Page 116 of In These Hills

“And there we are.” Dodge shook his head, but Josephine caught the hint of a smile, from both him and Mr. Daniel.

“Hezekiah?” she asked.

Nodding, Dodge exhaled through his teeth. “You know, from the Old Testament. My mother, God rest her, loved the story about how he constructed that tunnel to move water through the bedrock beneath the City of David.” He shrugged. “Is it any wonder I welcomed the nickname?”

They all shared a laugh until Mr. Daniel opened the ledger and began perusing the columns, then the conversation turned to Mr. Prince’s inspection, along with the cattle and Texas fever, and Josephine moved to a side table and continued where she’d left off with correspondence the previous afternoon. But anxiety over her plans made it difficult to concentrate.

Her gaze kept returning to the gauger’s book. Changing even one entry so that the amount of barrels filled on any particular day didn’t match the number of barrels stamped with that same date in the warehouse would be a minor error. But if she changed several that might be a significant enough error for a revenuer to halt production of whiskey. For a week? A month? That remained to be seen.

Her chest ached with the weight of it all, but one thought of Calla and her resolve strengthened.

Rapid footsteps sounded on the porch. The front door burst open. “Mr. Coburn! There you are! We got us a problem in the stillhouse, sir!”

Josephine recognized the young man as a new worker. He’d had his first payday a week ago.

“What kind of problem?” Dodge asked.

“It’s a hissing sound. Like a break in a pipe! Like something’s about to blow!”

Dodge was already out the door in the time it took Mr. Daniel to gain his footing.

“Go on, I’m coming!” Mr. Daniel yelled.

Dodge called back, “No need for you to—”

“A hurt foot might slow me down, but it’s not going to stop me! I’m right behind you.”

As Dodge and the young man took off, Mr. Daniel grabbed his hat and had barely gained the porch when a woman hurried up the steps.

“Oh, begging your pardon, Uncle Jack. I didn’t mean to nearly waylay you, sir.”

“No harm done, Mrs. Watson. We have us a bit of an emergency, so if there’s something you need, I’ll be back directly.”

“Oh no, sir, I was just . . .”

The woman peered past him, her gaze nervous, almost paranoid, and made eye contact with Josephine, who intuitively knew why she was here.

“Mrs. Watson!” Josephine crossed to the door, never having seen the woman before. “How kind of you to stop by. Please come in, and we can visit for a moment.”

Mr. Daniel tipped his hat and made arduous progress in the direction of the stillhouse.

Josephine closed the door behind them, glancing at the gauger’s book, knowing time was limited. “Mrs. Watson, how are you this morning?”

“I’m mostly fine, I guess, Mrs. Dunham.”

No longer surprised when people she hadn’t met knew her name, she invited the woman to sit. No bruises on the young woman’s face that she could see, but she had a timidity about her, an undercurrent of trepidation that she recognized.

“Oh no, ma’am. I don’t aim to fill up your time. I’m just wondering if—” She briefly bowed her head. “I hate to be asking this and got no right to it, you not even knowing me, but—”

“Do you need food, Mrs. Watson? For you and your children?”

Shame filled her eyes. “Clara Hackett done told me I could come to you for help,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I had any other way of filling the mouths of my younguns.”

“I’m so glad you did come. If you’ll wait here, I have a box of food in the back.” Having decided to keep some supplies on hand on a lower, out-of-the-way shelf in the storage room, Josephine found an empty box and filled it. She’d bought enough food and other staple items to make another two boxes, hoping Mrs. Carver would send others.

Between what she’d paid Miss Mary, the money she’d set aside to send to Sarah, and the purchases at the mercantile, she’d spent most of her earnings so far. But today was Wednesday. Payday.

She carried the box to the front. “If you know of anyone who needs food, please send them to me. Discreetly, of course. And I’ll help as much as I can.”