Chapter 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.”
“So you’re still thinking there’s no way you and Bethie can go. Nothing recent that’s changed that decision.”
Dodge shook his head. “That door has closed. Looks like we’ll be here for the duration.
” He had attempted a positive tone but it came out accepting at best, and he hoped Uncle Jack didn’t think him ungrateful.
Eager to change the subject, he gave him a brief update on the cattle.
“So I’m sorry to say there’s been no improvement since you left. ”
“I figured as much.” Uncle Jack stroked his beard. “So while I was in Nashville, I took the opportunity to send a telegram to Washington, DC, asking for the powers that be to prioritize this. I warned them how quickly it’s spreading.”
“If anyone can get their attention, Uncle Jack, it’s you.”
“Well, we’ll see. Speaking of which, Mr. Prince will be giving the distillery his undivided attention this week. And my recent visit with him promises the man will be in rare form.”
Dodge laughed. “Is he ever in anything else?”
“Is the gauger’s book ready for inspection?”
“It is. I looked everything over yesterday and put it back in the safe.”
“Good man. I’m sure the inspection will go well. It always does. I—”
The cabin door opened. “Uncle Jack!”
“Hey there, sweet girl!” Uncle Jack called out as Bethie raced down the stairs to him. He gave her a quick hug then chucked her beneath the chin, much as he’d done Kathleen when she’d been that age.
“We’re going shooting, Uncle Jack!” She scrambled up to the wagon seat. “Want to go with us?”
“I’d better not today, Miss Bethie. Besides, I haven’t done much shooting lately. I’m afraid you’d show me up!”
Bethie beamed. “Mrs. Citified is going with us.” She lifted her nose in the air, pretending to be a hoity-toity lady.
Uncle Jack turned to Dodge for translation.
“Mrs. Dunham,” Dodge supplied and slid Bethie a look that said that was enough on that subject.
“Ah . . .” Uncle Jack nodded slowly. “And just how did that invitation come about? Mrs. Dunham doesn’t strike me as a woman who would be familiar with that subject.”
“Oh, she’s not, Uncle Jack,” Bethie said quickly. “She doesn’t know the first thing about shooting. That’s why I asked her to go.” Bethie glanced at Dodge as though to say she knew she was walking a fine line. “She’s a teacher, after all, so I figured I’d learn her some things.”
“Teach her some things,” Dodge corrected. “And remember what we talked about.”
“I know. I’ll be respectful.” But the mischief in Bethie’s eyes indicated that might be a struggle.
“Well, you three have a good time and don’t be surprised, Bethie, if Mrs. Dunham catches on faster than you think she will.
She’s a mighty smart—and surprising—woman.
” Uncle Jack looked pointedly at Dodge. “But I’m thinking we all know that by now,” he said beneath his breath and headed back toward the office.
Again Dodge sensed the man was hinting at something he should know, but didn’t.
Or worse, that Uncle Jack had somehow learned about what happened between him and Josephine in the office, and was discreetly chastising him for it.
Either way, the guilt already knifing him grew a double blade then did a full quarter turn.
Minutes later, as he guided the wagon up the street to the boarding house, the wedding ring burning a hole in his pants pocket, he hoped Josephine had changed her mind about going with them. Then he caught sight of her.
She was sweeping the front porch, and Miss Mary was seated in one of the rockers watching her.
Miss Mary leaned up and pointed toward an area Josephine had just swept, but apparently she’d missed something.
Without hesitation, Josephine quickly swept that part of the porch again, then glanced back to see Miss Mary nodding in her typical plain-dealing fashion.
“Whoa, mules.” He pulled back on the reins, and Josephine looked up.
She smiled and waved, and a futile thought flashed across his mind.
He wished he’d met her first, years back, before her husband, before she’d married, and that he could’ve taken her west with him, along with Kathleen and Bethie.
What a life they would have had together, the four of them.
Even if, knowing those three females, the West would have never been the same.