The Moonshiner's Daughter (ARC)
Page 31
we’d been working in the sun all day. He didn’t move, and I
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got to thinking he probably needed to see the evidence before he could arrest us. I was stuck in place and couldn’t move if I tried. Merritt’s hook clicked repeatedly.
Mr. Lewis turned to Mr. Denton and said, “It ain’t nothing
but two young’uns.”
Insulted, I said, “I reckon I’m old enough.”
“You don’t appear to be.”
“Well. I am. You wanting any or not.”
“I want a sample first.”
“Fine by me.”
I got out, and so did Merritt.
Mr. Denton said, “Let’s go inside right there,” while Mr.
Lewis stared at Merritt’s prosthesis. I got a jar out from the back and we went inside where it was cooler, and dimly lit.
In a small circle, we waited while Mr. Denton unscrewed the
cap and sniffed. He sipped, and rolled it around in his mouth and swallowed.
He passed the jar to Mr. Lewis and said, “I’ll hold my opin-
ion till you have a sip.”
Mr. Lewis sniffed too, then had a little taste. He gave Mr.
Denton a look I couldn’t discern. He sipped again, put the lid back on real slow, and handed the jar to Mr. Denton.
Mr. Denton said, “Well? What’choo think, Glen?”
Mr. Lewis said, “Who’d you get that last run from?”
Mr. Denton studied us, then said, “Murrys. Near about
threatened me if I didn’t take some.”
The mention of their name sent a chill down my backbone
and Mr. Lewis rubbed at his cheeks, creating a rasping noise.
He said, “You still got some of it?”
Mr. Denton said, “Yeah, folks is drinking it, but complain-
ing. Hang on.”
While he was fetching it, Mr. Lewis said, “Corn, not
sugar?”
I nodded, and said, “Yes, sir.”
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He nodded and said, “The good old kind.”
Mr. Denton came back with another jar. It was grimy like
it hadn’t been washed, while our jars sparkled, and the shine in them did too. He opened it and sniffed and pulled his head back sharply before he handed it to Mr. Lewis, who lowered
his head and sniffed, and made a face. I held my hand out, and he gave it to me. I knew right away what was wrong. I handed it off to Merritt so he could get a whiff of the Murry poison.
I said, “We only use the heart. No foreshots, heads, or tails.
That there’s been proofed with all three probably and anyone who drinks that is gonna be sick with a popskull headache or worse. I can smell the acetone. We proof with water.”
Mr. Denton said, “I ain’t ever buying from them again.”
Mr. Lewis said, “Their shit ain’t never been any good.”
I said, “Anyone lives to tell about drinking that is lucky.”
Mr. Lewis said, “I want some of what they got.”
Merritt said, “Ain’t nobody never took sick drinking ours,
not unless you just drank too much.”
I said, “We got about a hundred gallons of what you just
tasted. I’ll cut you a deal, sell it a dollar cheaper a gallon than what they charged you.”
Mr. Denton’s smile went as wide as it could get. “That’s a
mighty fine proposition.”
He stuck his hand out, and I shook it. He shook with Mer-
ritt too, after an awkward right, left, right fumble. Mr. Denton bought half of what we had, and Mr. Lewis bought the
rest. When we were done unloading they handed us a total of
two hundred dollars in cash. I’d seen more money than this
piled up on our kitchen table when Daddy was home, but I’d
never understood how it felt to see something through to the end, and then to be rewarded. I’d never been proud of anything I’d ever done until this moment.
I smiled at both men and said, “Thankee. I thankee kindly.”
We promised we’d make a delivery once a week, same as
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how Daddy had handled it. Mr. Lewis happened to be scout-
ing out for potential customers in New York too. He had relatives who conducted matters similar to the way we operated
down here.
He said, “Hope you can keep up with the demand.”
Merritt said, “Sure.”
I said, “No problem.”
We walked back out into the sun and sat in the car.
He said, “We might need us some more stills.”
I said, “Yeah, and if we sell cheaper we could put certain
folks out of commission.”
Merritt nodded and grinned.
He said, “I can’t wait till I call Daddy.”
There was so much to tell him, so much we needed him
for. I wasn’t bothered about fending for ourselves; it was
mostly about the Murrys. It troubled me how we’d manage
them, but despite that, it might have been a hint of happiness I felt right then, and even the problem of the Murrys couldn’t overshadow it.
I said, “I want to go buy some school clothes, some new
shoes.”
Merritt said, “It’s about time.”
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Chapter 28
After tugging on a new skirt, and buttoning up a new blouse, I thought of facing my classmates. Having something new to
wear might make a difference in how I looked outwardly to
others, but really, I was no different than the same old house only with a new coat of paint.
The lady helping me said, “You ain’t big as a minute.”
It was the exact same thing Mrs. Brewer had said about
Mama, but I couldn’t get by the vision I’d held of myself for long as I could remember. I stood in front of the mirror, attempting not to judge, not to see what I always saw, the plain, fat, and dumpy girl with sad eyes. I tried hard, but it didn’t work, because I still didn’t care for what was reflected back.
The saleslady came by the changing room a couple times
and said, “You all right in there, honey?”
“Yes’m.”
I studied the way the clothes fit, struggling to decide what was real and what was only in my head, maybe an illusion,
maybe the truth. I saw a big girl, one that defied the “you ain’t Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 281
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big as a minute” comments. The new clothes made a differ-
ence in how I presented myself, if nothing else.
I came out of the little changing room and told the saleslady,
“Can I get me some dungarees, maybe a couple more blouses,
and another skirt, and a dress?”
“Why, sure, honey.”
She left to get what I wanted and Merritt drifted over from
the other side of the store after buying what he wanted.
He said, “You don’t look the same.”
I stared down at myself, and said, “I don’t?”
I went back into the dressing room and came out wear-
ing what I’d had on, the too-soft, threadbare skirt, yellowed blouse, and scuffed shoes. With the old clothes, the other me came back and inhabited my body, the uncomfortable, heavy,
and stick-to-the-shadows me. The saleslady came back with
the other items.
She said, “You want to try these on?”
I shook my head. I was done with shopping, decided I
really didn’t like it, but was glad to have gone through with it. We went up front to pay. After we left the store, everything wrapped in tissue paper and placed carefully in big bags, we went to the Goodwill store and got a couple Smithey Burgers
to eat on the way home. I ate one, and before I could think
twice I told Merritt to please eat whatever was left.
Monday morning came and a case of the nerves hit. I stood
over the toilet, the temptation to drop to my knees like giant hands pushing on my shoulders. I turned away, knowing if I
relented I’d never get past this curious behavior, never figure out how to stop. I ought to be proud is what I told myself.
We’d sold our first batch of shine, made enough money to buy ourselves some school clothes, get groceries, and had money
for bills. I had even washed my hair the night before and tried rolling it. I took the rollers out this morning and brushed
through the light brown loops hanging near my collarbone,
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hoping a bunch of it wouldn’t come out. Of course some did,
so I tied it back in a loose ponytail, and went into the kitchen.
Merritt came in a minute later, walking stiff-legged in his
new dungarees, cuffed at the bottom, and wearing a white-
and-blue plaid shirt. He’d used Daddy’s hair tonic, and that familiar odor, fresh and sweet, brought him straight from the jailhouse and into the kitchen with us. We sat at the table
while Mrs. Brewer, who’d shown up on our doorstep at the
crack of dawn waving around a bag filled with links of sau-
sage and eggs, set three full plates on the table.
She sat down, and said, “Now, don’t y’all look nice.”
Merritt’s face had gone the color of putty, him worried
about everyone seeing his prosthesis for the first time.
Mrs. Brewer said, “Maybe I ought to be ashamed of my-
self, but I’m glad I’m not going back. I got my pension, Social Security, and that special little something on the side. I don’t need to do it; I was just doing it to keep from being lonesome.”
She gave me the odd little smile that really wasn’t.
Without any real thought, I said, “Why don’t you come
stay here for a bit? Bring Popeye.”
She hesitated, her fork in the air as she thought about it.
She said, “I reckon I might could do that.” And without
hesitation, she said, “I’ll bring my shotgun too, you know,
just in case.”
Knowing she’d be there when we got home eased my
mind, but once we got to school that sense of well-being disappeared. Aubrey’s brother, Zeb, followed close behind Wil-
lie and his voice carried clear across the school lot.
Zeb was yelling, “Hey, Willie, where you been?”
Willie ignored him, coming straight for us, and when he
was close enough, he slowed down and fell into step beside me.
He said, “Sure is some interesting reading I’ve been doing.
Hey, how does your old man like his new accommodations?”
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We picked up the pace, and I said to Merritt, “Don’t stop.
Don’t say nothing.”
Willie stayed on our heels while Zeb wasn’t far behind.
Willie said, “Hey, cripple. Bet you can’t even wipe your
own ass. Does she help? Hey, Hook Boy, she wiping your ass
for you?”
Zeb laughed too loud, and too long. “Ha-ha! Tell’em, Wil-
lie! That’s right; hey, cripple, does she help?”
Willie spun around and used his finger on Zeb’s chest like
a bird pecks for seed.
He said, “Shut up, dumb ass. And tell that nitwit sister of
yours to stop calling me all hours of the night.”
Zeb’s laughter sputtered, while Merritt’s face darkened
with a combustible combination of anger and embarrassment.
Heads down, we aimed for the doors. I was angry too, but
couldn’t think what to say to shut Willie up. A swarm of students unloaded from the buses and Cora McCaskill stepped
off our old one. Willie called out and almost ran to her side.
His expression molded into the same smitten look in the pa-
per a few weeks back, and she blushed from the roots of her
hair down her neck. Aubrey came zipping out of one of the
doors at the front of the school like she’d been watching. She came to a standstill when she saw him take Cora’s hand.
I said to Merritt, “Perfect, come on,” and without waiting
to see if he followed, I began closing the distance to Willie and Cora.
Merritt mumbled, “What’re you doing?”
I didn’t answer and fell in behind them doing my best to
listen to what Willie had to say to Cora while watching Au-
brey’s reaction to the hand-holding. She was fit to be tied, eyebrows cinched together, mouth turned down. She had
on red lipstick, a brilliant crimson slash like a bleeding cut against pale skin. She must’ve snuck a tube to school and put it on after she’d gotten here.
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Willie was saying, “Cora, you sure are looking right pretty
this morning.”
Cora had her head down, and Willie sniffed at her neck.
She giggled.
He said, “Boy, you sure smell good too.”
She said, “Stop it now. You know I don’t like it when you
do that, least not in public, William.”
William was stumbling over his own two feet as he fawned over her. He continued to adjust, to adapt and conform to her sense of social decorum, doing as she wanted, a different person entirely. Aubrey never stood a chance of having that kind of hold. Willie held the door open as Cora sashayed through; then he grabbed her hand again. She extricated herself from
his grip to go into a classroom. Once she was gone, he rolled his head on his neck like he was loosening up tense muscles.
She’d made him nervous. I couldn’t imagine anything or any-
one making him that way, but evidently Cora McCaskill did.
He had a weak spot, and it was her.
Merritt said, “Danged if he ain’t gone head over heels.”
We parted ways, and he maneuvered the hallways sticking
close to the walls like I would, the hook held tight against his body, shielded with his left arm. He avoided the lines of students moving like cars on a road, half going one direction and others going the opposite. I saw Curt Miller and Abel Massey, the way they whispered to one another, their eyes on him. I
was getting the idea it was going to be a tough year for him.
Behind me came a voice I recognized as easy as my own.
“Hey, Jessie,” Aubrey said.
She chomped on a piece of gum, eyes darting about.
I said, “Hey.”
She said, “You look different.”
Merritt had said the same thing, but I had no comment for
her since I didn’t know what she meant, a compliment or not.
She said, “How was your summer?”
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&
nbsp; The entire town knew what happened to Daddy, yet here
was Aubrey asking as if nothing had happened.
“That’s kind of a dumb question.”
“Oh. I guess you’re still mad.”
I wasn’t really mad; it was more about knowing I couldn’t
be friends with her, not when she couldn’t see how she’d been a part of what happened. I no longer trusted her, felt like she’d used me to try and win points with Willie. Like now, using
me as her excuse to keep Willie within her sights. He leaned against the lockers near Cora’s classroom, talking to another boy I didn’t know.
She said, “Are those new clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Nice,” she said, and when she noticed Willie about to
move on to his class she rushed away with a, “See ya,” over
her shoulder.
Next came a desperate wail out of her. “Will-ie! Waaaaitttt
uuuup!”
He didn’t stop, already long gone so to speak, yet she re-
fused to accept it. She snatched hold of his hand and he pulled it out of her grip.
I went to my first class, where Darlene Wilson sat a couple
of seats away. She stared in my direction, sometimes nod-
ding her head like she knew a secret. She truly was strange, so I reckoned I wasn’t leading the way in that category. My
other classmates poured into the room, some a bit taller, some with new haircuts, and new clothes, yet something was different this year. It wasn’t them; it was me. I was no longer concerned about the hubbub that came with being a part of
something, like the Fall Festival already being discussed. The chatter about who should join various clubs, and activities.
The talk of a great football season, and who might be Home-
coming Queen. I was focused on how to keep the Murrys
from causing us more trouble, and keeping the one still going.
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We had to get more liquor made, and down to Mr. Denton
and Mr. Lewis.
I gave a sly peep around the room, wondering what they
would think if they knew I hauled moonshine, knew how to
do a bootleg U-turn, could tell by the bead what was good
liquor and bad.
Word got around quick Sasser shine was still available. Most folks thought after Daddy went to the penitentiary that was it, there would be no more till he got out. When it was discovered that wasn’t so, Merritt, and I were busier than ever. Mr.