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When Walter showed up just after seven in his truck, she was disappointed at first to see that he was alone. Spotty chased the car until it reached the end of the drive and moved faster than he could keep up.
“Where’s Mae and Max?” Emmie asked.
Walter laughing and chewed on his pipe before he answered, “You think Mae’s gonna let Max go to a barn party at the Johnson’s… celebrating the fact that ain’t none of the Johnson’s going to jail?”
“Oh,” Emmie thought aloud, “I guess I hadn’t put all that together.” She started to feel a little out of place. What was she stepping into? Emmie bit her lower lip as she thought.
“Don’t fret about it, Emmie. Just gonna be some folks playing music and some good food. We ain’t gotta stay long. Just felt like I needed to show my support to him. Mr. Johnson’s been a friend,” Walter said as they made their way to the Johnson’s land.
Walter pulled his truck into the flat area about fifty feet from the barn. They were actually in an older barn. Walter pointed out their newer one off in the distance.
“How close are we to the river?” Emmie asked. Except for the glow of the lights from the barn and the stars in the sky it was so pitch black she couldn’t see the river but she could hear water rushing in the distance.
“It’s just right there. If there was a fuller moon tonight, you’d see it,” Walt answered, pointing to his right.
As they neared the party she could hear music coming from the barn. Banjos, guitars, and a jug band were set up near the back. From the looks on the smiling faces they’d hit the ’shine early. There was a group of teenagers dancing at the front of the barn.
For a barn, it was pretty nice. It was certainly not like the small rundown shelter left on her farm. The Johnson family had swept and raked the dirt floor, leaving only soft earth in its place. Every shelf and table was filled with candles and lanterns. None of them matched but the warmth of the light made the area seem inviting. The barn was tall, double story at least. Some of the shingles from the roof were missing—it was like the party opened right up into the heavens. A sliver of moonlight and stars shined over them. A few rows of picnic tables were set up along the sides where most of the older folks had parked for the evening. There were also a few chairs scattered here and there but most folks were standing. Several people were grouped off, talking and laughing. Emmie recognized several people from Ronnie’s church and school.
She even recognized a few of them as Ronnie’s friends. Walter and Mr. Johnson of course, but then there were two others. She didn’t know one by name but she’d seen him around the house. He was a short, balding, pudgy man with a scraggly brown beard. He’d always given her the creeps. One of his eyes was black and swollen shut. He was sitting next to a pretty good friend of Ronnie’s, Sam Young. He’d even stopped by once to check on her and get some tools Ronnie had borrowed from him. Sam smiled and waved a polite hello then turned and said something to the bearded man with a black eye.
Emmie waved and glanced around. Some of the men were drinking from brown bags, she assumed that was Walter’s ’shine. Just as she turned to ask him, she noticed he was no longer by her side, but halfway to the picnic benches with a wide grin on his face. Bart Johnson stood and put his hand out for Walter. The two shook hands then Walter took a seat to Mr. Johnson’s left. Everyone laughed as Mr. Johnson said something. Walter refilled his pipe and smiled, forming deep creases around the corner of his eyes when he laughed. This was the most laid back Emmie had ever seen him. He looked up and made eye contact with Emmie. She could tell his eyes were asking if she was alright. She nodded. He motioned with his thumb for her to join the younger folks and smiled. She nodded again and made her way deeper into the barn.
Bo wasn’t lying about the dress code. Everything was casual and comfortable. Walter fit right in with most of the men in his bibbed overalls. Emmie had worn one of her mama’s old hemmed-up dresses. It was soft worn cotton with a tiny pink flower pattern. If she’d worn one of Ava’s Chicago dresses, she would have been laughed right out of this place. The air had a chill and she wished she had worn her wool stockings rather than push down socks. She gave the room another scan. She hadn’t talked to these people in months… well years for some of them. She didn’t know who to talk to and decided to start over at the food table. Everything was set up like a big buffet. The barbeque smelled divine as she helped herself to some and took a corn cake too.
“It’s as good as it smells,” Bo said, coming up beside her.
“I sure hope so. Everything is nice out here. You got music and everything.” She balanced her plate in one hand and pointed to the band with the other.
Bo smiled. “Yeah, it’s a pretty big celebration.” He spooned a huge helping of barbeque and all the sides he could squeeze onto his plate.
“Want to sit with me and my sister?” he asked, leading them over to a couple chairs on the opposite side.
“Lead the way,” she said, falling into step next to him.
Emmie was surprised how much his younger sister Millie had grown. She was pretty, earthy pretty not flapper pretty. Her straight blond hair hung long, just past her shoulders. Her blue eyes widened and she smiled as she saw Bo and Emmie nearing.
“Emmie, we’re so glad you came.” She stood and gave her a hug. “It’s been a long time since we saw you. Everyone’s been worried about you.” Millie’s voice was soft and quiet.
“It’s good to see you too. You look lovely,” Emmie said.
As they ate, they fell into an easy conversation. It was nice here. Emmie could breathe. She had space to think and no secrets to hide. A few young people gathered around their chairs. Some eating, some sipping from paper bags, some just talking and tapping their toes to the music. One of the girls pulled out a flask. Emmie was pretty sure it was one of Bo’s cousins but their family was so big she couldn’t tell where one Johnson stopped and another family started.
“Wanna try it?” Bo asked, holding it out to her.
“Umm… no thanks,” she said.
“Come on, Ma made it with your water.” He wiggled his eyebrows again. “It’s not that strong, promise.”
“Bo, since when is moonshine not that strong?” she laughed.
“This is mainly peach juice… like a cider. Mama calls it Georgia’s peach ’shine.” He smiled.
Emmie felt her pulse picked up. Georgia’s peach ’shine. She’d had that at the Smith’s Grove speakeasy. It had been what had given her the idea to turn Walter’s ’shine into apple pie ’shine—this was all connected. The Johnson’s were selling moonshine to the speakeasy… Silas had represented Bart Johnson in the case against Cliff Harris. Emmie took a good look around at the many faces she recognized—a few were strangers. She looked at each of them closer. One of the men in the band, the one playing the banjo. It was Sheriff Drake.
“Emmie, it’s fine. Mr. Drake don’t mind about the ’shine. He keeps us safe from those crazy ole bastards like Cliff Harris. Remember that tradition I told you about? Well, Mr. Drake gets it, he understands our heritage.” Bo would have no way to know the real reason that Emmie’s heart pounded out of her chest. She was right earlier. This place wasn’t about keeping secrets inside—it was about them all coming out in the open.
The Sheriff and his son were here. Bo’s pap made moonshine, and by the looks of his house and their new barn, they were making decent money off it. All the pieces were starting to fit together. Curiosity overwhelmed her. She turned and faced Bo and looked at his flask. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if his family sold their ’shine to a speakeasy but she decided to hold on to her secrets. Emmie didn’t want him wondering how she knew about the joint. So, she went with plan B—act like the girl he expected her to be.
“You promise it’s not too strong? I don’t want to make a fool of myself and spit it out everywhere,” she said.
Bo unscrewed the cap and took a sip. He swallowed it down without the smallest winc
e and smacked his lips to let her know how good it was. He shrugged his shoulders and held the flask out to her. “Like cider that warms your throat. And if you need to spit,” he glanced around and winked, “nobody’s watching.”
Emmie smiled then turned her attention to the flask. She closed her eyes and took a swig. She sighed and licked the residue from her lips. That was it, the same ’shine. When she opened her eyes she noticed Bo had leaned in, smiling at her reaction. Something behind him caught her attention. Her heart stopped. Emmie opened her mouth to utter a warning but she was too late.
Bo was caught off guard or he may have been able to defend himself against the attack.
“Silas,” Emmie shouted, kicking her way out of the chair. “Stop!”
Chapter Thirty-three
Silas picked Bo up over the back of his chair and shoved him against one of the supporting posts in the barn.
“Silas,” Emmie repeated, “what are you doing? Stop!”
Silas reared back his fist and punched Bo square in the jaw. At first Bo looked confused but that quickly faded to anger. He picked up his feet in an attempt to kick Silas off him but wasn’t exactly successful. Silas took a step back but never let go of Bo’s shirt.
Emmie stared at the pair with her hand clasped over her mouth. They were in a full-fledged brawl. Why in the world were they fighting? She couldn’t believe Silas would jump straight to hitting. Wouldn’t he say something first if it was just jealousy? She didn’t understand what was going on, but she did know she had to stop it. Emmie glanced around for help. Most people hadn’t even noticed the fight. Only those in their immediate vicinity had circled around them. She knew it wouldn’t take long for others to catch on but she was afraid for Silas when they did. This party was full of Bo’s family. They weren’t going to take too kindly to the sight of him getting beat up by a stranger.
Millie took off toward the picnic tables. Smart girl, she was likely going for her family. Family. Emmie knew Silas wouldn’t come here alone. Pushing through the small crowd Emmie saw Trick and Gabe. She let out a breath in relief. They could break this up. They stopped when they reached the inside of the circle. She couldn’t believe it. They were just watching. Still, silent, arms relaxed at their sides, they watched.
“Gabe, Trick.” She looked at each one. “Stop him. They’re hurting each other.”
Gabe grabbed her arm and turned his attention back to the fight. Emmie couldn’t believe it. They weren’t going to break it up. This was ridiculous. Bo and Silas were shouting obscenities at each other but no one could really understand either of them. She felt nauseous watching them trade licks. They were both hurt and bleeding. But Silas had the upper hand now. She couldn’t take it anymore.
She pulled away from Gabe and pushed herself toward the fight. Emmie shouldn’t have been surprised when she got hit. After all, that’s what happens when you get in the middle of a fight. It felt like her cheek was split open. Surely, the pain was bound to be worse than it actually was, right? Letting go of her cheek she stretched her arms wide and put one hand on each of their chests.
“Stop it,” she panted.
Emmie felt them moving toward each other. She pushed as hard as she could on their chests but her weight was split in opposite directions. They barely moved an inch. She turned to face Silas. He lifted a hand and gingerly touched her cheek. He glared at her then turned his eyes to Bo.
“What’s your damn problem, Yankee?” Bo shouted, wiping blood from his mouth.
“You,” Silas said.
“You think you can just come onto my family’s land and hurt me? I don’t know what you’re used to up north but that ain’t how shit works down here,” Bo said.
“Hurt you?” Silas grinned, “No, I wanted to hurt you when I threw your ass against the wall.” Silas swallowed hard. “But Hillbilly, I could kill you for leaving that mark on her face.”
Silas grabbed Emmie with one arm and pulled her behind him. With the other arm he produced a gun from nowhere and held it point-blank at Bo. His chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm but it was the only part of him that seemed to move. His arm, stick straight. His gaze focused.
Emmie was frozen. Her brain said grab the gun, grab the gun, but she couldn’t get her arms to move. Even if she wanted to, she wasn’t sure she could move from Silas’s grip. That’s when she heard it. The rhythmic sound she’d been waiting for since this argument started—the double clicks of a shotgun. She turned around and found Bo’s pap, Mr. Johnson, with a double-barreled shotgun pointed straight at Silas’s back. He wasn’t close but with that weapon, he didn’t have to be. Even she could hit a target with a shotgun.
“Now, easy there boy. I appreciate all ya done for me but I can’t let you be putting holes in my grandson. Ya best be putting that pistol down,” the old man said. Emmie noticed as he spoke he only had about half the teeth God had given him. His voice was easy and calm but his eyes were wild. She knew he would pull the trigger, if he had to.
But before she could finish the thought, Trick stepped up behind the old man. “And I can’t let you be putting holes in my brother,” he said coldly. Emmie didn’t have to guess. She could tell by the arch in the old man’s back that Trick had a gun at his back.
Finally her body came into motion again. She stepped in close to Silas and gently put her hand on his outstretched arm. “Stop this. This is all out of hand. Bo is my friend. Whatever you think you saw, you didn’t.”
Silas laughed. It came out as a cold, unhappy sort of sound. “It’s him isn’t it?”
“What?” she asked confused.
Silas leaned over and whispered quiet enough that others couldn’t hear but he never took his eyes off Bo, “He’s the bootlegger you’ve been protecting from me.”
That’s what this was about. It wasn’t just jealousy about her sitting here with Bo. He thought Bo was the one she gave the moonshine to. He was so mad when he left her house the other night and now he thought Bo was the man she was keeping secret.
“No,” she whispered quickly, “not him. Wrong guy. Stop this.”
He believed her. She could tell because his eyes changed. He released the hammer on the revolver slowly and pulled the gun back to his side. Emmie glanced back to see Mr. Johnson had lowered the shotgun. Trick moved over to stand near his brother.
“Stay out of my way,” Silas spit at Bo and then added, “and stay away from her.”
“She’s a pretty smart girl. Never needed nobody to do her talking before; probably doesn’t need you to start now,” Bo said.
Emmie rolled her eyes at the pair of them and let out a sigh. Silas turned to take a step toward Bo. She pushed against his chest with everything she had. “We need to go, now.” Her voice left no room for argument.
Clearly, Gabe agreed because he touched his friends elbow and nodded toward the entrance of the barn. Emmie realized for the first time since the start of the confrontation that everyone was watching. Even the music had stopped. The sheriff had come nearer to the fight but hadn’t pushed his way to the center.
“Thanks for the help, Sheriff,” she said as they walked past him. She was disgusted that he hadn’t stepped in. Grown men had pulled guns on one another and he’d just stood there with his stupid banjo.
She turned her sights on the exit. Walter was standing there like a guard. His face was set in a grim line. Silas had a hold of her arm and was leading her out. Walter had no intention of letting her pass. Oh God. Walter. If he acted too protective, Silas might figure it out. She didn’t know if Silas knew the moonshiners in this town but it wasn’t worth the risk. What if he pulled that gun on Walter? Would she be able to stop him? Would the Johnsons intervene? She wasn’t sure.
Emmie shook her head no at him. She mouthed, “I’m Fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest. She turned her serious expression to a plea. “Please. Let. Me. Go,” she mouthed. She saw Walter sigh. He didn’t like this. He rubbed his whiskers and then nodded once. He had to trust her. Walter d
idn’t know what she was playing but she was a smart girl.
“Trick, drive. Emmie, in the back. Now,” Silas commanded as they reached the car. When she got settled into the back, she looked out the window and noticed Walter was making his way to his truck. She was relieved to see he hadn’t chased them down.
Emmie closed her eyes and rested her head against the seat. The moisture gathering behind her eyelids threatened to leak out. She did her best to keep it at bay but that only made her throat swell. She felt something soft and cool against her cheek. It stung a little, she sucked in her breath and popped open her eyes. Silas was leaning over her pressing a handkerchief to her wound.
“I’m sorry you are hurt,” he said. His voice was still gruff and clipped but honest.
Emmie didn’t know what to say to him, so she said nothing. She grabbed the cloth from him, pressed it firmly to her cheek and closed her eyes. Maybe when she opened them again, this would all just be a dream.
Chapter Thirty-four
Emmie’s body swayed with the rhythm of the car. She opened her eyes and stared up at the roof. No, not a dream. Occasionally the dirt path would thrust her into Silas’s shoulder. He visibly scooted away from her. Good, she didn’t want to touch him anyway.
The car was silent until they reached the road at the end of the farm. “That sure was a fun party. Thanks for bringing us along, Silas,” Trick said. Gabe laughed. Silas said nothing he just pulled a cigarette out of his vest pocket and lit it, hiding a smirk.
This was not funny. How could they joke about this? Emmie swallowed and wet her lips. She found her voice and spoke up, “Actually, it was a fun party. People were eating, dancing, visiting… Then some jerks showed up and caused a big dramatic scene.”
Gabe and Silas stopped laughing and were stone silent. A moment of awkward silence filled the car. Silas nodded and looked down. He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times and rubbed his forehead before he spoke.
Shine On Page 16
