bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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bmblbee
bloodclaim

White Lightnin' 5/37

Title:White Lightnin' 5/37
Author: BmblBee
Rating Adult overall
Paring: S/X
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story and make
no profit from them
Summary: Set in the early 1940's, Spike is a G-man sent on
a mission in the Applachian mountains to search for
and destroy illegal alcohol when he has an accident.
Xander is a moonshiner who takes him in.



Xander hustled out into the cool morning mountain air. His
cock was stiff and ached with the need for an early wake up piss.
He thought about trying to make it to the out house, but fuck it,
if his old hound, Bubba could use a tree, so could he.

Fishing around in the front of his bib overalls, he grabbed hold of
his best friend and freed him into the shock of cold air.
'Ahhh'
The hot stream of urine steamed as it hit the tree trunk
and ran to the ground.
His ground.

Thanks to his Grandpa, he owned not only the old family cabin,
but 50 acres of fertile earth that surrounded it.
Off in the distance he could see the mist laying heavy over
the tops of the Appalachian mountains.

It was a sight that had to make heaven envious.

Shaking off, he tucked himself away and started back to the cabin
for a hot cup of coffee and a look at the books.
He may be a bootlegger, but he was also a hell of a business man.

After all just because he got a free ride through four years of college
on a football scholarship, didn't mean he was stupid.
He had studied hard and graduated with high marks.

Several corporations had approached him with lucrative business
offers, but none of them interested him.
He had been away too long.
He wanted to come home.

He remembered how it had been upon his return.
The cabin was in disrepair when he arrived.
Abandoned and empty some ten years now.
The roof had blown off and animals were nesting in the bedroom.

He jumped in the first day and finished up just as
the first snows of winter swirled in. Most of Arkansas stayed
fairly warm, but winter in the mountains was isolating and difficult.
It was everything he loved.

Walking back, he stopped behind the cabin and studied the area
around, as he did daily.
Couldn't be too careful.

Those fuckin' revenuers were always finding and busting up
any stills they could sniff out.

Came right onto a man's property, they did.
Just wasn't fuckin' American!

He was luckier than most.
His still was set back into a wooded area that could not be reached
from behind and no one could approach from the front without
being seen.

Anyone who did stumble upon his cabin would only find a simple
halfwitted soul who survives by trapping coon and beaver for
food and hide and growing corn and veggies in a garden at the
clearing.

Satisfied the property was unchanged, he continued back down
the path.
The next stop was a large ramshackle barn that sat about 50' from
the back door of his home.

Checking the padlock on the barn door, he tugged it firmly to make
sure it was secure.
Inside this barn was his true pride and joy.
The most valuable thing he owned.

Inside sat a glorious, 1939, shiny black, Lincoln V12, sedan.
He had bought it wrecked his first month home and lovingly restored it.
The already powerful motor had been punched up, and nothing in
the state could touch it.

Xander knew that was where the real money was.
Any old farmer could throw together a still and make a little corn
mash, but the real money was selling to the local dealers and taverns.

And that took a first class rumrunner.
Someone who could out drive the law.
That took Xander.

Like anything else, he considered it a business.
You took care of your equipment and used the elements to
your best advantage.
The back seat had been removed and packing crates were installed.

He could carry and deliver more crocks undamaged than any of
those other fools who hauled in the beds of beat down pick up trucks.
Wasn't no money in delivering broken crocks.

Hustling on back to the cabin, Xander stirred the hot coals in the
fireplace and put on the pot for coffee.
Tonight was a full moon and he had a lot of work to do today.

He liked to do his major deliveries at night when the moonlight
lit the backroads.
It meant he could drive like a bat out of hell with no headlights on.
Law wouldn't even try to catch him tonight.

Tossing back a rag rug that laid on the floor in front of his bed,
Xander lifted a loose slat and removed a metal box and thick
bound ledger that were hidden there.

Opening the box, he counted the money and satisfied himself
that it was all there.
He then sat down on the bed to review the figures he had carefully
logged.
Convincing himself that all was as it should be, he replaced the
items and carefully covered all with the worn throw.

Anxious to get started, Xander swallowed the last of the coffee
and set the cup in the wash tub he used as a sink.

Circling the cabin he entered the open ended shed at the side.
In there he kept all the innocent looking equipment a mountain
dweller might use to live simply.

He pulled out his wheel barrow and pushed it, whistling, to the barn.
Using a key from his pocket, Xander unlocked the barn and wheeled
inside.

Stopping for a moment, he ran his hand slowly down the side of the car.
"Got us a run tonight, Sweetheart. Just you and me as always.
Don't want no woman, and can't have no man so it looks like it's
you and me and by best friend Lefty on them lonely nights."

Xander chuckled humorlessly. He had money, a home in the
mountains he loved, and thanks to a serious football injury, no
worry about being drafted if the rumors of war were true.

Still, he sometimes missed the company and companionship of
other men.
He also missed the sex.

College had given him more than an education of the books.
It had also schooled him in the secrets of his heart. There had
been several different college boys he had experimented with
and he knew where his proclivity lie.

"Someday." He sighed. "Maybe someday God will just drop
the perfect man right into my lap."
Laughing, he wheeled over to a stack of sack corn and started
loading them into the barrow.

Casually tossing the heavy loads in he whistled an old tune
that constantly ran through his brain.
"We're in the money.
We're in the money.
We got a lot of what it takes to get along."

Leaving the barn, he relocked and double checked the padlock.
Humming, he started off down the path to the still. Darting
through the trees he was almost there when he heard it.

It was the unmistakable sound of a car crash followed by the
unwavering blare of a horn stuck on blast.
Xander paused, suspicious.
He then gave everything a quick check over and satisfied that
all was right, he ran for the road.

The only road that led to his property.
A road nobody had any business being on.
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