Jon Reskind - The abducted wife

"I-I don't understand. What do you want me to do?" she said half-heartedly.

"You just watch me for awhile," Buck said and pointed to the buckets. "You'll pick it up real quick."

Within a few minutes she was busy beside Buck at the sink, rinsing out bottles in hot water, then drying them and setting them on the table. She felt somewhat relieved by the monotonous activity and she put herself into the work completely, trying to forget where she was and whom she was with. Yet a constant nagging at the back of her consciousness made her increasingly uncomfortable as she thought of the coming night, and she began to think of escape. Buck would leave the room from time to time, and she saw several chances where it might have been possible to leap out the back window. A new fear added to her worries as she realized that her husband, Bob, was probably searching for her and she was afraid that he would come on the shack unaware; the men, who were armed, would certainly revert to violence if he appeared and she knew it would be best if she could get to him before he arrived.

Buck appeared with another batch of bottles. After setting them down, he looked at Jane bent over the sink and handed her a slice of ham between two pieces of bread. Jane turned to thank him, but the gruff look on his face seemed to preclude that, and she began to eat hurriedly without any comment.

"You like a cigarette?" he said afterwards and withdrew a pack from his shirt pocket.

Jane nodded her head and the stocky blonde man handed her a cigarette and lit hers and then his own. He was tired. Sweat ran down his face and dampened his work shirt over his chest and for the first time she saw him as a human being and not another backwoods criminal. She felt an odd sense of compassion for him that she couldn't quite explain to herself. Perhaps it was the fact that he was young and ignorant, and had been forced into his way of life by economic and social circumstances beyond his control. He had been kind to her during the last hour, and she knew that she needed at least one of these men to stand behind her when it came time for them to decide when she should be released.

"It's damn hot in here," Buck said, fanning himself. "Let's you and me sit out on the stoop for awhile."

It was hot. She enjoyed slipping out of the confines of the back room even for a moment as this gave her an opportunity to survey the terrain and decide her chances for escape. It would be difficult for her to maneuver, she knew; the stand of trees around the buildings were a good hundred yards off, and the men would have to be diverted from her before she could even consider making an attempt. Buck leaned down and lit another cigarette.

"It's very peaceful," she offered, trying to make pleasant conversation. "It must be lovely living out here away from the city."

Buck snorted, then looked at her quizzically. "I ain't never lived in the city. Ain't never thought about it, as a matter of fact."

His face changed expression for a moment, as though Jane's question had brought a reality to mind that he had thought about but rejected for some reason a long time ago. Then he stood up and said, "We send this stuff to the city. Big money in the syndicate. Not that ya know anything about that."

Jane laughed nervously and stubbed her cigarette out on the ground next to the stoop. Smoke rose from the brick chimney of the stone building in front of them, and beyond lazy summer clouds piled up over blue-green mountains. Yes, it was idyllic here, Jane thought to herself; with her husband here, in a completely different situation, she could see how she might be able to completely relax, but now, with Buck pacing anxiously in the yard in front of her, she was unable to release her mind from the immediate task of running away for even one instant. The other men were off somewhere and she felt relieved that she wasn't working with Silas whom she feared most of all three men. With his open-hanging mouth and bulging eyes, he was the most repulsive looking creature she had ever encountered and just remembering the crude interest he had already expressed in her body sent shivers of repugnance down her spine.

"What ya thinkin' about?" Buck said harshly. He was standing in the sunlight with a bottle in his hand, and suddenly Jane realized he was drinking again. "I don't want ya gettin' crazy ideas while them others is gone."

"I was just wondering how long it will be before they pick up your liquor," she said, looking across at him. "My husband must be worrying."

"Josh's the boss," Buck shrugged, drawing the bottle to his lips. "They'll probably come in a day or two, and he'll tell ya how soon ya can leave."

Jane turned on the stoop and looked with mounting tension back into the house. The rooms were empty. She gazed back across the muddied space and watched Buck, who stood with his head cocked and his eyes clouded with liquor, and then the thought came to her as she realized all that could happen to her alone with those men for several days: yes, she must make an escape. She would get him drunk; she would drink a little along with him until he was completely inebriated and then she would make her escape. But it would have to be quick since there was no telling how long Josh and Silas would be out of the house.

"Yes, I would like something to drink," she responded. "I'm quite thirsty."

Buck slid up on the back stairs to the shack beside her. "I see I ain't got no glass for ya. Ya better just sip it outta the bottle."

He wiped off the lip on his shirt and handed the bottle to Jane. "It ain't bad moonshine when ya figure we make it all out here," he remarked. "Downright good-tasting when ya drink the crap them boys is makin' on the other side of them hills."

Buck pointed off to the mountains but Jane was looking to a high bluff to the right of the cabin. She could see a wisp of smoke rising behind the hill and she supposed that was where Silas and Josh had gone earlier. It was a very large operation that she had imagined: the amount of bottles they had scalded testified to that, and the syndicate that Buck had mentioned pointed to the fact that much of the illegal liquor was being exported to the larger towns and cities in the area.

"Ain't ya gonna drink it?" Buck said anxiously. "Goddamn, it ain't gonna kill ya."

She raised the bottle to her lips, letting her mouth get accustomed to the metallic taste of the liquor. The whisky slid down her throat smoothly at first, then she felt a burning sensation as it struck her stomach and the aftertaste caught in her throat.

"God, it-it's s-strong," she coughed and leaned away from him. "It could kill a person."

"Hundred an' fifty proof! Takes awhile for city folks to get used to it."

Buck smiled, flashing a pair of white teeth, and for a moment Jane thought him almost handsome. He had green twinkling eyes and a chiseled face tanned by years in the sun. His forearms extending from rolled up shirt sleeves showed long sinewy muscles with not an inch of spare flesh below coarse sunbleached hairs that gave him a strong masculine appearance.

"Sure hate to go back into that heat," he said, thrusting his elbow towards the back room. "Sometimes it gets unbelievable hot workin' on the still. There ain't nothin' ya can do about it, though."

Jane sensed herself slowly warming to Buck sitting beside her. The gulp of whisky she had taken and the arduous work inside had lowered her defenses somewhat and for the first time in many hours she wasn't nervous. Through the slight daze that first taste of the strong alcohol had given her, she knew she must escape before Josh and Silas returned, yet she almost enjoyed this moment sitting in the sun with Buck. It seemed strange that they had both grown up within fifty miles of each other, had shared in many of the same southern traditions, and yet were as different as two people from opposite sides of the globe.