Smart and Gifted: Silas Tucker Book 1 by Bob Johnson

Quail’s Creek Hollow, West Virginia-1923

“Silas, Silas Tucker, you better get yer butt up to the house right now. I’m danged tired of shouting fer ya every time I turn around. Get up here and start splitting those logs, now!” came the shrill demand, as always, from Ma.

I liked the refuge where I sat. It was my getaway from everything, even if it was just down in a little hollow that was a hop, step and a jump away from the house. I had found a nice protected spot walled in on three sides by a big old red maple stump. It was a perfect spot for me to drag out a sharpened pencil to write down things. I took out my little note book, a present that I received from my teacher. It displayed a pink flamingo picture on the front. I sure would like to see one for real. Strange looking bird. I been thinking about my miserable life and scribbled those thoughts down as best I could.

My gosh, another ruined writing time, and I was planning on being right here for a spell. And just when I was gonna write about the butterfly that keeps flitting around my head, probably wondering what I’m a doing in his territory. Ugh!

They called me gangly and skinny. I were a full fourteen-year-old but my untamed haystack of hair and my usual unkept look gave the idea of me being wild. I groaned and pushed myself up from the nest. I done tucked my trusty pencil and note book into the ripped back pocket of these worn-out pants, sighed and headed up the steep embankment. It took just minutes before I heard the obnoxious noise coming from my sister’s mouths, all five of them, hollering, complaining, crying, or just plain arguing.

Luckily, I had been the first born, and I figured my folks kept trying to have another boy somewhere along the line. Instead, the place was infested with girls. There was Eva Jo, Ruby Jane, Lilah, Lurlene, and the baby Waynelle. I hoped mightily the two were done thinking stupidly that maybe I might need a brother. I had listened to a baby squalling and crying and smelling stinking diapers my whole entire life. I just shook my head in disgust.

I slowly approached the ramshackle home, one that barely stood on its pins, and grabbed the axe off the outside wall. Normaleen Tucker, my ma, with little Waynelle slung on her hip, started in on me, again.

She was wearing the only sack dress she owned, or at least the only one she ever had on, a worn out yellow colored thing. It did a good job of covering her thin body. A good wind could have blown her away. Her brown hair, some of it in what I called a bun, looked like a bird’s nest. The hard life had put deep lines in her overly tanned face. Smiles came few and far between across her face. I really, down deep, felt sorry that she was caught up in this life of misery. Seemed to my way of thinking, that with every new baby she kept getting more and more beat down. A great sadness.

“You get that firewood brought up before your Pa gets home from work, or you’ll really be getting a jawing to.” She chipped at him.

I didn’t even acknowledge her but headed down to the wood pile.

Home from work, right, I thought. Moonshining was the only thing my Pa had ever done.

“He ain’t made a lick of money from that thing, and drinks down any profit that could have been there.” I mumbled to myself.

I tried to tightened the old twine I had fashioned as a belt, and reminded myself, again, to be careful since I had nothing to protect those feet at the end of my legs. I kind wondered what real shoes felt like. I mostly wore some leather socks fashioned by ma. Deer skin came in handy. I took a gander down at my pants. They fit just fine about two years ago, but were riding up my shin bones now. I grimaced at my tattered clothes, then grabbed the axe, a pine log, and started chopping.

I scribbled thoughts, at times, about my Pa coming home almost every night plastered to the gills, carrying on about the way things were so tough, and talking big about making a big sale to a buyer in some town in some county nearby. It never happened.

Bodhi Tucker was also a mean drunk who would slap around his wife if he felt like it, blaming her for whatever he could think of. Even broke a couple of her ribs, gave her black eyes, and poured boiled water on her hand because he didn’t like some food she prepared. And he didn’t stop at just Ma. Most all us kids received some kind of negative treatment. I felt the sting of the switch a lot of times, but learned not to yell out but to just stare the man down.

The main problem that nobody talked about, was how he was coming around to Eva Jo now and then, making her nervous and confused. Ma knew, I was sure, but nothing was said. I, just for my best mental being, wrote things down about that, too.

I just gotta do something to help out Eva Jo, but darned if I know what. If Ma ain’t gonna do nothin I guess it’s up to me. I want to say something to sissy but I don’t think she knows what is ahappenin. Good thing I was awake when he come moseying next to Eva Jo’s bed buck naked. He hightailed it when I asked him what he wanted. It ain’t never right, that sort of thing. I plan things in my head. Maybe I should club Pa over the head with a piece of log while he’s a passed out. Maybe shoot him with my squirrel gun and claim it was an accident. But I gotta do something.

I certainly wished that nice Miss Hayden hadn’t moved away. I liked her as a teacher and the teachings she laid out for all us kids. The sixth grade was as far as I got but Miss Hayden was giving me eighth grade school work to do since she said I was smart and gifted. Really did like that. Smart and gifted. But that was the end of education in these parts as she got a better job in next county. Most folks never went for schooling to learn anything. Lot of them couldn’t even read or write.

I continued to lay the pencil to the paper.

Learning things is the most important part of living around here. Getting ahead ain’t possible when everything stays the same and nobody cares to improve their lot in life. I spose I’ll be up to me to teach the little ones, otherwise there ain’t no one to do so. Ma never schooled and neither did Pa. Anyway, I’m running out of thoughts so I guess I’m close to being done here.

So, I am stuck here in the forgotten hills of West Virginny.  Just heard from some people passing through we got a new president of the United States. Fellow by the name of Coolidge. Those folks telling, didn’t think much of him and were sad to the fact that Warren Harding passed before he could really get things going. The real good news they brought to the area was that the Prohibition Act were still being upheld. Shiners liked to hear things like that. Those who imbibed came from miles around and laid their money down to get fine moonshine made in these here parts.

Them visitors came chugging to our parts in one of those new-fangled horseless carriages, automobiles they was called, one of the first seen in these parts. Folks here got no money for such things but it was quite a spectacle for everyone to inspect. “Way of the future, was what the owner said, but you need some good roads.”

Well, I wasn’t afraid of my folks finding my writings because to them it was just chicken scratch. I decided, though, if I came up with a plan to cause my pa grievous harm, I be better off leaving it to myself, and not write any of that down in my notes.  I, for danged sure, had to stay away from any incrimination, a fancy word I learned. I liked the way those big words rolled off my tongue and often sat and wrote the words out several times just to get the feel of it. Yep, smart and gifted, that I was.

That night Pa came home reasonably sober and excited about something.  It turned out that Rebel and Sonny Brown had stopped by his still. They sat and talked awhile and did a little sipping, as Pa told it. They were impressed with his shine and were willing to buy a mighty supply.

“That gonna bring us a whole lot of money, Ma. I gotta get working on the next batch right away. I think that nineteen hundred and twenty-three will be the best year yet, yes sir!” Pa said and punched the air.

Normaleen pleaded with her husband, “You know darned well you don’t want to get hooked up with that bunch of murdering thieves. With them two boys and their old man, Jacob, they caused more trouble than any other family in all the mountain hollers. They just ain’t no good.”

“Ma, don’t matter none where the old money come from, do it? It still spends. Tarnation woman, I’d bet you’d like to get out of that plain old sack dress and get a brand new one wouldn’t ya?” Bodhi Tucker pushed his big plans in his usual manner.

“Anyways, I’ll take Silas tomorrow and we’ll get started on the batch. Eva Jo, come on over her and take your poor Daddy’s boots off, will you sweet pie?” her pa suggested as he turned and eyed his oldest daughter.

I was uncomfortable as all get out, as I watched as Eva Jo kneel down in front of her father to untie his old rotted leather boots. I watched, mighty troubled, as he grabbed her head and moved it toward his crotch. I quickly jumped up and moved over to the two.

“Here, let me pick that tight knot you got in that lace.” I said as he shoved his sister out of the way and began working the boots until they were off.

I purposely did not look up at all, for fear I would see a seething look from the old man. I just finished the order of business, got up, and walked outside. I swore that I had to do something, and soon.

The next morning me and pa headed down to the still, one that had been tended for as long as my memory worked.

“Them boys said they wanted three full cases of my specialty, so we gotta get going on that mash. We need a ton more apples from the old orchard. I’ma headed to Willards Market and get me some more sugar. We got everything else, so get you movin.” Bodhi ordered.

I worked steadily throughout the day when my soused pa finally showed up late afternoon.

“Old Willard gave me a little credit, seeing how I is about to do a big sale. Even bought some penny candy for the youngins.” He said proudly.

And that was that. Typical, I thought. Nothing, as usual, for a son who was doing all the work.

“Looks about ready to fire up the cooker so you head on home now and tell your ma not to wait supper fer me cause your soon to be rich pappy be tendin this batch through the night.” My father said and pulled out a big bottle of fancy whiskey from a packsack, along with a chunk of meat big enough to choke a horse.

I truly hadn’t seen that much meat on the table since I shot a two point buck the year before.

“Go on now, this here’s gonna get me through the night.” Bodhi said and pointed to the meat and the bottle.

My old man didn’t offer a slice of the meat to share, but shoved it into his own mouth.

“That mean old selfish bastard.” I mumbled all the while surprising myself that he used a cussing word.

My brain was working fulltime and I knew what I was going to do. It was coming together.

Walking home I stopped by Widow Ham’s place. I had done odd jobs for her ever since her husband had passed away some time before. She once told me she had tried to keep the corn patch going, but the rats and varmints were too much for her.

“Ms. Ham,” I shouted as he neared the shack.

“Well land sakes, ain’t seen you in a coons age, young Mr. Tucker. How you be?” the pleasantly plump and smiling woman said.

“Would you like to come on in and have some sweet tea and jaw for a while?” she asked.

“Thanks, that sounds might temptin, but I’m a bit short of time. Lots going on and I been keepin busy, but thought I’d check on you and all.” I said apologetically.

I pointed out toward the back yard, “I noticed the storage shed door is off its hinges. Thought I might put a nail or two in her so it don’t fly away with the next wind.”

“Well, mighty thoughtful. Things just ain’t been the same since old Hiram passed, land sakes, almost three years ago. Don’t have no change to pay ya ifn that’s alright,” the old lady said apologetically,” but I got a jar of preserves you can take home for your mama.”

“No problem at all. I’ll just take care of it and be on my way. Good to be talkin with you. I is sure we’ll enjoy the preserves, too.” I said and walked to the back of the house toward her dilapidated storage shed.

I sat outside the house, contemplating, after our dinner of some bread sprinkled with sugar, carrots and radishes from the garden plot off away from the house. We protected the patch as best as we could with pieces of wire and fence that had been scavenged from the area. Our meal even included a bit of milk that came from the social government people. They stopped every so often with a box of groceries. Ma hid that parcel from Pa because he said he didn’t need any handouts from the do-gooders.

I grabbed my trusty pink bird notebook to do some more writing. After the meal I grabbed a kerosene lamp and brought it over to a corner of the house, as twilight was giving way to darkness. I gave my pencil a couple of swipes with my trusty pocket knife and began composing.

I wonder if everyone else in the holler puts up with this life the way we do. Just gettin by and acceptin their fate. This whole countryside is a sad situation. Why did I have to end up being put here on the side of this godforsaken mountainside. Folks around here just awaitin to die, I guess, like old Hiram Ham did. I’m not going to be a part of this. I got plans.

I sat and watched the last bit of light leave the countryside. The curtain was dropping so the night stars could come out. They were always spectacular and I surely loved laying out and dreaming as I scanned the sky. Most of my wild thoughts were of me escaping this life and maybe sailing on the oceans or being a fancy dan in some big town. The dreams were nearly always of my existence somewhere other than here.

The next day I awoke, sleep still in my eyes, and watched with curiosity and astonishment as Eva Jo was just finishing wrapping up all of her worldly possessions. She began to tie them up nice and neat in an old travel bag. Ma said was sending Eva Jo to stay with a cousin for a while. I could see fear but resolve in my sister’s eyes, and a look of determination in Ma’s face he hadn’t seen before. Nobody had ever left the place before, for any period of time.

“When she comin back?” I asked ma.

She looked off into the woods and quietly said, “When it’s safe, I reckon.”

That was the end of what had been going on and the beginning of Eva Jo’s new life. Ma knew it and I, her big brother, knew it, too. Words were just unsaid. We watched as my oldest sister trudged off into the woods, swinging her case and singing a church song.

I noticed ma tear up a bit and whispered,” Well that’s that, now we got chores needin done.”

She turned around and went into the house.

I reluctantly set off to the still the next morning. It was not of big surprise to see my pa, splayed out against a little aspen, snoring loudly. His hand was still wrapped around a mostly empty bottle of liquor he finagled from Willard. I took a bit of courage but I shook him as roughly as I dare, gave him a not so gentle kick in the side, then waited around until he was ready to get moving. It wasn’t the first time I had a requirement to do just that. But I enjoyed it.

The two of us never seemed to connect in a loving, or even caring, manner. I felt like I was always his slave who needed to do this or that, mostly so he wouldn’t have to. Handshakes or hugs between us had never happened. He loved his moonshine, and harassing his family, period!

I stared at my pa laid out there. The man was thin, without much muscle, sported a straggly unkept beard that covered up burn scars from when he tried to put out a fire at the still several years back. He wore the same long sleeved blue cotton shirt he always did and the dirtiest undershirt in the county. His patched filthy khaki pants were so dirty they could have stood on their own. His beat-up straw hat was nearby. I knew that Pa washed up at least one night a month and only when ma got after him.

“Bodhi Tucker, you get down to Quail’s Creek and take some soap with ya. Time ya needs to get that top layer of stink off that scrawny body else ya be sleeping on the porch the rest of your days. Ya understands what I is sayin?” she would announce.

“Even the skunks hightail it when you come round.” Ma continued.

He always seemed to comply. Folks are funny, I thought. Pa didn’t even argue when ma used those words.

Pa and me, we worked hard, or it could be said that I worked hard, and pa just sat testing the new clear white lightning batch.

Suddenly we both heard a rustling of the brush behind us. The Brown brothers, both toting long rifles showed up, or more to the truth, snuck up on us moonshiners. 

They are really rotten, mean looking men, I thought.

“Howdy boys.” Bodhi said in a guarded but genuine greeting.

“You got anything for us yet.” questioned Rebel the bigger, uglier brother.

He wore bib overalls and most likely nothing underneath them. The look gave everyone a chance to see his big muscles. He showed a long red scar down the side of his face. Folks said he got cut in a knife fight with his younger brother. I could believe it. A full dark beard and long hair held by a bandana gave him a certain look. I wondered if he checked myself out in a looking glass and just scowled and snarled until he got it just right.

“Workin the batch right now, whole bunch be ready tomorry.” My pa said and grinned his mostly toothless smile.

“Well, we been talkin up your tasty stuff to Daddy, and sadly enough he all but run out of his personal supply. We was wonderin if you have any drink left from what we sampled that we could give him. He would surely appreciate a friendly gesture like that. Might even up the buying price some.” Rebel continued.

“You bet, rest a spell and I’ll round up a fruit jar full for your pa.” my pa said, happily relieved of the request being so simple.

“Silas, go on now and get that special jarful for these fine men’s daddy, ya hear.” He ordered, “and wrap it up tight so it don’t get busted if it be jostled.”

I took my time filling up a quart jar, put a lid down on it and wrapped it in some cardboard paper.

“Boy, get a move on, we ain’t got all day.” shouted one of the Brown boys.

I took the trusty pencil carried in my back pocket at all times, and wrote on the side of the labeled jar.

Gift to Mr. Jacob Brown from his friend Bodhi Tucker. Enjoy

Rebel Brown snatched the jug roughly from my hands, looked at the pencil scratching, growled, and stomped away.

“We’ll be back this time tomorry for the rest. Have it ready now, Bodhi, ya hear?” came the final snarl from Sonny, the brother with the wild eye, a lopsided grin, and a look of crazy all about him.

Me and pa stood quietly for a moment.

“Silas, you get those jars ready cause we gonna stay here and finish this job tonight.” My pa said relieved that the two Brown boys had moved away from the cooking camp.

“No needs fer ya to be around when those boys comes to trade my goods fer some fine Yankee money.” Bodhi ordered.

“I probably don’t want to be around. Them boys are mighty scary.” I said quickly agreeing.

“Ah, all talk. They ain’t nothing.” Pa said as he gave a dismissive wave with a hand.

“Now, let’s get on to workin.  And bring over that jug I left by that tree. Might just as well have a short snort of that store bought whiskey whiles I get on with things.” He ordered, and pointed to the almost empty bottle he had slept beside the night before.

That evening the goings on at home were not pleasant. Pa was really upset that Eva Jo took off and he hadn’t known anything about it. He began tossing things and banging on tables and walls. Ma stood her ground and told Pa that his daughter needed to be around girls her age for a while as there was a lot that only girls talk about. Private stuff.

“And that be that, Bodhi Tucker. Now ya want any supper or do you just want to keep playing out that stupid snit?” Ma said.

Later on, Pa got pretty drunk on his own moonshine, and started into a tirade about not knowing about happenings that goes on in his own home. He slapped ma a couple of times, probably because she was the one nearby. Of course, all the little ones got scared and kept yowling the entire time. It was chaos. At that moment, like many other moments in my life, I really did hate that man.

The next morning, Pa hightailed it down to the still with plans on his brain as to how to spend the money coming his way, I was sure.

 But my pa, the miserable Bodhi Tucker, never came home that night, or the next, or the next.

Ma figured he got his pay and took off somewhere to find a younger woman or fill up on fancy liquor.

Well, it turns out it that wasn’t the case.

Word travels fast in the hollows. Fast like a wild fire.

Word was the Brown brothers were looking for my pa. And they had blood in their eyes. Their daddy Jacob Brown passed away suddenly and old Doc Devers figured it was arsenic poisoning from something he ingested. The family narrowed it down to that quart of shine that pa had given to him, with an inscription on the jar that said just that.

A week later some kids hunting squirrels found pa’s body down at the bottom of a steep ravine. It was pretty beat up and recognition was difficult.

The sheriff from way out of Grant County never did figure who killed him. He didn’t spend much time looking neither. I came to find out that the sheriff knew pa from way back when he was younger. The lawman claimed he arrested Bodhi Tucker more times that he could count. Aside, he told folks he wasn’t going to waste a lot of time on the crime. He asked around but none of the folks in the hollers were talking.

I spent the next year or so trying to figure out the moonshining business. According to the other locals I wasn’t getting the mix right, and even if I did, most buyers already got their usual producers all lined up. I had to build up a reputation, they said. I ended up selling the whole setup to Moe Harkins. Made a little money but not much.

If it wasn’t for the county welfare and neighbors, things would have been desperate. I was the almost sixteen-year-old man of the house but didn’t want that job. A few bachelor men came round sniffing at ma, and I ended up butting heads with those I didn’t feel were there for an honest visit. Ma even got after me for not minding my own business. Finally, some good came along. His name was Sam Simmons.

“Ma, I’m headed out on my own. This Sam fella seems to be genuinely able to give you some assistance in the living and food on the table part of the family life. I just think it’d be better if I did some searching out of this place. You okay with that.” I asked just to be polite.

“Silas, I ain’t never wanted to hold you back. We can manage alright, sides you’ll probably land on your feet nearby. Let me know where in case you is needed.” She smiled and reached out to tousle my hair.

Well, I got a job at the Claymore County newspaper, The Daily Trumpeter here in Wilkes. Quite a fancy name even though we send out the news just two days a week. The editor was impressed with my skills and put me on to write about happenings around town. Nothing spectacular but I am making enough money to rent a back room at a boardinghouse. Meals are included. And I get all the writing pencils I need from the shop.

Learning the workings of the printing process was pretty easy. It is really just what is known as a letter press. Paper size is about one and one-half wide and about two feet long. We cram six columns on the two and sometimes three sheets of the newspaper that goes out. A sizeable amount of information can be put in any edition. Just ink it, set the type and get the fly wheel moving, then sit back and wait for the news.

Another big thing was to learn that the way we talked around these parts was not the way the newspaper put in words. Like, ain’t was always isn’t, and atalkin printed up as talking, and all. My boss said that proper English was to be used at all times. I sure got a ton of learnin to do.

“If you want a first-class newspaper, then the language has to be first class. Lot of readers from outside our area. We have to show them we aren’t a backwater community,”

Eva Jo is staying on with our cousin and is happy as a pig in slop. Ma is still being courted by Samuel S. Simmons, an old bachelor of means and I kind of think a wedding is not too far off into the future. Glad I gave those two the space to do some right serious courtin. She even smiles now and then when I visit. I admit the get-togethers have been few and far between but this place keeps me busy.

I never heard her mention pa’s name once, since his demise.

Yesterday I started out on a walk to visit ma and veered off in the direction of Widow Ham. Long old hilly journey took a couple hours, but new shoes covering my feet made the trip a little easier. I kinda was just making sure that her returned box of arsenic rat poison was still in the same place I laid it. I might almost feel guilt, but that hasn’t happened yet. Maybe that comes later for someone who is smart and gifted.