?”
C H A P T E R
5
One night when I got through the run I took a walk up the creek, and when I came to the church I kept on up the hollow, and pretty soon sat down by a tree and tried to think. We had had some trouble that day. Now the money was coming in she kept buying clothes, blue and yellow and green dresses, and red coats, and hats with ribbons hanging down the side, and every night we’d drive in town to the White Horse, and they wouldn’t serve her liquor any more but we’d have some Cokes, and then she’d dance and carry on with whoever was there, and then I’d take her home. But in the daytime she got sloppier and sloppier, and one day when it got hot she took off her shoes. And this day she said it was so hot by the still she couldn’t stand it, and slipped off her dress so she was in nothing but underwear and hardly any of that, and began dancing to the radio, swaying with the music with one hand on her hip and looking me in the eye. Well, in the first place, in a coal mine it’s the same temperature all the year round, and that little bit of fire I had in there, what with the ventilation we had, didn’t make any difference at all. So we had an argument about it, and I made her put her clothes on and cut off the music. Then she said: “Jess, did it ever strike you funny, one thing about this place?”
“What’s that?”
“If a woman was attacked in here, there’s nothing at all she could do about it.”
“Couldn’t she bite? Or kick? Or scratch?”
“What good would it do her?”
“Might help quite a lot.”
“Not if the man was at all strong. She could scream her head off, and not one person on earth would hear her. I’ve often thought about it.”
I made her get out of there and go down to the cabin and catch up on some of the work. But I was hanging on by my teeth by that time, and I was a lot nearer giving up the fight, and going along with her on whatever she felt like doing, even getting drunk, than I wanted her to know. That was when I took this walk up the creek, and past the church, and through Tulip, trying to get control of myself, and maybe pray a little, for some more strength.
And then, from up among the trees, I heard something that sounded like a wail. Then here it came again, closer. Then I could make out it was a man, calling somebody named Danny. And then all of a sudden a prickle went up my back, because I knew that voice, from the million times I had heard it at the company store and around the camp and in my own home. It was Moke, but he wasn’t singing comical stuff to a banjo now. He was scared to death, and slobbering at the mouth as he called, and in between moaning and whispering to himself. He went stumbling along to his cabin, and I followed along after him, and watched while he stood in the door,
a candle in his hand, and called some more. Then when he went inside I crept up and peeped through a chink in the logs. He was a little man, but I never saw him look so little as he looked now. He was sitting on the clay floor, in one corner, the banjo leaning against the wall beside him, his head on his arms, and shaking with sobs so bad you thought they were going to tear him apart.
I was shook up plenty myself, because if there was one person in this world I hated it was him, and after all Kady had said, and all I knew from before, I couldn’t help wondering what he was doing here, and I knew it had to be something that meant me. So I could feel some connection when I came to my cabin, and from the back room I could hear a baby crying. I went inside, and at the sound of the door, a woman called to know if it was Kady. I said it was Kady’s father. She came out then, and from the tall, thin shape she had, and the look of her face and color of her eyes, I knew she was a Tyler. “I think you’re my girl Jane.”
“And you’re my father.”
We shook hands, and I patted her hand, and then we sat down, and both of us wanted to give each other a kiss but were too bashful. “Can I call you Father?”
“I don’t mind.”
“I used to call you Pappy.”
“You remember that?”
“I remember a lot, and how sweet you was to me, and how much I loved you, and how tall you was.”
“Why not call me Jess?”
“Isn’t that fresh?”
“Kady does, but of course she is fresh.”
“It’s so wonderful about her.”
“… What about her?”
“Everything.”
She looked down at the floor, and you could see she was awful happy about something, and then she said: “You know about Danny?”
“Who’s Danny?”
“Didn’t she tell you?”
Three by Cain Page 38
