Page 104 of In These Hills

Finally, with the help of his pocketknife, it flicked right out. And he couldn’t believe his eyes.

41

HE STUDIED THE THIN SILVER WEDDING BAND between his thumb and forefinger, feeling gut punched and realizing with no small disappointment that whatever details Josephine Dunham was holding back about her life, she’d been telling the truth about being married.

A sliver of sun managed to cut through the gray cloud cover and shone on the worn silver band, lending it a sparkle. Struggling with this discovery, weighing how to handle it, he started to put the ring in his pocket when he thought he noticed engraving on the inside of the band. He tilted it toward the light, and squinted, the words worn in places.

“Two are better than one,” he read softly, slowly turning the ring, and he again recalled Josephine’s response to Bethie’s question about leaving town. Yes, Josephine apparently was married and yes, her husband had apparently beaten her. That was beyond acceptable to anyone with morals. But maybe she’d somehow started missing him, however cruel he’d been. Maybe she’d chosen to forgive him and go back to him.

The mere thought soured his stomach.

He released a pent-up breath, the disappointment in him hardening into something akin to anger. He’d foolishly allowed himself to start caring for her in a way he never should have. And the liberties he’d taken . . . He’d acted wrongly toward her in so many ways.

Wishing Bethie had never invited her along today, he slipped the ring into the deep side pocket of his dungarees when he spotted Uncle Jack topping the hill. Uncle Jack waved and Dodge returned the gesture, shoving down the roil of emotion inside him.

“Welcome home, Uncle Jack! How was your trip? Or should I say . . . your visit?”

“It was good. Good to go. Good to come back.” Uncle Jack approached the wagon and reached up to the bench to give Jessie a rub. “Good thinking time on the train, too. Something about those rails passing so quick-like beneath you, the blur of the countryside . . . reminds a man of just how quickly time is passing.”

Dodge watched him, then managed a smile. “Wait a minute . . . Don’t tell me this visit with whoever it was finally brought you around to the idea of marriage.”

Uncle Jack chuckled. “I do enjoy a lady’s fine company, but marriage? That’s a bit like buying the orchard when you really just want a bite of fruit every now and then.”

Dodge shook his head. “You and your sayings about women.”

“I’ve just never met one I’ve wanted to marry. Leastwise . . . one that was available.”

Dodge eyed him, a stab of guilt prodding his conscience. The statement was a little too close to home. He forced a laugh. “Now that sounds like a dog that’ll hunt.”

A smile ghosted Uncle Jack’s expression, then his features turned somber. “What if I were to tell you I was thinking of stepping back from running the distillery. Give it to my nephews Lem and Dick. What would you say?”

Dodge stared. “That you’d been tasting a bit too much of the product lately.”

They both laughed, but Uncle Jack held his gaze.

“You’re serious,” Dodge said softly.

“I’m just thinking about it. I’m getting older, Dodge. I’ve done this near my whole life. Close on to fifty years if you go back to when I first went to live with Dan and Mary Jane Call, and got my first up close lesson about running a still.” His expression turned reminiscent. “I stopped going to school early on, but that Miss Mary Jane, she made sure I got my education. She was persistent on that, and I’m grateful for it. Those were good times . . . Living with them, being with Nearest and his family. Nearest and Dan were good men, both of them. First time I ever felt like I really belonged somewhere. Or leastwise, was wanted.”

Dodge knew about Uncle Jack’s early life, about his mother dying not long after he was born, and his father remarrying. But it was Uncle Nearest who had really put flesh on the bones of Jack’s early days, who had told him about how Jack and his stepmother hadn’t gotten on, and how Jack—the youngest of ten children and always the smallest—had finally left home at the age of six.

“Those two men taught me far more about life than they even did about making whiskey,” Uncle Jack continued. “But they certainly did that, too. I wouldn’t be who I am today, nor would I have what I have without them.” He gave a quick shake of his head as if to shrug off the memories. “The distillery is growing fast, Dodge. After all, we got the best whiskey around.” He winked. “And I’ve got more money than I’ll ever need. I’m not saying the time is right for me to step back at present, but I do think it’s coming. And I just wanted you to know.”

“I appreciate that, but . . .” Dodge still couldn’t wrap his mind around the prospect of Jack Daniel not being at the helm. “You’ve said this to me before, but I say it back with far more weight . . . This place will not be the same without you.”

“Just because I’m stepping back doesn’t mean I’m thinking of dying anytime soon.”

Dodge laughed along with him.

“I plan on being here for years to come, so I’ll be around. Who knows, they still might let me do some tasting every now and then. But what about you, son? What are your plans?”

“What do you mean?”

Something about the way Uncle Jack watched him caused him to think the man knew something he didn’t.

“What about your land out west? Got a buyer yet?”

“No. But it’ll come. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.”