The Most Beautiful Girl?

By W E Monroe

This is a humorous tale revolving around how we define beauty. Set in the hills of western North Carolina in the late 1860's, just after the Civil War. The main characters are Hester Mooney, her daddy, Rooster Mooney; a small town school teacher Nate Cooley and his Aunt Flo. Aunt Flo has a secret shady past. A local disaster cements the relationships of them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: W E Monroe
• Release date: Mar 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458187888

W E Monroe

I'm retired and home is Orlando, Florida. I started writing a number of years ago just before the internet came into our lives. I was very serious about developing my writing skills. Even though I was writing mainly for my own pleasure and satisfaction, not as means of making a living. After a few feeble attempts at getting published, I soon lost interest. A recent gift was an ebook reader which I've enjoyed immensely. This got me thinking about the stories and poetry I wrote years ago. Reading my old stuff, I felt that that mine compared favorably. So, I decided to try publishing in ebooks and see if any readers are interested. I intend to submit a book of my short stories and a book of poetry. Over the years I've had a number of interests in addition to writing. I became interested in gems and minerals after some family members retired and moved to Franklin, North Carolina. During visits there I became aware of the gem mining in that area. My interest in North Carolina history developed while working on my family's genealogy. I discovered that my ancestors arrived in North Carolina from Scotland in the late 1700's. More recently I've done nature photography, some of which I smugly call "Art Photography". (Maybe, maybe not!)

Book preview

The Most Beautiful Girl

W E Monroe

Copyright 2010 by W E Monroe

ISBN: 978-1-4581-8788-8

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Chapter One: Rooster and the Moonshine

Rooster! You ain't got that field plowed yet, have you? Sarcasm edged her voice as she placed his lunch in front of him. After thirty-some years, the bliss of married life had faded.

No, Lucille . . . I'm workin' on it. His squinty left eye stole a glance in her direction.

I'm workin' on it, she mocked. Ain't that what you told me yesterday? Let me see your eyes. Yep. You been up at the still makin' whiskey, ain't you? I swear, you drink more than you sell.

Lucille, for god's sake, I just needed a little taste.

Look at you. Ain't shaved in a week. No money for the salt and flour I need. You won't even go to church. You used to love me.

Awww . . . Lucille. I love you. You know I do. But . . . The chair scraped back from the rough-sawed table. As he had so many times before, Rooster fled from the sharp tongue of his wife.

Rooster! Where you goin'? she sternly called.

I'm gonna hitch up the horse and ride down the hill to Harrelson Corners. Sell a few jars of shine. He stepped from the porch and dejectedly strode away.

You better not drink none, she yelled at his back. You done drank enough for one day. Your drinkin' is gonna ruin this family.

Rooster's one droopy eyelid gave the scrawny little man an undeserved, sinister appearance. His leathery face silently reflected the years spent coaxing an existence out of the reluctant, rocky fields of the west North Carolina farm. Slouched and tired looking, Jebediah Mooney appeared as though it was he, not Lucille, who gave birth to nine babies in fourteen years. Only one, Hester, now marrying age, remained at home.

Because Rooster stayed at least a little bit drunk most of the time, friends and family seldom knew when he was sober. But Lucille knew. She looked at his eyes. When sober, both his eyelids drooped, and he peered out at the world through two narrow slits. Once when comparing notes with Maude Fetter about husbands and moonshine, she remarked, When Rooster's sober those squinty eyes of his makes him look just like a mole plowed up into the sun.

Rooster Mooney had always liked his liquor, but during the war with the Yankees, a need to drink took root and flourished. Until then he provided well for his large family.

From his farm, the Confederacy drafted one son after another to fight for Dixie. Then in the final, desperate days of the war, it took the youngest boy, Wesley. The war widowed one daughter. Six months pregnant with the Mooney's first grandchild when the news came, she collapsed into her daddy's arms. Two of his and Lucille's sons died and one of them, the boy, Wesley.

Rooster could not bear the losses and he sought refuge in the numbing effects of alcohol. When the sharpest grieving had passed, the craving for drink lingered. He gave up on living and wanted only to forget. Life became an endless succession of todays, with seldom a thought of tomorrow. Getting drunk, a way to shut out the reality of the man he had become.

Sober, he felt the barely concealed scorn of family and neighbors, but after a few thirsty swigs, he imagined himself a man of importance, intelligence, and wisdom.

Rooster farmed--when it didn't interfere with drinking. He raised a little tobacco, but mostly corn. Moonshine consumed a generous portion of the