Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 10

Free Joan Hess - Arly Hanks 10 by The Maggody Militia

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Authors: The Maggody Militia
jewish?” she asked.
    “Not for a second,” he assured her, hoping he had his facts straight. “I’m saying that the Jews are not descended from the twelve tribes of Israel, any more than the Africans or the Ethiopians or the Eskimos-because they ain’t Caucasians. Only the folks from the western Christian nations qualify.”
    As Mrs. Jim Bob sank down to sort this out, Eula Lemoy fluttered her hand. “And the United States of America is the Promised Land?”
    Brother Verber nodded. “Just like the Lord promised in the Abrahamic Covenant. Let’s all bow our heads and offer a prayer of thankfulness for this blessing that has been bestowed on us.”
    /\ /\ /\
    Raz Buchanon spat angrily as a gun was fired somewhere higher up on Cotter’s Ridge. “These dadburned city folk got no call to come here and start shootin’ at anything that moves,” he muttered to Marjorie, who’d refused to get out of the truck. “And if Diesel values his worthless hide, he’d better stay away from here. I’d sooner blow off his head as look at him!”
    Marjorie blinked as sunlight glinted off the copper tubes and empty Mason jars.
    “What’s more,” Raz went on, “I ain’t gonna feel any kindlier toward those soldier fellers if they come snoopin’ around here. I’ll blast the lot of them to Kingdom Come. You jest see if I don’t.” He spat again, glared so savagely at a squirrel that it liked to fall off a branch, then replenished his chaw and returned his attention to the fine art of making moonshine. Business was always real good during the holiday season.
    /\ /\ /\
    Jake Milliford belched as he pushed away from the kitchen table. “Fine dinner,” he forced himself to say, not being comfortable throwing out compliments but doing it anyway. Short of stuffing Judy in a gunny sack and putting her in the back of the truck, there wasn’t any way he could force her to go to Maggody for four days. He should have been able to just lay down the law ‘cause she was his wife, but he knew better than to try it. “I’m gonna go watch the game. When you get finished with the dishes, come into the living room.”
    “I’m not interested in ballgames,” she said as she carried his plate to the sink. “I told Janine I’d come over this afternoon and help her make curtains for the nursery. She found a real cute gingham print on sale-“
    “You don’t have to sit there all afternoon. I got something to show you. After that, you can go wherever you please.” He left the room before she could start whining, which, as far as he was concerned, was about all she ever did. It wasn’t like all he ever did was lie around the house all day or take off two weeks to go deer hunting. No, he worked eight-hour shifts five days a week at the salvage yard just to keep them from having to live in a neighborhood where they’d be surrounded by lazy half-breeds. He didn’t go around beating up faggots like some of the fellows did. He took her to church most Sundays, even though he didn’t cotton to all the pious shit about lovin’ thy neighbor and turnin’ the other cheek. The only time he was gonna turn the other cheek was while he was pulling out a gun.
    “What do you want?” said Judy, coming to the doorway with her coat over her arm.
    He picked up a six-foot aluminum pole. “LaRue gave me this to try. It’s called a take-down blowgun, and it’s supposed to be accurate up to sixty feet. He said he got himself an elevenpound turkey.”
    “So I was showing it to you. At halftime, I’m gonna go out back and see if it’s as powerful and accurate as LaRue sez. If it is, I’m gonna order one for myself and a shorter one for you.”
    “What would I do with it? You know I don’t like to hunt.”
    “When the time comes that we have to take to the woods, you may need it for self-defense.” Judy put on her coat. “Well, at least you can’t shoot yourself in the foot with it. I’ll be back at suppertime. Don’t call me over

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