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Uncle Fred fate.. (standard:humor, 2377 words)
Author: stanley mcqueen kentucky backwoods writerAdded: Apr 02 2007Views/Reads: 2170/1411Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
backwoods tales
 



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Booster. He seen us and flew madder that a hornet that had been slapped 
they a tree limb, he threw the old shot gun at the barn post and 
stormed out of there like a lite dry corn shuck. His last words was im 
riding into Swamp town and reporting you and Red for making moonshine, 
that gal your holding in your arms should be my gal he added and then 
he saddle one of Red work mules and rode away cussing every breath.. 
Dad gum  he meant every single word the next day some men come riding 
some fancy horses with shiny badges on that said on them us marshals, 
they busted up every steel we had hide in the hollow and lead me and 
Red like you would a milk cow to market out of that think timbered 
hollow, the had a quick trial in swamp township and convicted us of 
making moonshine drinking spirits , I got four years and red God six in 
the swamp town prison camp, they separated me and Red from each other 
and I was put to work in a rock quarry where every day with a ten pound 
hammers I was busting up large hard rocks , they used them on mud holes 
along the wagon road to fell holes up. every rock I busted I say that 
is Booster head and that give me some comfort thinking and it was 
Booster head made my work less grievous, I was thinking when I get out 
of this pen , I going to find that Booster and kill his soul for doing 
me such and injustice over a little mountain gal that never like his at 
all. Now here he was right in on making and selling whiskey just like 
me and red was and he a free man now and is probably shacked up with my 
gal Sara , how could fate do me this harm , I han,t meant to be a 
whiskey maker I just sort of fell into working for the wrong man old 
Red North illegal whiskey had me now caged up like a trapped rabbit , 
boys every day seemed like a week in that old pen , we were fed like 
hogs and such , and was only allowed to bath in the river once every 
week, I had grown some awful strong muscles beating on them blame old 
hard gravel rocks that we had to blast out of the mountain, there 
wasn't a man in the pen that could whip me, guess I had gotten stronger 
than they had hitting harder on the rocks making believe that them rock 
was Booster old noggin boys them years crawled by and I thought I never 
live eating that old pen slop and busting them rocks but one day the 
warden come in him and two pen guards and said you time is up and they 
reached me a old suit goat and some trousers that looked to be almost 
brand new and handed me a ten dollars bill , and lead me to the main 
gait and said farewell , Finely at last I was a free bird again and now 
had to find me a ride back to that hollow that was bout thirty .Seven 
miles from this prison, swamp town prison is the worst pen in the state 
of Kentucky, few men live to make it our to freedom some are killed in 
the rock slides or blasting. But fate had me a free man again , and I 
was aiming to kill booster at first site, I had waked about a full mile 
in the direction toward where old Red place was and got a ride with a 
plunder salesman, who was going right the way I was wanting to head 
toward the hollow to kill Booster, that old kind plunder man sold me a 
cheap old rusty pistol for the whole ten dollars and give me five 
shells to boot and that pleased me mighty that he just happen to have a 
hand Gun to sell with that wagon load of pot and pan and all kind of 
shack plunder, it was several hours going over the bumpy wagon road 
till we reached the mouth of the hollow that lead down to the old Red 
tom farm, I told the ball headed plunder man that I, be getting off 
right now and he stopped the mules team and I climbed down and give the 
old gentleman a fair well, and I headed down the hollow toward the old 
shack, as I made my way down I was thinking after I get there I would 
hide in a thicket and spy things out, before I killed old Booster, I 
just new he had shacked up with pretty Sara, It took about a full hour 
to get there and the old shack was worst looking than it had been four 
years back, I hide in a thicket, and just waited for any sigh of 
movement inside the shack, I guess I had been there about fifteen 
minutes, and I saw old Booster stagger out from the door way onto the 
old half rotten porch stoop. He was drunk and behind him followed a 
little toddler and it was crying something awful, mercy sakes alive and 
behind the crying toddler was a fat woman with black hair, she was Sara 
but not the same Sara that she used to be, I bet that gal would weight 
out three hundred and fifty pounds,  the lot of the three was dirty and 
Sara was cussing Booster, telling him how useless he was as a man, and 
that poor little toddler was crying its lungs out, old ragged clothes 
hanging  all about the porch rafters and the old front yard was bare of 
any grass, the place was a site for sore eyes. Something come over me 
boys right there in the thicket , that change my mind on killing 
Booster, I was thinking that Fate had kiss me right in the mouth and 
been a help to me, I realized that I could have been In Boosters place, 
I was thinking that a man fate was just that, till today when I seen 
what had become of Booster , and Sara that woman had grown into a pure 
fatting hog , the smell of the shack was foul , I need to wait till 
they go back inside to slip back out of here, and after fat Sara 
cussing and fussing at Booster they final went back inside , and I was 
glad, I slipped out of that hollow and realized that fate had been on 
my side at least this time, thinking to myself what if I had got 
hitched with Sara I would be in the place that Booster was in . Well I 
come back here where I was born and bought my farm and worked like a 
mule to pay for it , im fifty five now boys and don't expect I will 
ever marry nor spark a gal, guess fate would have it that way , but for 
the most part im a happy man anyhow I ain,t married to a fat gal and 
living in a old moonshiner shack with a house full of nasty brats 
hanging about my legs, Paw chuckled and said I see how a man fate now 
could be a man best friend, yes grandpa ,said that be the truth, seems 
like that four years in the swamp town prison made a big difference, in 
the way Fred life went. Yes sir boys Fred speaks up sometimes a man 
fate can be a man best friend, it had been another swell night atop the 
highest ridge in these here parts, if the lord tarry his coming next 
Friday we will be back up here to run the mighty fox of these Kentucky 
ridges, somehow I felt that I had learned  a great lesson, hope you 
enjoyed my mountain story ,, Stanley mcqueen 


   


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