Shine (Kentucky Outlaw Book 1) (6 page)

Now that he was back in his hometown he tried to reconcile that feeling when he was younger with the reason he’d left.
 
He thought when he took off he wanted to find himself, but he quickly found out that reason was bullshit.
 
He’d left because he needed to find out if he could live a life without his family and without moonshine.
 
He wanted to know if he could really make it on his own.
 
Even two years later he still didn’t have an answer.
 

“You have any since you been back?” Jackie asked as they were getting out of the car.
 

Ethan stood by the car, not getting any closer, as if the past could reach out and grab him, trap him in that place, and never let him go.
 
“Had some last night.”

“That stuff the old man keeps at the house with the charcoal floating in it?
 
He might as well pour that shit down the sink.”
 

Keeping his eyes on the little structure Ethan said, “It tasted pretty good to me.”

Jackie walked to the shed and opened the door.
 
He wasn’t inviting Ethan inside, he was just standing in the doorway looking inside. His mouth kept speaking, but Ethan could tell his mind was wandering off somewhere.
 

“The Old Man’s lost his touch.
 
Used to be even the stuff not worth selling was better than anything anybody else could come up with, but he can’t do it anymore and he’s too stubborn to retire.”
 
Jackie turned back to Ethan.
 
“It’s Ged now.
 
Ged’s got the magic and oh my god, have you got to taste it.
 
He can make whiskey that’s less than a month old taste like it’s been sitting in a barrel for thirty years.”

Jackie finally stepped inside the shed and Ethan followed.
 
Inside was a sight as familiar as the smell.
 
The copper pots, the furnace, the kegs of water, all of it sent Ethan into a dizzying spiral of memories.
 
He’d spent more time in this shed than anywhere else.
 
From a young age, Ethan had learned the family trade and had helped create the Dalton’s famous, and illegal, homemade whiskey.
 
But Ethan knew he was never going to be as good as his father or Ged.
 
They had the real talent for it.
 
No, Ethan’s big contribution to the family business was his driving.

Along one wall was a shelf with twenty or so mason jars.
 
Each jar contained whiskey of varying amounts and color.
 
Jackie took a jar, unscrewed the lid, and took a good pull.
 
Ethan took it from him and smelled deeply, then took a small drink.
 
The whiskey was so smooth it didn’t burn at all.
 

“What’d I tell you?
 
Is that not the best thing you ever tasted?” asked Jackie.
 
“And that ain’t even his best.
 
Folks been coming from all over to get Ged’s shine.
 
Hell, Traxler said one fella came up from Florida, bought every goddamn jar Traxler was willing to part with, and headed on back down south.”
 
Jackie checked his watch.
 
“Better get a move on.
 
The old man’s coming out this way soon and if he catches us here he’ll put us to work.
 
We got a run tonight so I’ll be damned if I work all day and all night.”

“Wait just a minute,” said Ethan.
 
“We can’t come all the way out here without me saying hello.”

They walked to one of the other sheds, this one a prefab job made of out of fiberglass rather than the old wooden one with the still inside.
 
Ethan opened the door and there she was.
 
The black Mazda RX-8 that Ethan had driven since he was old enough to see over the wheel.
 
It was the runner car, it was sleek, low, and by God it would outrun any other car in the county, especially the police cars.
 

When you set out to run shine you needed two drivers.
 
One man drove the truck that was full of the illegal homemade booze, and the other man needed to be in a very fast car.
 
He would drive a mile in front of the truck, going very fast.
 
If any cops were out on the road then the runner car would catch the attention and the cop would chase after him.
 
That car had to be very fast to outrun the cops, and it couldn’t registered to anyone.
 
That’s why they couldn’t use their personal vehicles.

“You keep her running good?” asked Ethan, accusingly.

“Hell yes.
 
She runs better than ever.
 
If she didn’t, we’d get caught and I reckon you’d crawl out from whatever hole you were in and come back just to skin me alive for letting anything happen to her.”

Ethan ran his hand along the hood.
 
There was a fine layer of dust on the car.
 
Apparently it had been a few weeks since they made a run.

“Alright,” said Ethan.
 
“I seen her.
 
We can go.”

The boys didn’t say much while coming out of the holler and heading back into town.
 
The comment about crawling out from a hole bothered Ethan.
 
He didn’t really think Jackie meant anything by it.
 
Jackie wasn’t the type to keep opinions to himself, but there had been truth to what he said.
 

They were halfway home when Jackie’s phone rang.
 
Ethan could tell from Jackie’s half of the conversation that Jackie had forgotten some appointment. After he hung up the phone he said to Ethan, “I got to run you home real quick.
 
I forgot I was meeting somebody.”

“What’s her name?”

“Kyla.”

Ethan shook his head in disbelief but was smiling.
 
“Just drop me off up here.”

“You sure?
 
What are you going to do?”

“Figure I’ll head to Traxler’s.
 
See what that asshole’s been up to for the last two years.”

Ethan got out of the car and Jackie sped off.
 
The block Ethan landed on had changed so much it took him a minute to figure out exactly where he was.
 
Where there used to be rundown buildings and a lot of empty storefronts was a revitalized area complete with shops and restaurants.
 
Even though it was the afternoon in the middle of the week the sidewalk was busy with folks out shopping.
 

He saw Julie Prescott walking down the opposite side of the street.
 
He hadn’t seen her in over two years but there she was all grown up.
 
She looked amazing in her dark jeans and slim blazer, but it wasn’t the clothes that made her look older. It was something in the way she moved.
 
Gone was the shy girl that always walked with her arms folded across her chest.
 
Now she moved with the grace and confidence of someone much older.

Ethan had seen something in her even all those years ago.
 
She was a couple years younger than him, but he could tell there was a spark in her, something that would grow into a full fire of the spirit as she got older.
 
When Nick started dating her Ethan was even a little jealous, but she was his friend’s girlfriend so he knew she was completely off limits.
 
The fact at she was a rich girl from Buffalo Hill and he came from down in the holler just meant that there could never be anything between them.
 
But even so, there she was, grown up and beautiful and he felt a little catch in his chest.

She didn’t see him, and he thought of calling out to her, but let it go and headed in the other direction.

Traxler’s Bar was right on the edge of the factory district, almost directly under the bridge that stretched across the Kentucky River.
 
The building itself was a windowless concrete box that had catered for years to blue-collar workers downing cheap, cold beer after long factory shifts. When the factories started closing down and the jobs moved overseas, honest workers started coming around less and dishonest ones started coming up with new ways to make money.
 
Almost overnight, Traxler’s went from a working class bar to a place the cops kept an eye on.

Julie double checked the locks on her car before heading inside, not that she really thought anyone would break into a beat up ten year old Honda Civic.
 
It was just after two in the afternoon, but the bar was already half full.
 
When she walked in most of the men stared at her, not used to seeing young women at the bar who weren’t working girls.
 

Traxler stood behind the bar, pretending not to notice her as he read his paper.
 
He was a large man, at least six and a half feet tall, with a belly that hung over his belt.
 
He kept his long hair tied back in a ponytail, while his beard partially obscured the words Lynyrd Skynyrd on his t-shirt.

“Help you?” he said, in a rough voice thickened by a redneck accent.

“Evan Williams,” she said.
 

Traxler poured her a glass, not bothering to ask if she wanted ice.
 
It was a challenge, which she accepted by the downing the drink in a single swallow then pointing the glass, asking for a refill.

She sipped her second drink and said, “I got some questions for you.”

Traxler put the bottle away and said, “I don’t talk to cops.”

“I’m not a cop.
 
I’m a reporter with the
Press
.
 
I just need to ask you a few things about Nicholas Butler.”

Putting both hands on the bar, Traxler leaned forward and said, “I sure as shit don’t talk to reporters.”

She looked around the bar.
 
The walls were the same concrete as outside.
 
No effort had been made to disguise them, or even decorate them except for the bar’s neon signs.
 
Julie had drawn the attention of a man in the corner.
 
He was a skinny guy with long hair. Their eyes met, and Julie held his gaze for several seconds, before turning back to Traxler.

“You were a witness the night Butler was killed.
 
I just want to know if there was anything you left out of your report or if there’s anything else you remembered later.”

“Lady, pay for your drinks and get the hell out of my bar.”

“All I want is to talk.
 
That’s all.”

Real anger flared in his eyes.
 
“I said get out.”

Julie tossed the rest of her drink down her throat.
 
“I’ll leave a card in case you change your mind.”

Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door.
 
She was flung outside and it was all she could do not to land hard on the gravel.
 
She looked up and saw the man with the long hair who had been sitting in the corner.
 
He was wearing ripped jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off.

“Get on out,” he shouted.
 
“Ain’t nobody want you around here.”

“I was just asking about Nicholas Butler.
 
You know something about his murder?”
 

He stopped only about a foot from her.
 
She instinctively wanted to back away from him, but held her ground.
 
The man spit, missing her shoes by inches.
 
“Never heard of him.
 
Don’t know nothin’ about it.”

“Then why’d you throw me out?”
“Cause you’re a goddamn trouble maker and we don’t like trouble makers around here.”

Julie decided not to point out the bar was full of trouble makers.
 
“Listen, I just need to know a few things.
 
If I can talk to you I promise I’ll never mention your name.
 
You don’t have to worry about the cops.”

The mention of the cops sent the man into a rage.
 
He howled and came after Julie.
 
She was turning to run back to her car when the man went tumbling to the ground.
 
Standing above the man was Ethan Dalton.

“Kenny Salo,” said Ethan.
 
“You drunk?
 
It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“I ain’t taking no shit off you, Dalton.
 
This here don’t concern you.”

“I’m making it my concern,” said Ethan.

Kenny Salo started picking himself up, but considering his state, he didn’t do a very good job of it.
 
“Where the hell you been anyway?
 
I thought you moved to Canada or some such shit.”

“I didn’t go anywhere.
 
I’ve been living in your trunk for two years.”