The Moonshiner's Daughter (ARC)

by Donna Everhart

  mill set up in an old barn. There were several trucks there, the repetition of driving in and out creating a barren circular area in front of the building. I parked and went inside a small side door beside the big sliding front ones. Inside it smelled exactly like you’d expect, the rich scent of grains, sawdust, and something like wet burlap. I spoke to a man missing a few teeth

  about needing some bags of corn and barley, and he took off

  to get what I needed and loaded it into the back of the truck.

  As I handed him some money, he said, “Got to feed them

  cows and hogs good, ain’t it right.”

  I said, “That’s right.”

  Daddy had said it was what he’d always told them he used

  the corn for, though they might’ve known better. Still, it was easier than buying several hundred pounds of sugar from a

  store. That would definitely draw suspicion.

  The transaction went so easy, by the time I got back to Big

  Warrior, my disposition had improved. Mrs. Brewer watched

  and nodded her head as we got the mash ready, testing the

  water temperature. Merritt turned off the heat when it was

  ready, and then we added in the corn. This was the part where I used to get bored when I’d been at a still on my own. We

  had to stir the mixture, until the temperature dropped; then we’d add in the barley. Then we had to keep stirring now and then until we could add in the yeast. It wasn’t boring with

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  Mrs. Brewer. She kept us entertained with stories and told us one about how she’d been a young girl and saw her uncle get

  caught by a revenuer while hiding under his house.

  Merritt asked, “How’d they know where to find him?”

  “He run into the yard, and crawled underneath the house,

  and was layin’ there in the dirt beside his old hound dog. I had watched him do all of that, and thought it was a mite

  curious. Mama and Aunt Cornelia, Mama’s sister, they was

  inside cooking. Well, you know, I was a young’un, and curi-

  ous. Right when I got down on my hands and knees to study

  on him underneath there, the revenuers showed up. They was

  strangers, so I didn’t talk to them.

  “I hollered, ‘Hey, Uncle Hobart, ain’t you gonna come out

  here and talk to these men?’

  “He tried to wave me off, but one of’em stooped down too,

  saw him, and that was that. Uncle Hobart always said when

  he got out he was going to tan my hide. I remember telling

  Mama I hoped they’d keep him a long time, which earned me

  a whipping anyway. ’Course, he got out, and did nothing of

  the sort, and by then I was making shine, and doing what he’d been put in the penitentiary for.”

  In the late afternoon, we were done and we put the cap on.

  As we left, I said, “If the weather goes on like it is, shouldn’t take long to get the first run.”

  Mrs. Brewer nodded. “It ought to be ready afore Labor

  Day.”

  I said, “That means I can deliver some before school starts.”

  Merritt was bringing up the rear and he said, “Never in my

  entire life did I ever think I’d hear that.”

  I thought about it, then said, “Me neither.”

  The next day Merritt took the truck and went back to Big

  Warrior to check on it. Once he was gone, I tried to tamp my nerves down about going to see Daddy. Mrs. Brewer had offered to go too, but I wanted to do it alone.

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  She said, “Well then, I’ll go on to my house, see about Pop-

  eye, and my mail. Call me when you get back; let me know

  how it went.”

  After she was gone, I went to my room and stared at the

  words we’d not painted over

  Mrs. Brewer had said we should, and I’d said, “No. Leave

  it like it is.”

  Merritt shook his head like he thought that was just plain

  crazy.

  I said, “It’s a good reminder, don’t you think?”

  In my opinion, there was nothing more motivating than

  the messages those Murrys left.

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  Chapter 27

  At the jail, I was led to the same room and told to wait. I’d never been inside any place I could remember where sound

  echoed so much. The shouts, whistles, doors slamming, keys

  rattling, chairs scraping, hands smacking walls, loud voices talking, reached a level where I only wanted to leave, get

  back to Shine Mountain where the loudest thing might be a

  creek, leaves rustling, and birds calling. I didn’t know how Daddy managed in here, but I figured I was about to find out.

  I waited, and as the minutes went by I went from sitting to

  standing, to peeking out the small window on the door. After about twenty minutes, the guard who’d led me into this room

  came in.

  He said, “You’re the only one who came?”

  I nodded.

  He said, “Well, you best be on your way then.”

  I said, “What? Why?”

  “He asked who came, and when I said, ‘Looks like your

  daughter,’ he said he wasn’t up to seeing anybody.”

  Stunned, I said, “He won’t see me?”

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  He said, “It happens. Adjustments and all.”

  I gripped the keys in my clammy hand. Even while I had

  the bad news about the journal, I’d planned to tell him what we’d done at Big Warrior. What I’d decided I ought to do.

  I’d come to tell him I was learning, and that I was wanting to be different, not salt in a wound, not contentious, a solid part of the family, doing what Sassers had done for decades. There was a little guilt mixed in it, but now it seemed I was too late.

  I said, “Can I pass along a message to him?”

  He said, “Sure, but I can’t guarantee he’ll read it.”

  He gave me a small piece of paper, and I jotted down:

  “Please call. I need to talk to you before you leave.” I hesitated at my signature. Should I put: “Your daughter”? Should I put:

  “Love”? I ended up simply signing it: “Jessie.”

  He barely gave it a glance before he said, “Okay. Sorry

  ’bout that, kid.”

  Kid. How old did I look?

  Once outside, I stared at my reflection in the windows of

  the building as I walked by, and caught a glimpse of a girl

  with flyaway hair, and bad-fitting clothes. I looked like I was about twelve, but mostly like I didn’t belong anywhere, a mis-fit in my own right, no different maybe than nutty Darlene

  Wilson. I drove home, the turns here and there mechanical,

  and when I pulled behind the house, I didn’t know how I

  got here. I sat in the front seat for a minute, deciding what I needed to do next. Merritt was still gone, and Mrs. Brewer

  had said she would come back later on tonight.

  I had the house to myself, an unexpected moment of op-

  portunity. Inside, I opened the refrigerator. I went back to all the times I’d done this and what it had gained me. Nothing.

  I’d never felt good during, and I surely hadn’t felt good after.

  I shut the door, and went outside, tried not to think about my stomach, the internal upheaval, my gut
as disturbed as what

  was taking place around me. I wanted reconciliation with

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  Daddy and Merritt, and I wanted to be free of the Murrys. To not have their name never mentioned in relation to us in any way. I walked up the hill to Sally Sue. I got in and stared at Mama’s picture long and hard. I wanted her kind of happiness worse than anything.

  I didn’t say a word to Merritt about Daddy declining to

  see me. We were at Big Warrior when Merritt asked how he

  was doing, I was vague, lied a little, and said he was mostly worried about being sent out of state. I stewed over the idea the news might make Merritt go back to being how he’d

  been when he’d discovered the hook wasn’t up to his idea of

  a new arm.

  He said, “All the more reason to keep going. For him. I

  want to see him before he has to leave, though.”

  All I could do was nod.

  We were hunkered down by the spout Daddy always called

  the “money piece” and watched liquor dripping into a jar.

  Every now and then I could tell Merritt watched me, but I

  only paid attention to what came out. These first drippings

  seemed pure as water, but were toxic. This was called the

  foreshots, and couldn’t be used. It was poisonous. It made me think of the Murrys and how no one, not anyone’s family

  member, had ever come back on them when it was known

  their liquor was bad and had most likely dispatched a loved

  one off to heaven before their time. I figured it was because everyone knew how they were, how it wouldn’t be good to

  tangle with them, which made me all the more uneasy about

  what I was about to do. It was as if I was deliberately stepping into their path, my fists raised, ready to throw the first punch. We could quit, let the Murrys have it all, but I couldn’t see myself letting that happen any more than I could’ve seen myself running liquor down this mountain a few months ago.

  I said, “Mrs. Brewer said she knows some who’ll want to

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  buy. I might be able to sell some in town too, at that spot

  where Daddy went.”

  Merritt nodded, then said, “I’m going too.”

  I weighed this in my mind, thinking about how it might

  seem with Merritt and me riding together in Sally Sue. It

  might appear suspicious, but riding around and even driving

  Sally Sue had always made me feel like that anyway. Every-

  one knew Daddy was in jail, and to be sure his young’uns

  wouldn’t be up to no good after he’d set such a bad example.

  I said, “Okay.”

  To that, he acted surprised.

  I said, “We’re gonna have to switch off and take turns until this is done.”

  He nodded and said, “I’ll stay first.”

  “Maybe we should both stay. In case someone comes.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Since it’s our first liquor batch and all.”

  “Don’t go and try to make it special.”

  “It is though, ain’t it?”

  “It’s just a regular thing, what we’re supposed to be doing.

  What our family’s done all along.”

  “I know that, Merritt.”

  “You ain’t ever acted like you knew it. What’s changed?”

  He was starting to irk me, but I gave him the best answer

  I could.

  “Me.”

  He didn’t say a word. We sat around watching the liquor

  trickle out with an easy quiet that felt like a truce had been declared.

  After a while, I said, “When we get home, I’m gonna go

  call Mrs. Brewer, tell her to come stay at the house, if she’s inclined.”

  He said, “Yeah, okay.”

  * * *

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  A few days later, she sat at the supper table with us, sipping from a jar we’d taken out of Big Warrior, and said, “Now

  that’s mighty fine. Y’all done real good.”

  It was the Saturday before school, and after we ate, Merritt and I climbed in Sally Sue. She was loaded down with jars and jugs under the special back seat.

  Mrs. Brewer said, “I took a few of them jars and added in

  some apple slices and a little honey. Folks seem to like that.”

  I said, “Long as it’ll sell, I don’t care.”

  She leaned down, rested her forearms on my opened win-

  dow, and studied us with an intensity I’d only seen when she was upset about my eating.

  She said, “Y’all know where yer going?”

  I nodded. “Yes’m. We’ll try Tenth Street first because

  there’s a place Daddy always went on Saturdays.”

  She said, “Be careful. Keep yer eyes open on the road.”

  “Yes’m.”

  She straightened up and we pulled away with Merritt grin-

  ning ear to ear. The wind blew the hair off his forehead, and he even had his hook arm resting on the edge of the door,

  no longer trying to hide it. The sun was bright and we were

  heading down Shine Mountain with Sally Sue loaded up. It

  was a good day. I wondered what Daddy would think if he

  could see us. We got to Wilkesboro and drove through to

  North Wilkesboro, and as I went toward 10th Street it didn’t escape me the looks we were getting.

  Merritt said, “They’re staring at us like we’re from outer

  space or something.”

  “Who cares, I’m used to it.”

  I could imagine what they said, what they thought: That’s them Sasser kids. You heard about what happened to their old man, didn’t you? Ain’t it shameful? What you reckon they’re doing?

  We poked along, going about ten miles an hour, being po-

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  atmosphere like a festival, almost. People went in and out of various stores, while some men stood around in sweat-stained coveralls talking, dusty hats shoved to the back of their sunburned heads, their booted feet propped on bumpers. They

  each enjoyed a chaw of tobacco and would occasionally spit. I puttered over to the alley where Daddy had done pretty good, and parked. We were underage, so we couldn’t walk into

  some of the places he’d supply. There was a beer joint, pool hall, and a woman who had on so much makeup, I was sure

  she might be one of them women Uncle Virgil and Daddy

  had joked about being “a lady of the night.”

  I said, “We’ll wait till we see someone getting ready to go

  in, and see if they can pass along a message.”

  He nodded, and we both watched the crowd.

  Merritt suddenly pointed and said, “Hey! Daddy has sold to

  him. I remember him.”

  It was Mr. Denton, who owned a pool hall, and Merritt

  gave him a little wave. Mr. Denton was on the heavy side, not fat, but solid, and as he came toward us, it was like watching a bulldozer with the blade lowered and clearing a path.

  He came up to Merritt’s window and said, “Why, if it ain’t

  the Sasser brood. What’cha’ll doing here today, got some

  shopping to tend to?”

  Merritt said, “You could put it that way.”

  I said, “Yeah.”

&nbs
p; Then there was silence. We weren’t real good at the con-

  versating part leading into what we were really shopping

  for—customers.

  Mr. Denton rubbed at his neck, stared up at the sky, then

  said, “Listen. Damn shame is what it is, what happened to

  your daddy. If there’s anything I can do, you let me know.”

  I said, “There might could be something.”

  Merritt said, “If you’re thirsty, that is.”

  Mr. Denton’s expression went from unsure to attentive.

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  Mr. Denton said, “I’ll be danged if I ain’t about parched.

  Come right on around to the back.”

  I said, “We’ll see you there.”

  I pulled out and turned right at the next corner. Mr. Den-

  ton waited in a graveled area and pointed to a spot where we could park. A scratched and beat-up wooden door painted

  dark blue hung crooked off the back of the building. There

  were aged brick steps leading inside, and an old loading dock off to the left. It looked like an old warehouse. He held up a finger for us to wait, and disappeared inside. I turned the car off and we sat barely moving, both of us too nervous to talk.

  After a minute or so, I was clenching my fingers around the

  steering wheel and Merritt got to spinning his hook, round

  and round.

  I finally said, “Hope he ain’t setting us up, Merritt.”

  He said, “Maybe we ought to get out of here. We get caught

  with all this hooch, they’re liable to stick us in a detention center or something.”

  I started the car, about to put it in Reverse, when Mr.

  Denton came back out with another man I didn’t recognize,

  someone younger, maybe in his early twenties or so, his skin scarred by acne. He was dressed well, carried himself like he was busy, busy, busy, with a quick pace, and lots of hand gesturing. This was it. He’d done informed on us.

  Merritt said, “Go!”

  I said, “I ain’t running now. It’s too late. Mr. Denton’s done told him all he needs to know.”

  They came down the back steps, heads together, conspiring

  against us, maybe hoping to turn us in and keep some anyway.

  Mr. Denton said, “This here’s Mr. Lewis. He’s a mite

  thirsty too.”

  I sat with the engine still running, trying to decide if it was a trap. Mr. Lewis took in how the both of us appeared like