The Moonshiner's Daughter (ARC)

by Donna Everhart

  back. Several hundred feet from the site, near to the start of the creek head, I could hear them arguing.

  Oral shouted, “Give it here!” and when they came into

  view, Uncle Virgil had a jar held over his head, and Oral was jumping for it.

  Uncle Virgil turned this way and that, laughing in that

  ridiculous hooting way of his while shoving Oral back. I

  dumped my load near the ones they’d brought and knew by

  the way they were getting more and more rambunctious, their

  little game was going to end badly. Sure enough, Oral jumped again for the jar, and this time, he knocked it out of Uncle Virgil’s hand. It landed on the ground, and busted. Uncle Virgil changed in a split second, going from laughing to snarling.

  “Sheeyut! Now look it what you done made me do, boy!”

  He walloped Oral on the back of his head. I wouldn’t want

  to be on the receiving end of the look Oral gave him before

  he stalked away, cussing a blue streak. He flopped down under a tree like he would spend the rest of his time sulking. Uncle Virgil kicked at the shards of glass, knocking the pieces from sight under the foliage. He acted no better than Oral, tramp-ing around, and cussing. Finally, he went to the boiler and

  knelt by one of the burners. Daddy had started using oil burners a while back because they heated the stills without putting off smoke like wood fires.

  I backed away as Uncle Virgil brought out a match, and

  flicked the end of his thumb over it. He fiddled around, ad-

  justing the blaze, and I let go a sigh of relief when the flame caught and we weren’t sent to kingdom come.

  Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 80

  8/2/19 3:30 PM

  THE MOONSHINER’S DAUGHTER

  81

  Now we’d take turns stirring until it was the right tem-

  perature when we’d have to put the cap back on and hold it in place with a big rock. This kept the cap from exploding from the buildup of steam. It really wasn’t much different than a big pressure cooker. While Uncle Virgil stirred, I envisioned myself busting the still up. Over and over again I saw myself as I chopped and bashed, watching the mash soak into the ground,

  and me, wild and frenzied as I delivered blow after blow. My mouth filled with saliva like it would when I was standing in front of the refrigerator. I pictured Daddy discovering it, and coming home with the news, perplexed as to who’d found it,

  and had the nerve to defy him and what was his.

  Ever since telling Aubrey, I’d been uneasy. She got to ask-

  ing about it all the time, more than was necessary, in my

  opinion.

  “You done it yet?”

  I shook my head, irritated, and her mouth would go down,

  disappointed in my lack of gumption maybe.

  Her remark was similar to Merritt’s, “You ain’t never gonna

  do it.”

  Like I’d been bluffing, like I was nothing but talk. I didn’t understand why it mattered so much to her.

  “I got to be careful. It takes time. I got to think. And quit asking me about it.”

  She got huffy and stormed off. After that I’d gone to lunch

  alone more than I cared to think about, and the bus rides for the past week were hell. Merritt started back to school and sat with his friend Curt Miller, Abel, or sometimes Oral, while

  I stood in the aisle, ignoring him, ignoring everyone. It was okay because I was preoccupied, obsessing, my mind restless, and I couldn’t concentrate in my classes. I kept rehashing where Daddy would be, where he might want me to go, and I

  had to consider Uncle Virgil and Oral too. Nothing made me

  Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 81

  8/2/19 3:30 PM

  82

  D ON N A E V E R H A RT

  comfortable enough to pull it off. I began to think I was too chicken. I began to think maybe Aubrey was right.

  The stills were all at the fermenting stage; at least six hundred gallons would come from them, meaning Daddy and

  Uncle Virgil would be busy hauling for the next few nights,

  collecting their cash, and, you know, breaking the law. I listened carefully to him saying where they needed to go, and

  recognized I might have the opportunity I’d waited for. Dur-

  ing the runs, the both of them would be gone for hours. I

  had a chance. Next day I went to the shed during the late

  afternoon. The inside was dim; the rays from the setting sun directly behind the building seeped through thin cracks in

  the walls and made jagged yellow lines on the dirt floor. Like a jail cell. Daddy had just taken off in Sally Sue, and I could smell the exhaust when I went in, and got the axe. I hurried down the hill, and shoved the tool under the front seat of the truck. When I straightened up, I saw Merritt at the back door.

  His face was flushed and I froze. What if he’d seen me?

  He said, “Ain’t nothing for supper?”

  Relieved, I said, “I was about to run to the store. What do

  you want?”

  “Chicken.”

  I almost laughed at his choice. Back inside I took down

  the small tin box in the cabinet, and stuffed some money in

  my pocket. The truck was slow to crank, turning over a few

  times, but finally the engine came to life. Once on the road, I drove that old truck hard as I could, as if I was punishing it. It shook and rattled like it was about to fall apart, but held tight in the curves. Finally, I slowed down and began talking, reassuring myself I could do it, that it would be all right.

  “Be quick and don’t think too hard on it, do what you need

  to do, and get it over with. Them other two will be easier

  then. You only need the confidence of a first time. Afterward, Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 82

  8/2/19 3:30 PM

  THE MOONSHINER’S DAUGHTER

  83

  you’ll go into Wilkesboro, pick up what to cook for supper,

  go home, fix it, and maybe even eat a little. Act normal.”

  I fell silent. It had been a while since I’d sat at the table and I’d noticed Daddy had quit teasing me. As I washed the pots, I’d seen him looking at me, hesitating before he picked up his fork, like some measure of blame had maybe shown up. I was

  living on coffee and water alone, but each time I got on the scale, I wasn’t never satisfied. When I looked in the mirror, I was repulsed. If I didn’t do what my mind wanted, I hated

  myself even more.

  I parked in the spot well hidden off Boomer Road, and

  grabbed the axe out from under the front seat. I’d chosen this one because out of the three, it was the easiest to get to. I ran for the cover of trees, then stopped after going only a short distance, feeling weak. I ignored my shakiness, and went

  along the familiar path. There were a few areas off to the sides where the weeds were pressed down, as if someone was going

  one way, and then changed their mind. It could have been

  deer, or maybe a black bear. I went on, my belly knotted up.

  I came to the last turn of the creek, and stopped. I hunkered down, peering through the underbrush, my heart hammering

  in my ears while I inched forward to see the area better.

  When the tiny clearing came into view, I placed my finger-

  tips against my eyelids, and exhaled slowly. I pictured myself doing this and finishing it, all the while knowing revenuers could get you if you were within fifty feet of a still. I opened my eyes, checking once more before I left my hiding spot. I

  edged forward, constantly looking around, and as I got closer, I discerned something was wrong. The boiler had huge holes

  gouged into it, while the thumper box and the oil burners

  were flattened like somebody had run over them. The area

  looked like a tornado had gone
through it. I couldn’t make

  sense of it. Someone had come and, by the looks of it, gone

  Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 83

  8/2/19 3:30 PM

  84

  D ON NA E V E R H A RT

  plumb wild. The condition of the area held me rooted in place for I didn’t know how long. I finally found the courage to

  walk around the damaged still, my shoes squelching through

  Daddy’s precious mash. There was a yeasty, beer smell perme-

  ating the air. Flies and other insects buzzed about, and dotted the ground, intent on consuming what was left. They flew up

  as I moved through, getting in my face, and I swatted them

  away. There was the dread of being caught mixed with initial elation at my discovery. I began to calm down when nobody

  came rushing out from behind a tree.

  I recounted my conversation with Aubrey, could see her

  telling Zeb and Willie what I’d said. But it might be the

  landowners, whoever they were. I didn’t think it was liquor

  agents. No, this was recently done, and they’d have waited

  to catch someone before turning it into a pile of splintered wood. They’d have waited as long as it took. A lone bucket sat at the edge of the woods, and the oddity of it caught my eye.

  It was one of the ones we’d brought for catching the liquor, and it had been left behind, unneeded maybe. It sat upright.

  Beckoning. The axe handle felt slippery in my damp palms,

  but I was glad to have it, ready to go to swinging it if anyone jumped out at me.

  I crept closer. It was something about that bucket. The

  smell, like that of an outhouse, greeted me when I was only a few feet away, because somebody had used it for just that, relieving themselves in it. I backed away, looking around. It was obvious they wanted to send a message. It would be just the

  thing a Murry would do. I cussed Aubrey. I should’ve never

  taken her to these sites; I should’ve never told her. Other than the pieces of wood, and metal parts on the ground, scattered about like the scene of a bad car wreck, there was nothing else to see. It was too quiet, the birds hushed, and only the low hum of the insects continued, like someone was watching and

  waiting to see what I’d do next. My skin was sticky while I

  Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 84

  8/2/19 3:30 PM

  THE MOONSHINER’S DAUGHTER

  85

  shivered like I was cold. I had the urge to leave and quick. It was possible they could come back, or they could be watching me right this very minute.

  A sudden onset of panic made me turn and run. I pushed

  tree branches out of the way, ducked under limbs, and my leg muscles begged me to stop within seconds. I didn’t care about the noise I made and I didn’t slow down until I was back at

  the truck. I snatched the door open, climbed onto the seat,

  and stuck the axe under it. Hands shaking, I turned the key, and heard the sluggish, reluctant turn of the engine. My body reacted; a sharp wave of anxiety flooded in like I’d jumped

  into a cold mountain stream. I swiped my damp hands down

  the front of my shirt, and turned the key back, then forward again. The engine chugged once, a last effort, and then the

  motor clicked. I turned the key to Off and sat there. I smacked my hands on the steering wheel.

  Heat filled the cab as I tried one more time. Clicks. I

  couldn’t believe it. I shoved a hand into my pocket and pulled out a rubber band. I scraped my hair up into a ponytail and

  took the key out of the ignition and got out. I dropped it in my pocket while I stared at the old cantankerous piece of ma-chinery and then I kicked it. I pummeled the hood with my

  fists. I wanted to scream and the swell of it rose in my throat, but I took hold of my anger. It would do me no good. With

  one last whack of my fist on the door, I began walking. I was already hot and sweaty, my temper having gotten the best

  of me.

  I trudged along, my footsteps soft over the layer of fallen

  leaves from the past winter. I arrived at Boomer Road and

  there was nothing except me, the stretch of pebble-filled asphalt, and faded, cracked yellow and white lines. The thought of what I’d discovered, how I was going to explain myself,

  was beyond me at the moment. I started for home, walking

  along the thin shoulder, feeling vulnerable, exposed, as if I’d Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 85

  8/2/19 3:30 PM

  86

  D ON N A E V E R H A RT

  been caught in the very act. I kept vigilant for the sound of an approaching car, scouring the embankment in case I needed

  to hide. What only took about ten minutes in a vehicle was

  going to take more than an hour, even if I hurried. I prayed the road would remain empty and I’d see no one.

  Before too long my feet hurt, and I had the beginnings of

  a blister forming on my right heel. I stopped and adjusted my socks, and went on worrying about the incriminating evidence of the truck and the condition of the still. Daddy had said no need to go check on any of them for a day or so, and it was going to look suspicious from the start, no matter what.

  By the time I was within a quarter mile of the house, the

  sky was pricked with pinpoints of starlight. Another few minutes and I came to the sharp curve. I was so relieved I’d made it, I stopped in the middle of the road and stared toward the heavens, breathing in the cool night air.

  Small squares of yellow lights appeared from the windows

  of the living room and Merritt’s room. That should have been a welcoming view, but instead, I dreaded going inside. I was really limping now, so I took my shoes off. A spot of blood on the back of one sock explained my hobbling gait. I began the climb up the steep drive and the closer I got, the louder and harder came the bumping from within my chest. My mouth,

  already dry from thirst, somehow got drier. The shed revealed the chrome of Sally Sue’s bumper and then the back door was

  yanked open, and Daddy was there.

  He said, “Jessie, that you?”

  I stepped into the dim light shed by the yellow bulb near

  the upper corner of the back door.

  “It’s me.”

  “Where have you been? Where’s the truck?”

  I pointed back down the drive and couldn’t find any words

  for how to begin the charade.

  “Did you get in a wreck?”

  Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 86

  8/2/19 3:30 PM

  THE MOONSHINER’S DAUGHTER

  87

  “No. I was going to go to the store to get something to fix

  for supper.”

  Daddy motioned for me to come in. I unlocked my legs

  somehow, and slowly climbed the back steps. He held the

  door open and I slid by him into the house. Merritt sat at

  the table eating a Smithey Burger from the Goodwill store in Wilkesboro. He chewed and watched us like he did when he

  watched a good TV show.

  Daddy said, “Sit down.”

  I sat.

  “Where is it?”

  I whispered, “Over to Boomer.”

  Daddy said, “What in hell were you doing there? I thought

  you said you were going to the store.”

  I pressed my hands together on my lap, twisting my fingers.

  “I decided I ought to maybe check on it, be more helpful, you know, with Merritt’s arm and all.”

  Merritt made a derogatory noise while Daddy gave me a

  look that matched.

  I must have looked petrified, because his features relaxed

  some, and that helped until he said, “Ain’t none of them stills needed tending at the moment. You knew that.”

  “I got something
to tell you about what I found out there.”

  He frowned, and said, “What?”

  “I went like we usually do, being careful and all, but I could tell something was wrong right away. I’d seen some new leveled areas along the path before I got to it, you know, like where somebody might’ve been looking? There were these

  places that didn’t look right, there in the weeds. I thought maybe bear, or deer. But now I figured that ain’t it because that still? It ain’t no more.”

  Daddy leaned toward me and said, “What the hell you

  mean, it ain’t no more?”

  I said, “Everything has got big holes in it. It couldn’t have Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 87

  8/2/19 3:30 PM

  88

  D ON N A E V E R H A RT

  been too long ago when it happened, because the ground was

  still wet with what had run out. I hurried back to the truck and it wouldn’t start. Battery’s gone dead.”

  Daddy rose from the chair and paced the floor.

  He faced me and said, “What else did you see?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  Daddy rubbed a hand through his hair and down his jaw.

  He went to the phone and called Uncle Virgil. I expected

  he’d do that, only doing so was going to be like mashing

  the gas pedal on Sally Sue and hitting ninety miles an hour

  around a curve. Uncle Virgil would bring his shotgun and

  he’d be ready to, as he put it, “take care a them assholes.”

  Merritt said, “No wonder you look like you seen a ghost.”

  Daddy’s words came fast as he explained what happened to

  Uncle Virgil. I’d never seen him so mad, his face tight and

  angry.

  “It’s got to be one of them damn Murrys.”

  My hope he’d blame a revenuer disintegrated.

  He listened some more; then he said, “Maybe. Jessie was

  the one found it all tore up.”

  He paused, eyebrows raised in my direction, and my insides

  knotted. I mashed on my stomach repeatedly, but the pain

  only got worse.

  He said, “Damned if I know. Something about it ain’t right.

  Get over here. We got a decision to make.”

  I stared at my bloody sock, wishing I’d only gone to the

  store.

  Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 88