The Darling Dahlias and the Silver Dollar Bush

“I’ll do it, Beulah,” Bessie said. “I’ve been a little worried about the way it’s thinning out on top.”


“Food, oh, my, yes.” Aunt Hetty nodded emphatically. “There was more food than you could shake a stick at! Rider’s daddy roasted a pig and there was baked turkey and fried chicken and potato salad and so many cakes and pies you couldn’t count them. Rider would have been proud to see so much food laid out and his friends all dressed up in their Sunday best. And of course, Mickey and Tom-Boy were there. They set a few jugs on a bench out behind the barn, so the men who wanted could have that last swig of moonshine. It’ll be a while before Mickey makes any more.”

“Mickey and Tom-Boy!” Bettina stopped in midsnip. “I thought they were in jail!”

“They were,” Earlynne said. “But they got out on Friday night, just for the funeral.”

Bettina’s mouth fell open. “You mean, they escaped? There was a jailbreak?”

“Well, sort of.” Earlynne laughed. “Actually, it was Deputy Buddy Norris’ idea. He knew they wanted to go to that funeral in the worst way, and Judge McHenry had already told them they couldn’t. So he let them tie him up to a chair there in the jail and stuff a gag in his mouth, which is where the sheriff found him—after Mickey and Tom-Boy called in a tip to the Telephone Exchange a couple of hours later.”

“And then,” Aunt Hetty continued the story, “when the funeral and the burying and the eating were all over and done with and everybody went home, Rider’s daddy drove Mickey and Tom-Boy to the jail and they went in and locked themselves back in their cells. That’s where they are now, waiting for the circuit judge to come and hear their case. They’ll get two years, likely, but they’ll be out in ten months, is what I heard. The state doesn’t like to buy groceries for moonshiners.” She laughed a little. “And then they’ll go back to making moonshine, most likely.”

“Not if Agent Kinnard has anything to say about it,” Alice Ann said. “He was in the diner, talking to Mr. Musgrove. Myra May overheard him say that when Mickey got out, he—Agent Kinnard, that is—was going to hound him to the end of his days. He means to make sure there’s gonna be no more moonshine.”

“Speaking of Mr. Musgrove,” Bessie said, “I heard that he figured out who bought that red barn paint that ended up all over the Johnsons’ front porch. And that Artis Hart at the Peerless Laundry took in four white sheets with mud all over them. Sheriff Burns has the list of names. He told Mr. Musgrove he thought he’d have them repaint the porch and scrub the walk and fix up Mrs. Johnson’s garden.”

“That ought to teach them,” Bettina said with satisfaction.

“Well, if I was Agent Kinnard, I would watch out for myself,” Aunt Hetty said. “There are plenty in Darling who think Mickey hung the moon, so to speak. They’re counting the days until he’s back in business.”

Blowing on her bright red nails, Earlynne said, “I didn’t go to Rider’s funeral because I don’t know the LeDoux family, but Mr. Johnson was a deacon in the Methodist church where I go, so I went to his funeral.” She rolled her eyes. “It was so solemn and just lovely. There were banks of flowers all over the place, and the choir wore their white robes and sang ‘Shall We Gather at the River’ with Mrs. LeVaughn at the piano and Mary Lea Gerard singing the high soprano part. Voleen Johnson made such a beautiful widow, dressed in a new black suit and a gorgeous black hat with a black veil that she got in Mobile, I am sorry to say, Fannie.” She nodded apologetically at Fannie Champaign. “I’m sure you would have made an even more beautiful one for her, dear. But you know Voleen. She’s got to get her hats in the big city.”

“Everybody’s going to miss Mr. Johnson,” Beulah said sadly. Then she cheered up. “But I think it’s just wonderful that Mrs. Johnson and Miss Tallulah LaBelle are going to be partners in the bank. Have you heard that?”