“Sorry to interrupt,” Wesley started, brushing dirt from his palms. “But has anyone been out to check on the tent camp lately?”
Pops glanced at Edie, then shook his head. “We’ve been so busy in the last few days, I don’t think anyone has thought of it.”
“Maybe I should run out there, just to make sure everything is okay.”
“That seems like a waste of time, don’t you think?” Edie injected. “Everyone’s here at the house.”
“You want me to go with you, Boy?” The adventure in Pops’ voice was suddenly replaced by a thread of concern.
Wesley shook his head as he rolled down his shirt sleeves. Putting his grandfather is harm’s way was the last thing he needed. “It won’t take that long.”
But the apprehension deepening the lines in the old man’s forehead and around his eyes told Wesley that Pops wasn’t buying it. Wesley clapped a hand over his grandfather’s shoulder, steady but not as strong as it used to be. “We promised Merrilee we’d clean up this yard. We can’t disappoint her.”
Pops studied him for a long moment, before giving him a sharp nod. “Alright, Boy. But don’t dilly dally. I’m going to need some help picking up all these clippings.”
“I won’t,” Wesley answered, squeezing the man’s shoulder lightly before letting go. “If any of you see Maggie, tell her I shouldn’t be long.”
At their affirmative nods, Wesley headed across the yard in the direction he’d seen Jimbo slip into the forest. It didn’t him long to spot the man, scurrying down the dirt-packed trail Maggie had showed him that first day they found the tent camp. A light breeze whistled through the leaves, chilling Wesley with a sense of foreboding.
The steadiness of Jimbo’s gait told Wesley that the man hadn’t been drinking, at least not enough to throw him off balance. To anyone else, it would have looked as though Jimbo was taking a leisurely walk in the woods.
But the sledgehammer gripped in his right hand told Wesley otherwise.
Jimbo veered away from the ridge leading to the tent camp. Pushing aside dead branches, he uncovered a narrow trail that lead further into the woods where Wesley had never been to before. Pine thickets crowded together, blocking the sunlight from filtering down. Briars stuck to his clothing, sometimes plucking the flesh underneath.
Wesley drew in a deep breath, expecting the musty scent of rotting foliage and dead trees, and was surprised by the faint acrid smell of burning logs that grew stronger with each step. Up ahead, Jimbo sunk out of sight, as if the earth had opened up and swallowed the man whole.
Wesley picked up his pace. Where in blazes had the man gone off to? Thorns pulled at his pants legs as he hurried to the place he’d last seen Jimbo. A sharp clang much like the multitude of hammers beating against the metal frame work he heard every day at the Bell rose up beneath him, the repetitive pings a radar with its sights set on Jimbo.
A few seconds later, Wesley stared out over the edge of a deep gorge. The side dropped off sharply, vines and overgrown weeds covering the mounds of dirt he knew laid beneath. The waiting hollow could hold an entire squadron of soldiers, as it had been created it for that purpose. He’d seen this pattern before, in the villages just east of London, but never on American soil.
Dropping down on a rug of pine straw and fallen leaves, Wesley crawled out to the rim of the trench and looked down. Honeysuckle and blackberry vines that were so abundant in this part of the woods had been cut back, reveling a clear patch of land devoid of even a thin carpet of foliage, probably out of fear of fire if the two stoned and blackened rings that stood dead center. Barrels lay scattered around the area while two lidded pots, moss green from the elements, stood over two cold fire rings. A short section of pipe stuck out from the top of the each pot then sharply connected to the bottom of a smaller kettle.
Jimbo swung the sledgehammer against one pot, the dented copper winking like a new penny.
Why would a moonshiner destroy his still?
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The question drew Wesley’s attention back down into the hollow, over the gnarl of twisted coils and broken barrels. Anger flashed through him in a white, hot wave. It wasn’t any mystery who belong to that voice.
James Daniels.
The thud of metal against copper rang out again. Jimbo swung the sledgehammer across his body, grasping the head like a shield in front of him. “I’m not doing your bidding anymore.”
James leaned against a nearby tree and crossed his arms in front of him. “You mean until you need your next drink.”
Jimbo waved an unsteady finger at the contraption of cooper and wood. “You almost killed my wife’s kin with this stuff!”
Maggie was right. Jimbo had been married to Eliza Beth’s sister.
“You’re the one who gave it to that fool girl,” James bit out. “Looks to me like you’re the one with a problem. But then again, problems seem to follow you around like an old coon dog.”
Even from this distance, Wesley could see that James’ words had hit their mark. “You don’t understand.”
“Why?” James’s words echoed, his tone sharp as a knife. “Did Annie understand, Jim?”
“What about you?” Jimbo smacked the head of the sledgehammer against the ground. “Trying to scare off your niece with that note.”
Maggie’s own uncle had threatened her. The idea stunned him. Was this what Maggie dealt with from some in her family and friends? No wonder, she hadn’t told him about that note.
James’ mouth pulled into an ugly smirk. “You see how much good that did. Fool girl still trying to prove she’s as good as a man.”
Wesley grounded his teeth together, his hands clawing into the ground beside him. If he ever found himself alone with James Daniels, he’d thrash the man within an inch of his life.
“Your niece is a good decent woman, James. She’s kind, even to those who don’t deserve it. And she’s a good pilot. You should be proud.”
“Proud!” James bit out. “Our family is a laughingstock throughout the whole county because of that girl.”
Jimbo’s face went blood red. “You’re the one every one’s laughing at, trying to steal your sister’s house right out from under her.”
“Nobody thinks that.” James stepped away from the tree. “I’m an upstanding member of this community and my sister,” He paused, his mouth twisting as if he found the ideal of Merrilee distasteful. “She’s a divorcee who is breaking my papa’s will by running a house of ill repute. Not to mention, this still.”
“I’ll go before the judge as a witness for Merrilee.”
James let out a hard chuckle. “You think anyone’s going to believe you once they learn you let Annie die along with your baby?”
Jimbo let go of the wooden handle, the hammer dropping with a thud to the ground. He crammed his hands into his full pockets.
“It must be hard knowing that if you’d talked the doctor into giving you the right medicine, they might be alive today. But you didn’t, did you?” James paused for a moment. “It’s like you killed them yourself.”
Oh, God! Wesley dropped his head down to rest on the top of his hands, the burden his pilot carried boring down on him like his time in the pressure chamber. Did Jimbo know that there was a storage of medicine everywhere, even on the front? There was nothing he could have done to save his family.
Just like there was nothing I could have done to save Beth.
Wesley buried his face into a bed of leaves, the knot in his chest unfurling slightly. It was true; he couldn’t have saved Beth any more than Jimbo could have saved his wife and baby. His kid sister had made her own decisions, stubbornly independent choices that were completely out of his control. But then again if she hadn’t have made up her own mind, taking the path she had chosen, she wouldn’t have been the Beth he knew and loved. And he wouldn’t have done anything to change the person she had become. Wesley closed his eyes.
I’m such an idiot, Lord.
&nbs
p; Something broke loose inside him, leaving in its place a freedom he hadn’t felt since before the war. He drew in a deep breath, the crisp fresh scent of leaves filling his lungs. He lifted his head, glancing about as if he were a blind man seeing the world for the first time. When he got back to the house, he’s find Maggie, tell her what he had discovered. Prove to her he could be the man to encourage those God given dreams of hers.
Tell her how much he loved her.
A shout went up behind him and he lifted his head. Jimbo had drop the sledgehammer at the base of a barrel dangling over the cold fire pit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the contents, a long circular stick.
“Where did you get that TNT?”
“Where do you think, James?” Jimbo pulled out what Wesley figured to be a matchbook. “You’re the one who stole it from the plant site when we blasted out the foundation.”
“Come on, Jimbo. We’re old friends. Surely, we can work this problem out” James appealed, but he was already backtracking toward the woods. “Maybe make a deal?”
“I’m tired of your dealings.” A slight scratch preceded a bright flame. “I’m getting rid of this poison before you hurt anyone else!”
The scratch of the match, the sizzle of the fuse being lit made Wesley push himself up. He had barely gotten his feet under him when the earth lurched beneath him, flinging him on his back. An eerie rumble grew louder. He flipped over on his stomach and threw his arms over his head as a rush of heat scorched over him.
Give me the chance to make things right with Maggie, Lord.
The world exploded around him.
23
“I’m going on inside,” Merrilee said to Maggie and her father as she opened the truck door. The hinges squealed in protest as she slammed it shut. She leaned into the window, a smile playing at her lips. “Dinner isn’t going to cook itself.”
Maggie watched her aunt walk up the path, the crush of gravel beneath Merrilee’s high heels growing more distant with each of her steps. She turned back to her dad. “She’s in a good mood.”
“She should be.” The smile her dad gave her reach all the way to his eyes. “We found out James has been wasting his time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Dad didn’t own the house when he put it in his will. John Davenport bought it from him a few years ago, and put it in Merrilee’s name.”
Maggie couldn’t help but smile. “You’re teasing me, right?”
Her father shook his head. “Nope. Your aunt is the rightful owner of the family homestead.”
Maggie leaned her head back against the headrest and burst into laughter. “I would love to be a fly on the wall when Uncle James finds out.”
Her dad’s chuckle was warm and homey. “Me too, Magpie.”
Maggie turned her head to look at him. Her parents were such a blessing to her. “Daddy?”
“Yes, baby girl?”
She swallowed. Apologizing wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. “I’m sorry I was so rude to you about the whole dare thing. I only did it because Charles was so ugly about me being a pilot.”
Her dad stretched his arm across the back of the bench seat and pulled her close. “I know. You do that kind of stuff when your cousins back you in a corner. You think it’s the only way you’ll ever get their respect.”
Maggie buried her face in his chest. “I do, don’t I?”
“Always scares me and your mother to death.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her father’s scent of peppermint and perspiration calming her jangled soul. “I never mean to worry you.”
“We’ll always worry about you, sweetheart.” He hugged her close. “It’s one of the things that keeps us on our knees before the Lord.”
Maggie tilted her head back and smiled. “I’ll bet.”
Her dad returned her smile. “Are we okay now?”
Before she could answer, a low-pitched burst of sound rumbled around them. The trunk rocked from side to side, its hinges and springs rattling as if the earth beneath it had shifted.
“What was that?” Pushing her away, her father reached for the door handle.
Maggie scooted across the seat and glanced out of the passenger side window. A white plume of smoke rose above the trees behind her aunt’s house. The ghostly silence that followed the explosion was suddenly broken by distant shouts.
“Call the fire department.” Over the hood of the trunk, she saw her father break into a run toward the back yard.
Maggie popped open the door and ran up the front walkway. The sickening sweet smell of alcohol faintly hung in the air and the thought hit her with the force of a bomb. A moonshine still had gone up, and nearby. She took the stairs two at a time.
Merrilee met her at the door, her face white as the paint on the walls. “I can’t find Claire anywhere.”
Alarm knotted in Maggie’s chest. “She’s probably with Edie.”
“I can’t find her either.”
“Then they’re probably together.” Maggie breathed a little easier. “Have you checked the attic? She likes to play up there sometimes.”
“I’ll go look.” Merrilee twisted toward the stairs.
“And call the fire department.” Not waiting for her aunt’s reply, Maggie bounded down the front steps and across the front yard.
Eliza Beth stood at corner, her arms wrapped around the porch’s support post as if holding on for dear life. The girl turned, her eyes frantic with worry, her face drained of all color. “You don’t think that was our camp, do you?”
Maggie shook her head, still walking. A murky cloud had settled into the treetops. “No. The smoke didn’t coming from that direction.”
“Then what . . .”
Claire, her braids flying, her young face devoid of all color, came running around the corner of the house. Tears rained down her cheeks like a sudden cloudburst. When she saw Maggie, she buried her face in the front of Maggie’s shirt.
Maggie wrapped her arms around her tiny cousin and held on for dear life. She brushed a kiss against the top of Claire’s head, inhaling the essence of soap and little girl. “Are you okay?”
The child didn’t answer, but simply nodded, her face pressed against Maggie’s midsection.
“What happened, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know. Pops was telling Edie and me a story when it happened.” Claire tilted her head back to look at her. “It sounded just like when Mr. Stevens dug up that old cannon ball with his back hoe.”
Maggie squatted down in front of her cousin. “What direction did the noise come from?”
Tears suddenly appeared in the corner of Claire’s eyes and she bit her lip. Her little body shook like a bowl of Merrilee’s apple jelly. “Oh, Maggie.”
“What is it, baby?”
“It’s Pops.” Her voice broke. “He’s sick.”
A ribbon of fear coiled through Maggie. Wesley had mentioned something about Pops’ heart. The shock of the explosion must have startled him. Maggie glanced at Eliza Beth. “Could you take Claire Bear to her momma? She’s worried sick.”
Eliza Beth released her grip on the post. “Sure.”
“And call an ambulance. Pops needs to go to the hospital.” Turning back to her cousin, she pressed her hand against Claire’s soft cheek. “I need you to be a brave girl, okay?”
Her blue eyes searched Maggie’s face. “Is Pops going to be okay?”
A lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed. “I don’t know, but we’re going to do everything we can to help him. Now, you go with Eliza Beth here, okay?”
Claire nodded, slipping her hand into the young woman’s. “Okay.”
Maggie gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Claire Bear.”
“Love you too, Maggie.” Eliza Beth tugged the girl gently toward the front of the house.
Turning toward the backyard, Maggie drew in a deep breath, the air inebriated with the overwhelming smell of spirits. A dense fog covered the backyard
in a shroud, covering secrets hidden well within the forest.
“Over here, Magpie!”
In the mist, Maggie made out shadows of three figures in the doorway of the kitchen and ran toward them. Her daddy stared up at her, Edie curled against her side, sobbing. Bunched against the door, Pops lay stretched out, his eyes closed, his hand fisted into the front of his shirt.
Fear gripped her by the throat. Maggie stared at her dad as she knelt. “I told Eliza Beth to call an ambulance.”
“Probably a good idea, my girl.”
“Pops.” She covered his hand with hers, disturbed by his cold touch. “What are you doing laid out like this? Taking a little rest?”
“Let worry get the best of me.” His lips quirked into a soft smile, then grimaced. “I knew I shouldn’t have let him go out there alone.”
Anxiety skittered up Maggie’s spine before settling in her stomach. Someone was into the woods? She exchanged looks with her father and Edie. “Who is he talking about?”
“Wesley.” Edie scrubbed her hand across her cheek to capture a new round of tears.
Maggie couldn’t breathe. Didn’t know if she’d ever draw another breath again, not with this pain centered in the middle of her chest. The cold concrete met her as she stumbled backward. “Are you sure?”
Warm hands covered her shoulders and she glanced up to see her father. “He thought someone should check up on the tent camp.”
Why would he do that when everyone from the camp was here? Maggie sat back, wrapping her arms around her legs, cradling her knees to her chest. The answer smacked her in the face.
Jimbo.
Wesley must have seen Jimbo slip into the woods and gone after him. And now Wesley was out there, possibly hurt, possibly. . .
A strangled cry escaped from deep in her gut. She scrambled to her feet. “I’m going after him.”
A hand at her forearm made Maggie twist around. her father held her arm tight. “No, you can’t go out there. You’ll get lost.”
Maggie shook her head franticly, looking out over the smoke-filled trees. The haze had lifted slightly, to the point where she could make out the path again. “Daddy, I know those woods like the back of my hand. You know that.”
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