Midnight Rescue / The Proposal / Christy's Choice (7 page)

Six

C
hristy knelt down. “What is it, David?”

“Jugs, lots of them! Moonshine whiskey! I should have recognized the smell.”

“But . . . right here, underneath the school?” Christy cried in disbelief.

She heard voices and turned to see several of her students. Ruby Mae hung back from the group. Her face was red and blotchy from crying.

“Miz Christy,” asked Creed Allen. “What in tarnation is wrong with all these hogs? Mabel's walkin' like she's got her legs screwed on backwards. And the rest of 'em—well, I ain't never heard this much hog-snorin' in all my days!”

“Christy,” David called from under the school, “can you take these jugs from me? I'll hand them to you, one at a time.”

“Just a minute, David. Some of the children are here—”

“Let them see!” David called angrily. “Let them see the evil hidden under their own schoolhouse.”

“What's hidden?” asked Little Burl Allen, Creed's sweet six-year-old brother. “Is the preacher a-playin' hide-and-seek, Teacher?”

“Not exactly, Little Burl,” Christy said, just as David passed her a thick brown jug. She set it on the ground. The children stared at it curiously.

“Moonshine?” whispered John Spencer, one of the older students.

“There's moonshine under the school?” Creed cried. “No wonder them hogs is snorin' so loud! They's drunk on homemade whiskey!”

Most of the children began to laugh, although a few of the older boys, like Lundy Taylor, kept watching Christy guardedly.

“I know it seems funny,” Christy said as she accepted more jugs from David. “But this is no laughing matter, children.”

“I'll say it ain't,” Lundy muttered darkly. “My pa says you-all are messin' where you don't belong. This ain't the business of a teacher or a preacher-person.”

David crawled out from under the floor space. His face was smudged with dirt. His eyes were hot with anger.

“I heard that, Lundy,” he said as he stood. “And let me tell you something you can pass on to your pa. When I find illegal liquor on mission property, it becomes my business, whether your pa and his friends like it or not.”

David stooped down and grabbed one of the jugs. He uncorked it and sniffed the contents with a look of disgust. Then he turned the jug upside down. The amber liquid gurgled and spattered as it poured onto the ground. The air filled with a sharp, sweet smell.

“You ain't got no right to throw away good moonshine like that!” Lundy cried.

“There's nothing good about moonshine, Lundy Taylor,” Christy said with feeling. “Didn't you see what happened to Doctor MacNeill?”

“But ain't that worth a lot of money, Teacher?” Creed asked innocently. “Pa says moonshine fetches a big price, 'specially over the state lines where it's hard to get.”

“It's also worth a lot of pain, Creed,” Christy said.

David uncorked another bottle. His hands were trembling. Christy had never seen him so furious.

“Children, I want you all to go back inside now,” she instructed.

“But what about them hogs?” Little Burl asked, worried.

“They'll sleep it off, Little Burl,” Christy assured him, patting his tangled hair. “Don't you worry.”

“When my grandpa gets to drinkin', he'll sleep for two days straight,” said Bessie Coburn.

“Yes, well, we can talk about that more inside,” Christy said, shooing the children away. Slowly they returned to class, until only Lundy was left. He was a big boy, almost as tall as David. And with the threatening look in his eyes right now, he seemed even bigger.

“Do you know anything about who put these jugs here, Lundy?” Christy asked, her voice quivering.

Lundy glared at her. “I ain't a-tellin' you nothin' except this—you mission folks is makin' a big mistake.”

“Don't you go threatening us, Lundy Taylor,” David warned.

“We have to get rid of the moonshine, Lundy,” Christy said gently, yet firmly. “Can't you see that?”

Lundy backed away slowly. “All I see is a heap more trouble than the sorry likes of you can handle.”

Without another word, he raced off into the thick woods.

“I still don't understand why they put the moonshine there,” Christy said at dinner that night. “Right under the church! It's such a crazy place to store illegal liquor.”

Silence fell over the table. It had been a tense meal. David was still fuming about the moonshine. Ruby Mae was still pouting about Prince. Doctor MacNeill, who'd insisted on coming downstairs to join them for dinner, was still running a fever. Miss Alice was gathering up supplies. She was on her way to help a woman in Big Gap deliver a baby. And Miss Ida was annoyed that no one was eating the meal she'd prepared.

“I wonder how long those jugs have been down there,” Christy continued.

“They may have put them there long ago,” David suggested, “thinking it would be the last place anyone would look. Or it could have been a defiant gesture—an answer, if you can call it that, to my sermon last Sunday.”

“Come to think of it, I did hear noises out by the school late last night,” Christy said.

“You were outside last night?” David asked in surprise.

Christy glanced over at Ruby Mae. “Oh, just for a few minutes. A little walk, to clear my head.”

David looked over at the doctor. “I suppose, with this latest development, you're dying to say I told you so?”

Doctor MacNeill shifted positions in his chair. He'd barely touched his food. “No, David,” he said after a moment of reflection. “I'm not about to gloat. What would be the point?”

“Since when do you keep your opinions to yourself?” David demanded.

The doctor sighed heavily. “I will tell you this. I am worried about this situation. It was one thing to preach a sermon about moonshine. It was quite another to dump out jug after jug. That was someone's property, like it or not—”

“Property!” David cried. “That was illegal liquor, on
my
property!” He paused. “On
our
property, I should say.”

“That's not the point,” the doctor said. “The point is that you've just added fuel to a very dangerous fire. I'm worried that whoever put that moonshine there will try to retaliate now.”

“Retaliate?” Miss Ida echoed. “Against whom?” “Against the mission. Against David, or maybe Christy. After all, the children witnessed them dumping the moonshine together.”

David looked at Christy and frowned. “
I'm
the one who did the dumping and gave the sermon. Why would they act against Christy?”

“Because she represents the mission, too,” the doctor answered. “In a way, she has more contact with these people than you do. You see them every Sunday for an hour, if you're lucky. She's the one teaching the children of these moonshiners, every single day.”

The doctor winced as he tried to reach for a glass of water. Ruby Mae moved it closer for him. “Thanks, Ruby Mae. Say, you've been awfully quiet this evening.”

Ruby Mae stared at her plate, her lower lip jutting.

“She's pouting,” Christy explained.

“And why is that?” asked Doctor MacNeill.

“They won't let me take care of Prince anymore and he's just gonna plain starve out there without me!” Ruby Mae cried.

“Ruby Mae,” David said gently, “I fed Prince an hour ago. He ate like . . . well, like a horse. Trust me. He is not going to starve.”

“Without me, he's a-goin' to starve for love!” Ruby Mae cried.

Christy smiled at the doctor. “Tell us, Doctor. Have you ever come across such a medical condition?”

“Starving for love. Hmmm. Hmmm.” The doctor tapped his finger on his chin. “There have been documented cases, although they usually appear in the human male.” He grinned at Christy. “Now, in a mammal the size of a horse, I would think it would take, oh, a good two months or so for any symptoms to develop.”

“Two months,” Christy repeated, winking at the doctor. “That's plenty of time for you to get your schoolwork and chores back on track, Ruby Mae.”

“What does he know?” Ruby Mae said. “He ain't no horse doctor.”

“By the way, have you started on that English homework I assigned?” Christy asked.

“Not yet,” Ruby Mae said sullenly.

Miss Alice came bustling into the room from the kitchen where she had packed some food to take with her. She was carrying a paper sack and her medical bag in her left hand. Her sprained wrist was much better, but she still had her right arm in a sling most of the time.

She pursed her lips. “I do hate to go, what with Neil still running a fever and this trouble with the moonshine. But Janey Cook's had a couple of hard deliveries, and I'd like to be there. I won't be as much use as I'd like, with this arm of mine, but her grandmother will be there, too. Together we should manage.”

“Be careful, Miss Alice,” the doctor warned. “I'm concerned about retaliation over that moonshine David threw out.”

“I can take care of myself,” Miss Alice said. She shook a warning finger at the group. “But I want the rest of you to keep an eye out. And David, this might be a good time to let things simmer down a little. Give folks a chance to think.”

“Who is it you think is going to be retaliating, anyway?” David asked, sounding defensive.

“Bird's-Eye Taylor is one of the biggest moonshiners in these parts, of course,” Miss Alice said. “And I suspect he uses Lundy to help him. But there are others.”

“Tom McHone, for one,” the doctor added. “And Jubal McSween and Dug—” He stopped in midsentence.

“Go ahead and say it, Doc,” said Ruby Mae, her eyes flashing. “Sure, my step-pa's made moonshine and sold it some. Everybody does it around these parts. I ain't defendin' him or nothin'. But there ain't no way else to make a proper living here.” She tossed her napkin onto the table. “Not like that'll stop you-all from tellin' the rest of the world how to live their lives and what they can do and can't do and if'n they can be with the one thing that means more to them than the whole rest of the wide world.” She pushed back her chair. “Can I be excused?” she demanded. “I got dishes to do, and homework.”

“Yes, Ruby Mae,” Christy said. “You may be excused.”

She watched as Ruby Mae dashed from the room. “I hope she doesn't stay mad forever,” she said sadly.

“That's one thing people in these mountains do very, very well,” said the doctor with a weary smile. “Stay mad. And get even.”

Ruby Mae stared down at the tear-stained diary page. The ink was blurry. The letters melted one into another, but she could still make out her words:

I can't stand it no more. It just ain't fare. Prins needs me as much as I need him. Well, mebbe not as much, but almost. Itz only bin a few ours and my hart is braking. How kin I go for weeks without seein him, or mebbe even longer?

She wiped her eyes and sniffled. It was very late. The others had gone to sleep hours ago.

With a sigh, she went to the window and opened it wide. The chill air sent a shiver through her. Out there, past Miss Alice's vegetable garden, past the lattice-covered well, past the school, was the little shed where Prince was waiting for her.

Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Creed Allen said animals could feel even more than people could, and she liked to think he was right. (Although Creed also swore that his raccoon, Scalawag, could read his mind, and she had serious doubts about that. After all, Creed was known for the whoppers he liked to tell.)

A sound, a strange rhythmic thud, met her ears. It seemed to be coming from far away, but there was an urgency to it.

she heard a wild, desperate whinny, like nothing she'd ever heard before.

Prince! It had to be him.

The sound came again, a horrible cry carried on the wind.

He sounded terribly afraid. Whatever was happening to Prince, it was bad, very bad.

She had to get to him, and get there fast.

Ruby Mae threw open her bedroom door and flew down the stairs. She ran across the wet lawn in her bare feet. Another terrified whinny filled the air, followed by a series of pounding noises, as if Prince were trying to kick right through the sides of his stall.

She didn't slow down, not for an instant, not even when she realized that there might be someone lurking behind the dark trees, lying in wait.

Breathless and shivering, she finally made it to the shed. The door was slightly ajar. Either the preacher had forgotten to close the door, or someone else had been here.

Or someone might even still be here.

With a deep breath, Ruby Mae flung open the door. “Who's there?” she cried, trying her best to sound like someone big and scary and well-armed.

She took a step inside. The familiar smells of hay and leather and manure greeted her. In the dim moonlight, she could make out something lying on the floor.

It was the preacher's saddle, the one Prince wore! Ruby Mae knelt down, tracing her fingers over the dark leather. Someone had slashed the beautiful saddle with a knife. Long gashes covered the seat. The girth had been ripped out and tossed aside.

A low, sweet whinny of greeting made Ruby Mae look up.

“Prince?” she whispered. “Are you all right, boy?”

Trembling, she stepped closer. And then she saw the answer to her question. The beautiful black stallion was not all right, not at all.

Seven

L
ordamercy!” Ruby Mae cried in horror. “Prince, what have they done to you?”

Prince's beautiful flowing tail, mane, and forelock had been sheared off. They lay clumped in the hay by his feet. He looked pathetic, and he knew it. He pawed at the floor, throwing his head up and down in angry protest.

Ruby Mae draped her arms around the horse's broad neck. “Oh, Prince,” she moaned, “I could just bust out cryin'. You ain't hurt, is you?”