Until the Harvest by Sarah Loudin Thomas Page B

wrecking his car.
    The road suddenly opened up into pasture on either side and Henry eased the car to a stop. He was panting, though why driving should wind him he didn’t know. Charlie held his injured leg and grimaced but didn’t speak.
    The purr of the idling motor seemed overloud to Henry, but he didn’t hear anything else. There was no sign of an approaching car, no flash of lights. He realized his hands were shaking, and he gripped the steering wheel so Charlie wouldn’t notice.
    “Reckon you outrun him,” Charlie said. “It was a doozy of a ride, but it shore did bang my leg around.”
    “Sorry about that. How mad is your pa gonna be about the scratches?”
    “Aw, maybe it ain’t too bad. We’ll look it over good once we get to Blanding.” He pointed at a dilapidated barn just up ahead among some overgrown trees. “And ain’t you the lucky one, anyway. You headed straight for the spot we needed to stop. Pull on up there and see if there ain’t a sack under that old drum behind the house.”
    Henry nodded and eased the car down the dirt track, stopping to check under the rusted drum. Sure enough, there was asack of something under there. He started to look inside, but Charlie hollered at him, and he decided he might be better off not knowing. When they finally eased back out onto pavement, Henry felt like a chicken in the middle of a wide open field with a hawk circling somewhere above.
    “What if that deputy’s up ahead?”
    “Guess you’ll have to outrun him again,” Charlie said.
    Henry didn’t ease his grip on the wheel until they pulled into the barn in Blanding where Jack Barnett stored the bootleg liquor he sold out the back door of a rundown dive. Jack himself walked over and knocked on Henry’s window with one knuckle. Henry rolled the window down.
    “I wasn’t sure you boys would make it through. I hear the sheriff’s been patrolling every road between here and Wise on the lookout for certain folks known to make questionable deliveries out here.”
    Charlie opened his door and pulled himself up so he could lean against the car while favoring his bad leg. “Henry, here, outran that fool deputy. Lost him on Prentice Road.”
    Jack whistled. “Guess this car is as tough as it looks.” He glanced at Henry. “And you must be a whole lot tougher than you look.”
    Henry shoved his door open, forcing Jack to step back, and then walked around the car and unlocked the trunk. Jugs of moonshine nestled there.
    “You want these? Or should I take ’em on back to Clint?”
    Jack laughed and slapped his leg. “Son, you take those back and your hide won’t be worth a plugged nickel.” He moved to the rear of the car and grabbed a jug in each hand. “Good show, though.”
    Henry started grabbing jugs and handing them off to Jack. All he wanted to do was get the car back to Clint and go home.
    “You boys got the other, ah, merchandise?” Jack asked.
    “You know it,” Charlie said, dragging the sack out of the backseat.
    Jack rubbed his hands together. “Now we’re talking. Hey, I’m headed over to the bar after this. First one’s on the house.”
    “Shoot fire, we ain’t going to pass that up,” Charlie said. “We aim to play a little, too.”
    Henry had no desire for a drink, but didn’t see a way out of it. And it might be better to let some time pass before heading back the direction they’d just come. “Sure, whatever,” he said.
    Jack slapped him on the back. “Try not to get too excited, son. Might even be some girls out there this evening.”
    Girls, thought Henry. Well now, that might not be a bad thing.

    Margaret put a plate of scrambled eggs with toast in front of her mother and added some coffee to the china cup she always used. Lenore made a face and nudged the plate away.
    “I don’t see how I could possibly eat anything this morning.” She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her forehead. Without opening her eyes she told Margaret to add some sugar to