“How’s he doing?”
“Hanging on. Doc Perkins gave him a shot of morphine. But up to that point he was vocal. Very. Cursed the sons of bitches who had laid the trap, cussed his sorry-assed cousin who’d abandoned him.” Thatcher paused, then added, “Honestly, when we arrived, and there was nothing here, I thought Elray had been lying about all of it, even the stills.”
Elray’s memory of the stills’ location had been miraculously restored when Bill again threatened to turn him over to his great-uncle Hiram. Shortly thereafter, three sheriff’s department vehicles, one with Dr. Perkins as a ride-along, had set out from town with Elray giving directions. Because the night was so dark, he’d mistaken landmarks several times, and they’d had to double back in order to find turnoffs previously missed.
The various roads they traveled became progressively narrow and rutted, winding through hills that all looked the same to Thatcher. He had begun to suspect Elray of leading them on a wild-goose chase, when the kid had suddenly sat forward and pointed through the windshield.
“Over there. Behind them cedars.”
Tup Johnson had been found in the grave-like hole that Elray had described. He was still alive, but if he didn’t die of gangrene or sepsis, he would surely lose the limb, which was half-severed already, grotesquely dark and swollen, and had jagged broken bones protruding from it.
As Bill and his deputies had fanned out to investigate the scene, he asked Thatcher to remain with Tup and try to get from him as much information as he could. Apparently it had slipped the sheriff’s mind that Thatcher had declined to become a deputy. But none of this would be taking place if he had let Elray go. So, having only himself to blame for his involvement, he’d done as Bill requested.
“No, Elray wasn’t lying, Thatcher,” Bill said now. “There were stills here, all right. Two, just like the kid claimed. You ever seen one before?”
“Only pictures.”
“Those stacks of rocks are the fireboxes. Some of the charred wood is still smoldering.”
“Cookers sat on top?”
“Right. Scotty figured the flues were backed up to the cliff face there, an old trick to disperse the smoke, keep it from being easily spotted.”
“What about the man Elray and Tup saw working here?”
“Not a trace. All we know for sure was that he wasn’t a Johnson.”
“He had a partner,” Thatcher said, bringing Bill around to him. “Yeah. Tup says there were two of them, but he never got a glimpse of either. While he was writhing on the ground, they came up behind him and put a burlap sack over his head. He thought for sure they would put a bullet through it. But one held his good arm while the other released the trap.”
“No sign of it,” Bill said. “Retrieved to use another day, no doubt.”
“They lowered Tup into the pit. None too gently, he said. But they left him with a canteen of water and a full jar of moonshine. He admits that he yelled and screamed and cried for his mama. They ignored him and went about breaking camp. He managed to uncap the jar with one hand, drank all the whiskey, and eventually passed out.
“This morning when he came to, he knew they were gone. Dead silence, he said, except for the gurgling of the spring.”
“Moonshiners capable of assembling a still are just as capable of rapidly taking it apart and relocating.”
Thatcher smiled. “Not to a spot as good as this one. According to Tup, this is an ideal place.”
“He would know.”
Together, they watched deputies pick through a clump of dead brush to see what it might yield, but nobody cried Eureka.
Bill said, “Tup didn’t see them, but what about their voices?”
“Never spoke a word. Neither of them.”
“All night?”
“That’s what he said.”
/> “Huh. Moonshiners clever enough to keep their mouths shut.”
“I guess.”
“Anything else he remembers?”
Thatcher rubbed the back of his neck. “They were light-footed.” He got another questioning look from the sheriff. “I don’t know what to make of that, either, but Tup said they both had a light tread.”