Susan stared at the young man who stood before her grandmother, hands clenched as he battled his anger. She had heard the rumors for years about the Watkins family. It was widely known that Old Mr. Watkins had been a notorious moonshiner and that even as an old man he ran a still in the mountains of the Chattahoochee National Forrest.
Most of the people in town who knew the story believed that Old Mr. Watkins had quarreled with a rival and the argument had turned violent. No one could agree however, on whether Watkins had murdered his rival and fled, or if it had gone the other way and his body still moldered somewhere in the far hills.
“Your grandfather was a moonshiner and law breaker,” Alana said, her bright eyes scanning the young man. “Still, it isn’t right that no one knows what actually happened to him.” The old woman waved a hand toward a chair. “Sit and we’ll chat.” She lifted her eyes to her granddaughter. “Susan why don’t you bring that tea I suggested earlier. Perhaps Mr. Watkins will help us figure out how Israel and Oreo ended up wandering the hills on their own all those years ago.”
Susan gaped at her grandmother. Only minutes ago the old tyrant had declared Susan’s mission a waste of time and now she was all for Mr. Watkins picking up the thread. The mystery belonged to her, and she had no intention of sharing it with the handsome young man sitting awkwardly in her grandmother’s parlor.
“Go on then,” Alana urged shooing her like a pesky child. “I’ll chat with Mr. Watkins while you’re gone.”
“Thank you,” David looked between the two women, trying to relax as he sat in the high-backed chair opposite the senior Holmes. “As you know, my grandfather disappeared right around the time you found those two horses. Unfortunately, in all that time, we have not been able to find a single clue that would set our family on the path of discovering what happened to Harcourt Watkins.”
“Your grandpa was no saint,” Alana said, lifting her chin. “He was a moonshiner and was earning money in a very unsavory manner. Yes, yes,” the old woman waved her hand in the air before David could argue. “I know moonshining was a pass time for many in this part of the state, especially since it was a dry county, but selling it without paying taxes was highly illegal. And before you try to argue your grandfather’s case,” the old woman leaned forward pinning David with her eyes. “I saw him myself walking through campus with his shotgun in hand. He looked like some wild mountain man before the invention of the bath.”
“You actually saw him?” David slid forward on the edge of his seat. “In ’66 you saw my grandfather alive?”
“We students were under strict orders not to traverse the woods behind the falls back then,” Alana, shook her head. “The board was afraid we would stumble onto a still and get shot. It wasn’t uncommon to see a few scruffy men traipse through the campus, with a hand cart full of hooch and a shotgun over their shoulder. They looked beyond horrid,” The old woman shivered.
“But you went hiking anyway,” David smiled liking the pluck of this old woman. No matter what her views on his grandfather’s behavior, she could know something that would help him put this age old mystery to rest. No matter what anyone had said for all those years, his recently departed grandmother had never believed a single rumor.
“Tea?” The pretty woman from a few moments ago walked back into the room carrying a tray full of shimmering glasses full of the iced amber delight. She was an attractive woman with blue eyes and light brown hair, her appearance seemed suck all the air out of the room.
“Thank you,” David cleared his throat as a strange sensation swarmed him, like group of agitated bees, and he looked up to meet bright blue eyes full of irritation. Silently he reached up taking the proffered glass, his fingers grazing hers as they met half way. A shiver raced down David’s spine and he gasped, gripping the sweat beaded glass tighter. The last thing he needed to do was drop his drink in this fancy house.
“Susan do sit down,” Alana barked at her granddaughter. “Put the tray on the table. What on earth has gotten into you?” The old woman shook her head of perfectly coiffed white curls. “Susan was just asking me to tell her the story of when I found the horses. She’s far too curious about such things if you ask me. It isn’t safe for a young single woman to be so curious.”
Susan almost choked on her own sip of sweet tea, coughing and spluttering as she sat it on a coaster on the side table and stared at her grandmother.
“How can you say that when you’re the one who found the horses in the first place? Despite the orders against going into that forest. I just want to understand what happened. I’ll find out too,” she added glaring at Mr. Watkins.
Alana Holmes looked between her granddaughter and the young man who had finally gotten his emotions under control. “Perhaps you and Mr. Watkins can work together,” she mused, sipping from her frosty glass. “That way I won’t worry about you so much.” Blue eyes pinned Susan from above the rim of the tall crystal glass making the younger woman squirm.
Susan’s eyes grew wide at her grandmother’s suggestion. Alana Holmes knew better than anyone how much Susan wanted to solve this mystery; alone. She had been investigating quietly for years, reading news reports, police journals, and digging for every clue she could find. “Gram?”
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Watkins placed his icy glass on the table before him. “I work alone.”
“That’s a pity,” Alana said her eyes dancing. “It’s a shame you have completely wasted your time.” She turned looking at Susan,
