Moonshiner's Son

by Carolyn Reeder

  To Tom’s surprise, the store was deserted when he arrived at the settlement after school. “An’ what can I do for you today, young feller?” Ol’ Man Barnes asked, looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

  “I have a message from Pa,” Tom said, closing his eyes and reciting, “Tell Mary to let her boyfriend know that Eddie Jarvis might be double-crossin’ him an’ sellin’ his moonshine to another bootlegger. An’ after she’s done that, tell Eddie Jarvis that King Higgins has set Big Jim on him.”

  Ol’ Man Barnes listened intently, and after he’d repeated it back to Tom he said, “Your pa works fast. It was just yesterday Eddie came in here drunk as a bat, braggin’ on how he’d met that revenuer a couple months back an’ told him June Higgins had a still in his woods. ’Course, Lance Rigsby was on his way up to your place ’most before the words was out of Eddie’s mouth.”

  “No need for Pa to wait once he had that kind of proof Eddie done it,” Tom said, trying to look like he’d known all about this.

  “You tell your pa I’ll take care of it,” the storekeeper called after Tom as he left.

  He was nothing but an errand boy, Tom thought as he headed toward the Rigsbys’ place. For a while, he’d been sure Pa was starting to look on him more as a partner, especially after he’d built the furnace when they set up the rig at the old homesite. But now that Andy was working at the still while he wrote his chapter on making moonshine, Pa had all the help he needed. Tom sighed. At first he’d been glad to have some free time, but now he was beginning to feel left out.

  Tom turned into the Rigsbys’ lane, reminding himself that if he were working with Pa, he wouldn’t be able to visit his friend. He waved when he saw Lonny and his father each planing a board clamped to a pair of sawhorses they’d set up in the shade.

  “Come on over here, Tom—I want you to look at somethin’,” Lance Rigsby called. “Now, what do you think of that?” he asked when Tom joined them.

  “Of what?” Tom asked, puzzled.

  “Of that planin’ job Lonny done. Bet you can’t tell the difference between Lonny’s board an’ mine.”

  Tom walked around the sawhorses, squinting at the boards they’d been smoothing and running his hand along each of them. Then he stood back and pointed at the one nearest Lonny. “It’s easy to tell this is the one done by a beginner,” he announced.

  Lance frowned, and Lonny looked so crestfallen that Tom had trouble keeping a straight face. Both of them looked at the boards, and Lance ran his hand along first one and then the other. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he said shortly. “Lonny’s done a fine job here!”

  “I didn’t say he hadn’t, Mr. Rigsby,” Tom said innocently, “but compared to you, Lonny’s a beginner, an’ I knew for sure that he done the one he’s standin’ next to.”

  Lance Rigsby slapped Tom on the back and said, “You’re a chip off the ol’ block, you know that? You got the same way with words your pa has.”

  A warm feeling stole over Tom, and he hoped he wasn’t blushing. “What are you gonna make?” he asked Lonny.

  “Blanket chest. If it turns out good enough, we’ll give it for a present at the next weddin’. If it don’t. Ma’s got herself a extry one.”

  “I’d guess it’s gonna be good enough for a gift,” Tom said, hoping to make up to Lonny for the joke he’d pulled on him.

  Ignoring the compliment, Lonny challenged, “So when do I git to see you workin’ with your pa?”

  “Tell you what,” Tom said, an idea forming in his mind, “you an’ Harry meet me after school t’morrer, an’ I’ll show you where we used to have our rig. You can see what’s left of the furnace I made.” Pa hadn’t seen any reason to destroy the evidence of a still at the old homesite, since there was no way it could be traced to him.

  Lonny quickly agreed to the plan, and Tom started home. Some folks didn’t know how lucky they were, he thought, remembering the pride in Lance Rigsby’s voice when he showed off Lonny’s work. “An’ all he done was take a tool an’ scrape a dumb ol’ board till it was smooth,” he muttered.

  The next afternoon, Tom scuffed through the fallen leaves with Lonny and Harry, wishing he’d never said he’d show them the old still site. Harry’s sharp eyes were sure to spot the hornets’ nest, and it wouldn’t take him long to figure out that—

  “Listen,” Harry said, breaking the silence.

  “Must be the preacher,” Lonny said as the pounding hoofbeats grew louder.

  Tom shook his head, remembering the message he’d given Ol’ Man Barnes the day before. “Preacher Taylor wouldn’t ride Odysseus that hard. It’s Eddie Jarvis.”

  “Yeah, Eddie ridin’ that bay mare he bought last month,” agreed Lonny.

  The boys hardly had time to move to the edge of the road before Eddie Jarvis galloped past with a vicious-looking brown dog ranning alongside him. Tom’s stomach contracted when he saw the malevolent look Eddie sent in his direction, and he knew the storekeeper had delivered Pa’s message.

  “They sure was flyin’,” Lonny said as they set off again. “That mean ol’ dog couldn’t hardly keep up!”

  “C’mon,” Harry said urgently. “We won’t never have another chance like this.”

  Tom and Lonny looked at each other and then at Harry. “Chance to do what?” Tom asked suspiciously.

  “To have a look at Eddie’s place.”

  Grinning, Lonny said, “Yeah! Let’s go.”

  Glad the boys had forgotten about going to the abandoned still site, Tom said, “I’ll walk up there with you, but all I’m gonna do is look. I ain’t gonna stay an’ mess ‘round Eddie’s place.”

  “You scared or somethin’?” Harry asked.

  “You’d be scared, too, if you had good sense,” Tom retorted, feeling prickles of excitement mixed with fear.

  “Even if I ain’t been to school like some people, I got sense enough to know Eddie can’t do me no harm when he ain’t there,” Harry said scornfully.

  “It won’t hurt none to poke ‘round a little,” Lonny said.

  Almost without realizing it, the boys had lowered their voices as they tumed onto the weed-choked track that led uphill from the wagon road to Eddie’s cabin. Even though they knew Eddie wasn’t home, their footsteps slowed as they drew near his clearing, and when they saw the cabin, they stopped and stared.

  “Ain’t much better ‘n a pig sty,” Harry declared.

  Before anyone could answer, the front door swung open and a stranger came out of the ramshackle cabin. The man hesitated when he saw the boys and then walked toward them. Even before Tom recognized him, he knew it had to be the bootlegger.

  “I’m a friend of Eddie’s,” the man said. “Do you know where I can find him?” When Tom shook his head, the bootlegger said, “Well, if you see him, you tell him Big Jim was here looking for him—and tell him I’ll be back.” He smiled, showing a gold tooth, but his eyes were cold.

  The boys were silent until Big Jim was out of sight, and then Harry said, “He’s a liar, ‘cause Eddie ain’t got no friends.” His voice rose with excitement as he added, “He’s probably a thief come lookin’ for the money Eddie gets from that bootlegger.”

  “Big Jim is the bootlegger,” Lonny said. “But all them moonshiners load their likker in his car back at the settlement, so what’s he doin’ over here?”

  Tell Eddie that King Higgins set Big Jim on him. There was a hollow feeling in Tom’s stomach as the words echoed through his mind. “He’s after Eddie,” he said.

  “Then somebody must of warned him, an’ that’s why he lit out of here so fast,” Lonny said thoughtfully.

  Tom looked away, fearful that his face would show too much, and his eye fell on the chain fastened to the corner of the cabin. He felt a new stir of excitement. That chain was long enough for Eddie’s dog to guard both the front door and the door of the lean-to kitchen out back. Tom’s heart began to beat faster. “I’m gonna have a look in that window,” he said, forgetting his earli
er fears. “Ain’t you comin’?”

  Furtively glacing over their shoulders, the boys followed him. Tom gave a start when the sagging porch floor creaked, and then his heart began to pound with excitement. Eddie had hung cornmeal sacks over his windows, and there was only one reason he’d have done that!

  Tom’s hand trembled as he pressed the latch and pushed the door open. Just as he’d thought! Eddie had his rig set up inside his cabin. He must have moved it there when the revenuers searching through the woods got too close for comfort.

  Behind him, Tom heard Lonny say, “Look at the size of that there still pot!”

  “Go on in,” Harry said. “I dare you.”

  Tom pulled the door shut. “I’m gonna go ‘round to the kitchen door.”

  Lonny and Harry followed him around the house, but the door to the lean-to kitchen was barred from the inside. “Boost me up to that there window,” Tom said, and he stepped into their cupped hands and was lifted high enough to grasp the sill. The window was open, and he pushed aside the filthy sack that served as a curtain. His eyes widened and he stared until, suddenly afraid, he whispered urgently. “Lemme down!” Once on the ground he ran, his friends at his heels, cutting through the woods instead of following the weedy track, and not stopping even when he reached the wagon road.

  “What was in there?” Lonny asked, panting, when Tom finally slowed to a walk.

  “Sacks of sugar an’ cornmeal stacked ‘most to the ceilin’,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

  Harry gave him a puzzled look. “So how come you ran?”

  “‘Cause I remembered what could happen to somebody that snoops ‘round a man’s still,” Tom said. He remembered the threatening look Eddie had sent in his direction, too. “You can go back there if you want, but I’m goin’ home.” Without waiting to see what the other boys would do, Tom started toward the settlement.

  “Ain’t you goin’ the wrong way?” Lonny called, hurrying after him.

  “I’m goin’ the long way. I ain’t gonna risk meetin’ up with Eddie between here an’ the footlog if he decides to come back home.” This was one time being June Higgins’s son would be a disadvantage.

  “You was gonna show us where your pa had his still, don’t forget,” Harry reminded him.

  “Some other time,” Tom said. He’d cut down that hornets’ nest soon as there was a killing frost, and then he’d show them.

  “It’s gittin’ kind of late anyhow,” Lonny said, glancing over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, let’s just stop by the store an’ tell folks about Eddie’s still,” Harry agreed.

  “I gotta get on home,” Tom said. The only one he wanted to tell was Pa. And he was going to tell him the whole story, even though Pa might be angry that he’d gone to Eddie’s place.

  When Tom burst into the cabin, Pa was raking hot coals onto the hearth to set the skillet on. “Where you been, boy? It’s ‘most supper time,” he said irritably.

  “You see, after school I was walkin’ with Lonny an’ Harry, an’ we saw Eddie Jarvis go ridin’ off toward Ox Gore Holler, lickety-split, an’ we—”

  “If this is gonna tum into a tale, you’d best set down an’ tell it while I fry us these taters an onions,” Pa interrupted.

  “It’s gonna be a tale, all right,” Tom said, sitting down on one of the stools in front of the fireplace.

  By the time Tom had finished his story, Pa was scraping the potatoes and onions onto their plates. “Wal,” he said, pulling his chair up to the table, “ain’t nobody gonna miss Eddie. He couldn’t talk for cussin’, an’ he was mean as a ol’ hog.” He blew on his coffee to cool it. “Yessir, a lot of folks are gonna be thankin’ me, once word of this gits ‘round.”

  “How’d you know Eddie was double-crossin’ Big Jim, anyhow?”

  “He wasn’t. He wouldn’t of dared.”

  Shocked, Tom stared across the table. He could hardly believe what he’d just heard. Everybody knew June Higgins never lied.

  Pa leaned across the table and demanded, “Did you tell Ol’ Man Barnes exactly what I told you to?”

  Tom nodded. “I said, ‘Tell Mary to let her boyfriend know that Eddie Jarvis might be—’” Might be. That was why Pa had insisted that he memorize the message word for word.

  “You know I don’t lie, boy,” Pa said. “Eddie might of been double-crossin’ that bootlegger, an’ I did set Big Jim on him. You seen that for yourself.”

  “If Eddie’d been home, I think that bootlegger would of killed him,” Tom said slowly, remembering the man’s cold smile.

  Pa shook his head. “Nah. He’d of threatened him, an’ maybe roughed him up a bit, but Big Jim wouldn’t of killed off one of his biggest suppliers. ‘Course, Ol’ Man Barnes might of led Eddie to think Big Jim was gonna kill him,” Pa added, looking wise.

  He should have known Pa wouldn’t have put Eddie in danger of his life, Tom realized, a little ashamed of the feeling of relief that flowed over him. But as he remembered the gleam of Big Jim’s gold tooth, Tom wished the bootlegger had never found his way to the little settlement at Nathan’s Mill—and even beyond.

  The next day was Saturday, and Tom helped Pa cut and split logs to fill the Widow Brown’s woodshed. By late morning, Tom was exhausted, but when he stopped to rest, Pa shook his head and said, “Settin’ in that schoolhouse all day long’s makin’ you soft, boy.”

  “I ain’t soft,” Tom protested. He picked up his ax again and began to swing it in rhythmic arcs, splitting the logs he and Pa had cut into stove lengths with the two-man saw. When he heard a holler, Tom was glad for the excuse to stop for a moment. “That’s Lonny,” he said. “But what’s all the racket?”

  To Tom’s amazement, Lonny and Harry lurched into sight on Eddie Jarvis’s wagon. Brambles hung from its sides, vines dangled from the spokes of the wheels, and its heavy load of cornmeal sacks had slid forward. “We heard a ax over this way an’ figured it might be you,” Lonny called, brushing some twigs off his shoulder.

  Mrs. Brown came out on her porch and asked, “What you boys got there? An how on earth did you git that ol’ wagon down my path?”

  The boys greeted her respectfully, and Lonny explained, “We’re takin’ Eddie’s cornmeal to the mission for Miz Taylor. She’s plannin’ on keepin’ it to give out to folks who fall on hard times.”

  “We was tryin’ to park the wagon a ways off the road when this ol’ mule took a notion to come down the path. Would of knocked our heads off on a low branch, if we hadn’t of ducked.” Harry sounded disgusted.

  “How come you two are helpin’ Miz Taylor?” Tom asked, feeling a little jealous.

  “She an’ the preacher was at Eddie’s place when we stopped by to have another look ‘round. The preacher’s busy bustin’ up Eddie’s still, so Miz Taylor put us to work loadin’ the wagon an’ asked us to drive it home for her,” Lonny explained. “We gotta take them sacks of sugar to the store so she can sell ‘em back to ÏÃMan Barnes, too.”

  Pa said, “Wal, don’t let us hold you up,” and taking the hint, the boys waved good-bye to Mrs. Brown. After some more difficulty with Eddie’s mule, they managed to get the wagon turned around, scraping the gatepost in the process.

  “I’m surprised that cornmeal an’ sugar didn’t disappear before Miz Taylor had a chance to move it out,” Tom said. “An’ Eddie’s big ol’ still pot, too.”

  “Folks probably didn’t dare take nothin’ for fear Eddie might be comin’ back.”

  Alarm for Mrs. Taylor spread through Tom. “You think he will?” he asked urgently, his voice rising.

  “Use your head, boy. ‘Course he won’t. He’d of left that dog of his to guard the place if he was. Now stop worryin’ about your teacher an’ git back to work, you hear?”

  “I hear,” Tom said automatically. He was glad Eddie Jarvis finally had to pay for sending the revenuers to look for Pa’s still, and he was relieved that Pa had handled it the way he did. No wonder folks looked up to a man who could settle a score l
ike that without bloodshed. Being driven from the hills where he’d lived his whole life was a hard punishment, but it was better than Eddie deserved, Tom thought as he picked up the ax again.

  25

  Lonny Rigsby was leaning against a tree at the edge of the clearing when Tom left the schoolhouse one Friday in mid-October. “You an’ your pa comin’ to our corn shuckin’ tonight?” Lonny asked as Tom walked toward him.

  “Wouldn’t miss it!” Tom said.

  Lonny lowered his voice and said, “Doc Mowbray was tellin’ folks down at the mill how he an’ Sol are gonna bring their own red ears.”

  Tom frowned. Com shuckings were supposed to be good family fun, with storytelling while everybody stripped the shucks off the com and a drink of whiskey—or, in this case. Pa’s apple brandy—as a prize when somebody pulled the shuck off an ear with red kemels. But if Doc and his brother brought a supply of red ears with them, they’d soon be knee-walking drank.

  “I’m glad your pa’s gonna be there. Everybody knows King Higgins is the only one that can keep them Mowbrays in line,” Lonny said, falling into step beside Tom. “You read the Bible through yet?” he asked suddenly.

  “Ain’t started it,” Tom said, deciding not to mention that he was halfway through the book Amy had given him.

  “Thought maybe you’d be readin’ it so’s you’d have somethin’ to talk about with your girlfriend. She’s back for a visit ‘cause she got so homesick at that boardin’ school they sent her off to.”

  Amy was back! That must be why Mrs. Taylor had seemed so cheerful today. Hoping his face didn’t show the pleasure he felt at that news, Tom said, “She don’t talk about the Bible. She just talks about the evils of drink.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Lonny muttered, and Tom saw Amy coming toward them on Agamemnon. She didn’t look like she’d changed a bit, but then she’d only been gone a month.