Good Intentions (Samogon 1) (5 page)

On Tuesday afternoon, family and friends gathered at the house to pay respect to the widow and her daughter. Sometime into the affair, Rochelle slipped out of the house and sat along the bank of the farm pond. She was still in disbelief that her dad was gone, and she was still puzzled about the bunker and the stills. She couldn't figure out how her dad and Chris kept it secret. She tried to convince herself that she had more right to know than Chris. After all, it was Donovan property, Donovan business. It just burned her to think her dad trusted Chris more than her or that he couldn’t trust her at all.

Rochelle sensed Peter Rabbit’s presence off to her side.
She bent her legs up and rested her arms and head on her knees. Slowly she turned her head to look. Sure enough, about thirty feet away, he sat alone just watching her. Rochelle managed to smile as tears of mourning continued to roll down her face. “Hey little buddy,” she said softly. “Daddy’s not here anymore, so you don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to run off and hide anymore.”

He kept his distance and was always in a spot where he could make a quick escape.
And just like that, he squatted low in the grass to conceal himself. Rochelle knew instantly that someone was approaching from behind her—Chris.

“I’ve been looking for you.
Your mom is ready for everyone to leave. Reverend Paul has your mom seeing a new light and your father isn't even in the ground yet. I know you’re hurting, but maybe you should stay close to your mom.”

Seeing an opening, Rochelle jumped Chris about her dad.
“And maybe
you
should tell me what the hell my dad and you were doing in that bunker.” She wasn’t making a suggestion, she was giving Chris an ultimatum—talk or walk.

“Your father made a
decent living with his maintenance company, but do you think he was able to pay the taxes on all this property, have that fine house, nice car, and pay for you to go to college all on what he makes from Cartwell Banks? No. So he made and sold moonshine to supplement his income. Been doing it since before I started working for him, and ever since you were a baby.”

Rochelle looked on in amazement as Chris continued his story.

“He had a real talent for making the mash and distilling high proof alcohol. He was good at it and liked it. Funny thing, he didn’t drink a lot of it except to taste if it was ready and to proof it. Your daddy’s moonshine should have been a brand name like Coca Cola. He just never gave it a name. He even taught me over the last six years how to distill. Now I can do it all.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing with daddy this whole time?
What about the fields and all that sweet corn?”

“Well, baby girl, almost all of the corn is used for the mash.
Some of the small fields are just feedlots for deer and turkey. The rest he sells at market. Yeah, that’s what I do. I helped your dad make hundreds of gallons at a time, and helped him stash it and deliver it. He even trusted me to collect money from customers.”

Chris answered her in a way that sounded more like showing off rather than explaining.
Rochelle wasn’t impressed, or at least she wouldn’t admit it.

“Your dad’s lawyer was out earlier to pay his respects.
He brought me a letter your dad had written me last year some time. Seems like your dad knew he was going to pass away sooner than later and was making preparations. Anyhow, Mr. Bowers says it’s a simple will your dad made. He’ll be back Friday to read it to your mother and you. He did say that death and inheritance taxes were going to be high.”

“Chris, whatever you’re trying to say, just say it.”
She sensed he was holding something back.

“Well, I’m taking over the moonshine operation, and it’s got to start producing again to pay the taxes that are about to be levied against this farm.
You don’t work, and your mom is just a part-time teacher. Neither one of you can pay the taxes, but the moonshine can. Otherwise you're going to lose the house and the farm.”

“No.
I’ll skip college and use my trust to pay the taxes.” Rochelle’s pride would not allow her to be dependent on a moonshine operation.

Chris felt pity for Rochelle.
“You’re not sacrificing college in the face of adversity. This is when you stand tall. You don’t bend on this, baby girl. I understand what you want to do, but you are not realizing what your father was sacrificing for you.”

A mere eighteen years old, fatherless, and the world staring her in the face, Rochelle had no idea what her future had in store.

***

Richard Donovan’s funeral was modest.
Few family members had made the trip from Atlanta. A lot of Cartwell employees were in attendance. Most noticeably was a woman in her early forties, accompanied by her husband and son, who appeared to be a few years younger than Rochelle.

Louise recognized Tricia Brennan-Morgan immediately, despite not having seen her since the Donovans attended her father’s funeral years ago.
And now, like her father, she too had become a senator.

Though Rochelle had never met the woman, she knew the lady’s history and she was intrigued to see someone from her father’s past.
Rochelle studied the senator, and came to understand what Chris was telling her about facing adversity. Once upon a time, in a single moment, Tricia Brennan’s privileged life was over, death was certain. And in the next moment, Rochelle’s father was able to give it back to her. The young lady did not take such a second chance for granted. She no longer skated through life living on her family name and fortune—she had made her own name and reputation.

For eighteen years Richard Donovan worked his butt off and at times skirted the law to give his family a secure life and money for his daughter to go to college.
How could Rochelle forsake all that her father had done for her? As a former marine, her father would accuse his daughter of dishonoring him and all that he sacrificed.

Chris was
right; she had to go to college.

Rochelle started to worry about how her mother was going to feel about being left alone so soon after her father’s death.
Of course, Chris would be there working. Louise had always opened her home to Chris, treating him like family. He would have to become Louise's anchor.

***

That Friday, James Bowers arrived at the Donovan farm to read Richard’s will. The law firm of Middleton, Bowers and Lowe had been under retainer for several years and handled all of Richard’s taxes and estate.

The $30,000 insurance policy was divided equally between mother and daughter.
All of Richard’s personal cash accounts went to Louise with a balance of almost $50,000. The farm, with $35,000 left on the mortgage, would go to Louise. However, Richard had made conditions with Chris before his death that if Louise chose to sell the farm, Chris would get the first chance to buy it at the appraised value.

Chris had also been given rights to work the land and to hunt and fish on the property during all times the farm remained in Donovan hands.
Forty percent of all revenue that Chris generates from working the farm was to be paid to Louise. All of Richard’s guns, machinery, and tools passed to Chris. The vehicles and tractor were to remain with Louise.

Rochelle had a $75,000 trust for college.
A $10,000 donation had been made to the Ashland Baptist Church where Louise attended worship. This made Reverend Paul very happy.

The taxes were steep.
Bowers’ partners were doing everything they could to keep the costs down. In the end, $50,000 remained outstanding in taxes. There was also the issue of $10,000 in fees that had been left outstanding with the firm. The taxes alone would deplete the cash accounts.

After the cash was gone there would be no source of income for the Donovan women unless Chris worked the farm.
That was something Louise would have to sit down and talk with Chris about, but not tonight. Emotionally drained and feeling bone tired she headed off to bed.

Rochelle sat with Chris on the sofa and discussed the family’s current situation.
“Chris, what are we going to do? Once momma pays the taxes she won’t have any money to live on. If I leave for college, what is she going to do?”

Chris thought Louise would have one le
ss mouth to feed, but that wasn’t how he responded. “Well, I have some money saved to help with the bills. I also have 250 gallons of moonshine to sell. Problem is, almost all of your dad’s customers dealt with him directly. Not many messed with me except for deliveries.” Chris continued to explain. “Now, the farm does have seventy-five acres of sweet corn to harvest. I’ll talk to your mom about that.” Chris wasn’t worried as much as Rochelle. He knew the farm could feed everyone.

But Rochelle knew unless she made a life with Chris, sooner or later he would move on.
Maybe he would stick around and buy the farm if her mother decided to sell it, but who would give a twenty-something black kid a $700,000 mortgage? The farm would have to be cut-up into smaller pieces. No, he wasn’t leaving. In her heart she knew Chris loved her and would stay for her―and for the stills.

Rochelle thought of her Russian companion just then.
“What about Mikhail? Maybe he’ll buy all 250 gallons. How much would it cost him?”

Chris laughed at the suggestion.
“Baby girl, we’re talking about thousands of dollars. You really think your eighteen-year-old boyfriend has that kind of money? Let’s be real.”

“I am being real.
He’s not my boyfriend, and it would be his brother’s money. I guess they plan to sell it by the drink in some club in Cincinnati. So, how much? I can call him in the morning and we could be done with this.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to sway her, Chris answered her.
“$50 a gallon. That’s ...”

“$12,500.
I can count better than you.”

“Your father sold the corn whiskey at forty a gallon, but since your boy is a new customer, it’s fifty for him, at least for now.
I’d be amazed if you can make that happen.” Chris was challenging her, and she just smiled back.

***

An hour after speaking to Mikhail, Rochelle was holding over $12,000. It felt amazing making that deal and holding all that cash. She suddenly had a newfound love for money and had the idea of becoming a bootlegger.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Mikhail expressed to her with a soft hand holding her face.
“Life sucks sometimes, but you deal with it and go on. Have you decided where you will go to school ... which university?”

“No, but I want to go as far away as possible.
I feel like running away. And yet I don’t have the resources to take care of myself, and I can’t be a burden on my mom.”

Mikhail reached up with his other hand and lifted her face so she was looking him in the eye.
“Not to fear, love. You need money, you want to get away, and you’ll need a friend. Your problem is solved.”

“How’s that?” she asked.

“Ohio State. It is far enough away but close enough to come home in a hurry if you have to. And this way, the two of us and your friend can continue making these trades and we can all make enough money to do what we want.”

Rochelle stared at Mikhail, taking in everything he just said.
It sounded good, but an important part of it was entirely dependent upon Chris. She didn’t know how to make whiskey and that meant, like it or not, daddy’s business now belonged to Chris. “You know, OSU accepted my application. I still have time to register for the fall semester.”

“Well, then,” Mikhail said, “it’s all settled.
Now, let’s go meet your friend and get my
samogon
.”

“Your what?”
Rochelle looked at him confused, not knowing what the Russian word meant.

“That’
s what we Russians call moonshine and homemade vodka.”

“Oh.
I figured as much. But Mikhail, you can’t go with me. I’m going to get the moonshine, or your
samogon
, and then you can meet me once I have it.”

Mikhail wasn’t ready to accept this condition, yet he wasn’t too worried
—she wasn’t going anywhere. It was the law he was concerned with.

“I’m supposed to trust you to transport 250 gallons of bootleg whiskey and not get caught?
Don’t get me wrong, love, I trust you with my money, but I don’t think you know what you’re doing when it comes to smuggling.” Mikhail laughed and reached out to hold Rochelle.

Rochelle took a step back
, feeling insulted. Chris had questioned whether she was stupid, and now this guy, a stranger to Kentucky, was questioning her. “What do you know that makes you such a know-it-all?” she snapped. Little did she know, he knew more than most people.

“Okay, okay,” he said, still laughing.
“Are you going to give me my money back if you get caught?”

“I won’t get caught.
Quit trippin’!”