CHAPTER
23

Early the next morning, his shotgun resting on his shoulder, Luke cut through the grassy thicket on his way to the chapel car. Today, Luke and the preacher would set out in search of Kirby’s still. Both men were certain it must be hidden deep in the woods. Luke surmised Kirby would have located the still on company property so there’d be less chance of anyone nosing around. Luke wasn’t scheduled to work at the mine today, but Kirby should be there. He usually drove the women to Fern Hollow on Thursdays, which would give Luke and the preacher several days to search before Kirby made another run. At least that was their hope.

Before he had an opportunity to knock, Hope opened the door into the living quarters of the chapel car and greeted him with a bright smile. She stepped to the side and gestured for him to come in. “You’re nice and early. Coffee?”

He removed his cap as he entered. “Already had my breakfast and two cups of coffee. That’s my limit.” He nodded to the preacher. “Mornin’, Preacher. You all set?”

Hope’s father pushed to his feet. “Believe I am.” He turned to face his daughter. “You remember what I told you, Hope. You stay away from Kirby until we get things sorted out. I don’t want to think he’d do anyone harm, but sometimes folks react just like animals. Get ’em trapped and they come out fighting.”

Hope picked up a dish towel and began drying the breakfast dishes. “There’s no reason to worry. I don’t see Kirby during the day unless we’re going on one of our trips out of town. You two are the ones who need to be careful. You may find some unexpected moonshiners out there while you’re looking for Kirby.”

“More apt to get ourselves shot by revenuers than moonshiners. I don’t think the moonshiners are brave enough to set up in the woods behind the mine. Most of ’em have their stills in the woods on the hill. The Finches own all the land ’round here, but the men living on the hill consider the woods up there to be theirs.” Luke shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure why, but it’s always been thataway.”

Her father grabbed his hat and followed Luke to the door. “Remember what I told you—keep your distance from Kirby.”

She stepped onto the platform. “I’ll do that. And you two remember to keep a good lookout. I don’t want anything to happen to either one of you.”

Luke waved his hat overhead as they walked off, then glanced toward the preacher. “One good thing, we got us a fine day to go out in the woods.” He tipped his head back and inhaled a deep breath. “You can smell the air changing. Fall will be here afore we know it.”

Reverend Irvine followed Luke’s lead and took several sniffs. “Believe you’re right. Seems like a big part of summer slipped right on by while I was recuperating. Nothing like living in the mountains during the fall season.”

“That’s true enough. It’s downright pretty in the winter when the snow’s falling too, but the blowing wind and cold means keepin’ fires burnin’ day and night. That sure can take away from the pleasure.” He grinned. “’Course when I was a young’un, I couldn’t wait for the snow to fall. Me and the other boys would slide down the hillside on big ol’ pieces of cardboard we’d get from the general store.” He stared into the distance. “That seems like a lifetime ago, but not a whole lot has changed since then—leastwise not in these parts.”

The two men continued talking until they’d drawn near the road leading to the mine when Luke motioned to turn in the opposite direction.

The preacher glanced toward the mine, then back at Luke. “Did they move the mine? Last I knew, it was that way.” He pointed to the gravel road.

Luke chuckled. “It hasn’t been moved, but we don’t want to be seen heading out to the woods. We’re gonna end up in the woods behind the mine, but we’ll be getting there a different way. Although it’ll take us a little longer, it’s safer this way.”

The preacher nodded and said, “I’ll follow your lead. You’re the one who knows what’s best out in these woods.”

Luke moved slowly through the thick underbrush and noted no signs of disturbance. He looked over his shoulder. “Hard to be quiet with all this overgrowth. It’s clear no one has cut through here. Even so, try to be as quiet as possible. I doubt we’ll come across the path being used by Kirby out this way, but you can’t never be sure.”

“I’m doing my best.” The preacher kept his voice low.

It was clear the preacher hadn’t grown up hunting in the woods. If there was a dry branch, it was tromped down by his heavy boot. The resulting cracks of wood caused Luke to flinch, but he said no more. The preacher was doing his best. They’d gone deep into the woods, then circled around. Now they cut back toward an area Luke thought might be a good space to hide a still.

He turned around and waited until the preacher drew near. He pointed toward the spot. “I’m going to go down there and have a look around. Why don’t you stay here and keep a lookout? Watch from over there.” He nodded toward the left. “The mine is down that direction, and I’m guessing Kirby would come that way. I don’t expect him this time of day, though you can’t be sure. I won’t be able to see him coming when I’m down there.”

The preacher narrowed his eyes. “You want me to holler if he comes? How can I warn you without . . . ?”

Luke tapped the gun resting on his shoulder. “Turn in the other direction and shoot. Whoever’s out there will shout to get your attention. You holler back and apologize. Tell ’em you’re hunting squirrel and didn’t expect to see anyone this far out. That’ll give me time to get out of there and hightail it back to town. Then you do the same as soon as you’re able.”

The preacher appeared a little worried, but Luke didn’t stick around long enough for the older man to object. Being careful not to slip, he descended the sloping hillock and surveyed the surrounding area. He studied a pile of branches that appeared somewhat out of place, then turned his attention to examining the damp ground. There were footprints throughout the space, one set larger than the other. The larger set appeared to have been created by thick-soled work boots, while the other set looked as if it had been made by shoes rather than boots.

Luke walked over to the mound of branches and carefully pulled aside several limbs. He sighed. This looked like quite an operation. An area had been molded into the hillside, and once the branches were placed over the opening, the still was protected from sight on all sides. The interior was larger than Luke had anticipated and not only housed a large still, but it provided storage for stacks of crates, jars, and heaps of corn. He shook his head. He doubted any of the locals would have established anything this large—or permanent. Fearing revenuers who stalked the woods, most of the local moonshiners moved their stills frequently and carried their supplies with them each time they made their shine.

From the looks of this place, Luke surmised shine was being made most every day. Considering the supplies and location, he was sure Kirby owned the still, but who was making the shine? Most likely, Kirby didn’t possess the knowledge or have the time to come out in the woods every day and make shine.

Luke dragged the branches back across the opening, then took one final look. He hoped his presence would go undetected. For now, he needed to get out of here. Whoever was working for Kirby could show up any minute.

Once she’d finished drying the dishes, Hope stepped from the living quarters into the sanctuary portion of the chapel car where she could sort through teaching materials. She raised a few of the windows to allow for fresh air to blow through. Then, using the pews to hold the papers, she divided the materials according to the children’s different age groups. With both Nellie and Luke helping her when they visited the small communities, it had become much easier for her to divide the materials into separate boxes for the visits they would make in the coming week. Of course, she couldn’t be certain there would be any more visits, not if Luke’s suspicions proved true. And even if Luke was wrong, unless Kirby could get over the anger he’d exhibited upon their recent return from Denton, she doubted he’d be willing to provide their transportation any longer or that she and Nellie should accompany him.

Although he’d been angry when they parted, she had thought he might come to the late service. In truth, she’d fully expected him to appear. She’d even been a bit disappointed when he didn’t. Not because she wanted to see him, but because she wanted an apology for his behavior when he’d driven off yesterday. And perhaps she wanted to believe he wasn’t who he now appeared to be.

She picked up one of the papers and moved it to another pew as a knock sounded at the door of their living quarters. “Just a moment.” She pushed a wayward curl behind her ear and hurried to the door. “Kirby! What are you doing here at this time of day? Is something wrong?” She peered around his shoulder in the direction of the mine.

“No. Not unless something happened in the last half hour.” He moved a step closer, and she backed away, permitting him just enough space to pass by. Before she could object, he was inside the living quarters. He nodded to the stove. “Coffee?”

“I’m afraid not,” she said.

He glanced toward the other end of the car, then sat down. “Your father in there going over his sermon for tonight?”

“No.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to elaborate. “He’s gone for a while, so you really need to leave. It isn’t proper for us to be alone together.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Where is he?”

“He went squirrel hunting with Luke, but they should be back any time now.” The first part of what she’d told him was the truth; she prayed the second part would be true, as well. “If you want to talk to him, you should wait outside, or I can ask him to pay you a visit at your office when he returns.” She remained standing near the door, but he didn’t get up.

“I hope you aren’t angry with me about my reckless driving yesterday. I know I was going too fast when I made that turn. I think the fender can be repaired so my father will never know it happened.” He leaned back and met her gaze. “What did Luke say about the wreck?”

She frowned. “He had to have a couple of stitches to close up that cut, and I’m sure he’s thankful he jumped out of the truck before it hit the tree. Otherwise he might be dead.”

Kirby chuckled. “I think you’re exaggerating just a little. The accident wasn’t serious enough to kill anyone. Besides, I recall that Luke was feeling good enough to kiss you when you started talking to him.”

Kirby’s tone made her squirm. She peered out the window, but there was still no sign of her father. “I want you to leave, Kirby. My father wouldn’t approve of your being here.”

He stood and drew closer. His eyes dropped from her face down the length of her figure. “And what about you? Do you approve enough to let me kiss you?”

“No, I do not.” The hair at the nape of her neck prickled. She needed to get him out of these tight quarters. She took another step toward the door, but he blocked the path. If she couldn’t get him to leave, maybe she could escape through the sanctuary.

He offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t appropriate, but you can’t fault me for trying. I promise it won’t happen again. In truth, I’d already guessed that Luke stole that kiss. I knew a proper young lady such as yourself would never do anything to compromise your self-respect or that of your father.” He leaned against the metal doorjamb, his stance now relaxed. His eyes shone with intensity, however. “What was it you were saying to Luke when he forced himself on you? I thought I heard you say something about an odor. Am I right?”

His sudden change of attitude and abrupt question jarred her. “W-what?”

“I heard you say something about an odor, and Luke mumbled a reply before he kissed you. But I didn’t hear what either of you said.” He straightened and looked her in the eyes.

Her stomach churned. She couldn’t tell him what they’d discussed, but he wasn’t going to leave without a response. “You’re right. I did say that I thought there was a strange odor and I wasn’t able to distinguish it. I think Luke said it was likely some sort of fluid leaking from the truck. I’m not sure because I was so surprised by his unexpected behavior.”

Kirby’s gaze didn’t waver. He seemed to be deciding whether she’d told him the truth. “So what kind of fluid did he think it was? He must have mentioned it after you went to the doctor’s office with him.”

His tenacity was beginning to frighten her. Did he suspect they knew the truth or was he seeking an assertion that proved he had nothing to fear? If she was going to get him to leave, she needed to reassure him.

She prayed her response would have the desired effect. “I’ve told you what little there is to relate about our conversation. I’m confused as to why you’re so concerned about that silly conversation about an odd smell in the truck rather than Luke’s injuries from the accident. I have to say I’m disappointed you haven’t shown more compassion. I think your concerns are misplaced. You seem to care more about your truck than Luke’s welfare.”

“Luke’s welfare? You’ve already told me the doctor stopped his bleeding with a couple stitches and that he’s out hunting. I don’t think his condition requires any further inquiry.”

“Truly? Then why does my mention of an odor in your truck require so many questions?” She’d decided to try a new tactic and put Kirby on the defensive. Maybe that would force him out the door.

Instead of heading off, he dropped to a chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, I don’t know. Once I found out you were alone, I thought it would be a good time for us to visit. As I’ve said before, we never get much time alone.” He pointed to the opposite chair. “Sit down and let’s talk some more. I promise I won’t ask any more questions about the accident. Truth is, I’ve been thinking about going back to Pittsburgh for a visit, and I thought you might like to join me on the train. You could come along and meet some of my family and visit a few of your old friends. I was going to ask your father if he’d approve. That’s the real reason I came to see him this morning.”

Hope’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him. There must be something wrong with him. Maybe he’d hit his head in the accident and didn’t realize he’d injured himself. His behavior was making no sense, and now she worried he might actually hurt her if he didn’t like her response.

She sent up a silent prayer asking God to deliver her. Her father had warned that a man who felt trapped could come out fighting. If this was Kirby’s way of fighting, not only was it underhanded, it was terrifying.

Luke followed behind the preacher as they picked their way back to the road. They’d made the trek in silence, and Luke had been careful to cover their tracks during the descent.

When they were out of the woods, Luke detailed the operation. “Sure is a lot bigger than what I expected to find. If it’s Kirby that’s running it—and I’m sure it is since we smelled the moonshine in his truck—then he’s bound to be putting some of the other bootleggers out of business. It’s not gonna take long before they figure out what he’s doin’, and he’s gonna find himself in more trouble than he knows how to handle.”

The preacher pushed his hat back on his head. “But you still don’t think it’s Kirby who’s making the moonshine?”

Luke shook his head. “Naw. There are two stills in there, and they both look to be like the others I’ve seen in these parts. He wouldn’t know how to make a still, and there’s nobody gonna teach him. Leastwise I don’t think so. And like I said, he doesn’t have time to sit on the mountain making shine.”

“So how do we find out who’s helping him?”

“I’m not sure about that just yet.” Luke shifted his shotgun to his other shoulder. “I could plant myself up there and keep a lookout. Could be a might dangerous, but the only other way I know to find out for sure is if Kirby tells us. I don’t ’spect he’s gonna do that, but you never know. If he thinks it will keep him out of trouble, he’d likely turn on his own kin.”

“That’s a harsh judgment, Luke, but you may be right. Let’s head on back. We can tell Hope what we found, and you can pick up the notes I made for you on tonight’s sermon.” He smiled. “You did a fine job. As usual, I didn’t have many comments.”

Luke hadn’t received help with his sermons while the preacher was recovering from his illness, and folks thought he’d done well filling in for the preacher. But Luke wanted to prepare himself to be more than a substitute. He’d prayed long and hard about the future and believed that one day he would lead a church of his own. When that happened, he wanted to know he’d done everything he could to be prepared. They’d agreed that Luke would continue to preach at one of the meetings each day, yet Luke insisted the preacher examine his sermons. Even though Hope’s father thought the review unnecessary, he’d agreed.

One of the miners was hunched on the boardwalk outside the general store. His face was covered by his hands, and his miner’s hat was lying on the ground in front of him. The preacher glanced at Luke. “Let me go and talk to him. You go on over to the chapel car. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

Luke didn’t argue. There was little doubt the miner had problems that needed both prayer and advice. Luke knew the preacher would provide both, along with a strong dose of comfort.

Taking long strides, he walked to the depot, then crossed the tracks toward the spur. Several windows of the chapel car were open, and the sun glistened on the shiny brass rail that surrounded the rear platform. Eager to tell Hope what they’d discovered, he loped across the grassy thicket, but then stopped short when he neared the window of the living quarters.

Luke’s heart started pounding. He sprinted toward the chapel car, straining for a better view. He clenched his jaw.

Kirby was alone with Hope.