The Moonshine Women Quotes

“You found Cinderella!”
“Now, hold on a minute,” her mama said. “I was not a princess.”
“Neither was Cinderella— before she met her prince,” her daddy said. “That’s part of your charm.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“But life is nothing but continuous change— both expected and unexpected. Of the three of them, she probably understood this best. Like the seasons here on her mountain. How warm tender drops of an April rain readied the soil for the imminent miracle of seeds and sunlight; the hot beating summer sun turned the early neon greens to tones that were deeper, more substantial, while blackberries plumped every pillow of their being with sweet purply juice. Then: the fire on the mountain that was fall, burning oranges, crimsons, golds; and finally winter, edging brown leaves with frost, blanketing the hillsides in cotton-white quiet.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“Well, that’s about the size of it. You haven’t been good to me. Or Hi. And the world would be a better place without you. At least, our corner of it.”
“Elsie, come on. We can figure this out.” Jed recovered his swagger, despite the piss-stained pants. That confidence that he could charm his way out of the situation, even one as sad and dire as this one.
“Get out,” she said. “And don’t ever show your face around here again. Or in Kinney. Or anywhere there’s a person who knows you. You’re dead to me. And if you show up again, I can guarantee you’ll be dead to everyone else, too. Graveyard dead.
“I won’t save you from the Strong sisters a second time.”
She looked at the note in her hand, folded it. “Your parents will be sad to read this. But they love Hi. Don’t worry. We’ll be more than all right without you.”
Jed’s face registered first shock, incredulity. And then: anger. He looked furiously from sister to sister, hoping for a chink in the mortar, a break in the wall of their solidarity.
None was forthcoming.
He shook his head. “You Strongs think you’ve got it all figured out, and better’n everyone else. Even God Almighty. I’m glad to be rid of the lot of you.”
He started toward the loft door but then paused, glancing towards Shine’s pistol, which still lay on the floor.
“Don’t even think about it,” Rebecca said. “And leave your nag where she is or I’ll shoot her out from under you. Dead men don’t have need of horses. You’re lucky to walk out of here on your own two feet.
“And no necktie.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“What… am I supposed to say?” Jed whined. “I never been much for writing.”
“Well, you can start with ‘Dear Elsie’ and continue with how sorry you are,” Shine said stonily. “Sorry for not being the man and husband you needed to be. And for letting down Hi. Sorry for hurting her. For hurting the entire family. And for breaking her heart in pieces.”
“Hold on, you’re going too fast,” Jed said, hands shaking as he tried to still the paper and write. “I can’t keep up.”
“Ha!” said Shine. “You never could. Wrap it up with the fact that she will be better off without you; the whole world will be.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“I could almost take it if you were just a spoiled idiot who can’t drive worth a crap and damn near broke my sister’s leg off. Who lost half our money. And pissed away even more. I’ve been wanting you gone since that prohi told me you tipped him off about Daddy’s still,” she went on. “And to think we welcomed you into our family after you got him killed.”
“Now, hold on.” Jed backed slowly toward the opening of the loft. “You all didn’t ‘welcome’ me into this fucked-up family. Your daddy didn’t want me anywhere near it. And as I recall, there was a gun to my head at the wedding. Or at least pointed at some vital organ—”
“That’s been the real problem,” Shine interrupted. “The wedding. You married my sister. Who loved you, for some reason. Thought a leopard could change his spots, I guess. Instead, you cheated on her. But even with all your sins, shortcomings and sheer stupidity, I could’ve let bygones be bygones.”
She pulled the pistol from the pocket of her overalls.
“Whoa! Let’s not get crazy,” Jed stammered, smirk suddenly replaced with fear.
“But now you’ve gone and laid hands on her.” Shine shook her head slowly, as though regretful of what she was going to say next. Even though she wasn’t— not by a long shot. “She’s better off without you. We all are.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“I would venture to say my entire young life has been spent figuring out who is owed what by whom. And how to make sure those who deserve it get their due. If that isn’t bookkeeping, I don't know what is.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“It was like coming home; to a place and a feeling that was both familiar and unknown. Traipsing across the hilly woods of her Ozark land, taking worn paths and exulting in the landmarks of trees and creek and clearing in search of an elusive critter or bird. Finding instead something new or breathtaking where she least expected it: a clutch of minuscule bluebird eggs in a cavity where she had only seen woodpeckers, a spotted fawn curled nose to tail in the brush of an untended fencerow, a hollow oak that homed a hive of bees, its walls of waxy cells thick with golden honey.
The comfort of sameness, the astonishment in the unanticipated.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“She reached below the bar to her stash of “extras” and removed a gorgeous, ripe peach, from a last-of-the-season batch brought all the way from Texas. Grabbing a sharp knife and a cutting board, she quickly cut the fruit in half, expertly slicing between its fuzzy round shoulders along the suture. Once cleanly halved, the peach easily popped out its pit when she touched the tip of her knife beneath it. She set half aside and quickly diced the other into pieces. She chose a rocks glass from the shelf behind her and filled it with fresh ice. Then she threw a handful of dripping peach chunks, a sprig of mint and a spoonful of her brown sugar simple syrup into a silver cocktail shaker, muddling the contents briefly but thoroughly— too much muddling would make the mint taste bitter.
Capone was mesmerized by all the activity on his behalf. Then she added ice, two shots of the Strong’s peachy shine and rattled that shaker like her life depended on it. Maybe it did.
She strained the chilled liquid into the glass, splashed ginger beer on top and then garnished the sunset-colored drink with fresh mint and a peach slice.
Shine placed the glass in front of Capone; it was perfection.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“Shine was a fast study, learning how to make anything and everything the thirsty crowd at the Southern Club might desire--- an old-fashioned, sidecar, gin rickey or Tom Collins. Drinks neat, straight up or on the rocks. Martinis that were dirty, extra-dirty or downright filthy.
But she was at her best when she went off script. If someone answered her "What'll you have?" with "What's good?," Shine was off and running. She loved showcasing the Strong moonshine, with its smooth burn or fruity flair. And Shine often cut the standard spirits with sparkling sodas or fruit juices. The women who frequented the Southern Club loved her concoctions, so much more delicious to sit and sip than a cheap unadorned glass of hooch that hit your innards like a hot burning coal--- and was almost as tasty. Why just drink to get drunk when you could enjoy every swallow along the way? Shine calibrated the right balance of sweet, sour and salt in her creations, plus she knew how to finish, garnish and heighten a drink's appeal with a salute to Lidy: snippets of rosemary, thyme and basil; crushed mint; colorful slices of strawberries, melon and peaches; hot peppers and cool cucumbers along with the standard olives, lemons and limes.
Plus, Shine had a certain charm. Who could resist being told by an attractive, flame-headed young woman to "stop swilling the cheap stuff" and "hang on to your hat" as she set down a cocktail she came up with especially for you?
Everyone loved her. She was good for business. Very good.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“I may look like an accessory, but don't ever forget I'm the one in charge”
― Michelle Collins Anderson , The Moonshine Women

“Earlier, Lidy had set out loaves of her fresh wheat bread, dusted with seeds and salt, along with two peach pies with their crisscross crusts of golden brown. But the rest was brought by neighbors. Pans of fresh-picked green beans boiled with bacon and black pepper or mountains of mashed potatoes. Plus plates of biscuits, jars of jam from blackberry to huckleberry and everything in between; heaping bowls of canned peaches, hot peppers, pickles and peas. Someone had brought a thick beef stew in a cast-iron pot, still steaming with chunks of carrot, red potato and onion. Skillets of cornbread in every iteration but— Missouri being a border state— falling into one of two camps: white Southern style, with a fine crumb and not a bit of sweet, and its more crumbly Yankee cousin, made with coarser yellow cornmeal, sugar and fewer eggs.
And the desserts! Molasses crinkles and cinnamon-dusted snickerdoodles, oatmeal raisin cookies and lemon bars, derby pie, and every type of fruit pie. Not to mention the dark golden pecan pies with their sweet syrupy glaze, sugar pie, and both sweet potato and pumpkin pie, too. Crumb cake and pound cake.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“She had felt it in the spring, when the dazzling white blooms of dogwoods, serviceberry, wild plum and hawthorn trees became a welcome sight against the gray and brown trunks of the over-story trees. Here and there, deep pink blooms clung to the redbud branches; blood-red spikes accented the tips of buckeye trees. The boughs of their own apple trees swelled with luscious white blooms, the dozen trees of their orchard decked out like brides.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“Quart after quart of sun-ripened peaches, skinned and smooth as a baby’s behind, floating in clear syrup— there must have been ten dozen! Plus pint-sized mason jars filled with jewel-tone jellies and jams: blackberry, raspberry, strawberry, peach, apricot, cherry, gooseberry, persimmon and mulberry.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“How about a tour of the outhouse while we’re at it?” Shine had had about enough of these prohis and their pointless posturing. “No shine there but it’s seen more than a fair share of moons.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“Shine heard Cowboy stamping in his stall, along with the horse's strong yellow teeth working a chunk of alfalfa. And... snoring?
At the sound, McConnell shoved his way in front of Lidy to reach the stalls first. Cowboy eyed him suspiciously--- smart boy--- and kicked a back hoof against the wall in greeting or warning, Shine wasn't sure. Next to him was an empty stall where the Guernsey cow spent her nights and a larger one for the two plow horses, Cain and Abel, brothers named by Lidy for their opposite dispositions. Despite their differences, they nestled head to rump, a single round two-headed beast. Cain perked up his ears as the entourage passed, but neither animal rose. They had already put in a good morning's work under Rebecca's supervision, hauling the wagon full of quartz and limestone rocks she had cleared from a patch of land to make another cornfield.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“But she relished everything about distilling day: the way the sun warmed her scalp through her hair on a midsummer’s morning, the sweet scent of delicate Carolina roses, the breeze full of birdsong—- bluebirds and orioles, crows and cardinals—- warning each other of the Strongs’ intrusion.
But mostly she loved being with her father. Out here in the woods, he walked upright, moving with a freedom and purpose he lacked out in the field or in the barnyard. In those places, he seemed bent, bowed. Not like this tall, long-striding daddy who whistled the birds’ songs back to them, who taught her how to perfectly imitate their calls. It made Shine wish she favored him more—- but Elsie was blond and blue-eyed like Hiram and Rebecca got his length along with her mother’s dark hair and eyes.
But I got his magic. She loved their secret, almost mystical spot and the idea that no one knew exactly where they were. Shine and her daddy were in their own world.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“In the Strongs' case, Lidy taught Hiram everything he knew about making shine. A medicine woman of sorts, she often turned to tinctures for those seeking relief. Made with their homemade liquor, the elixirs could offer a much-needed calming effect at a certain dosage or serve as a painkiller in larger ones.
As for special ingredients, she rarely made the same recipe twice. Lidy loved nothing more than tossing a bucketful of overripe peaches or the innards of a mushy melon into the corn mash. Or fermenting some fresh fruit in a batch of shine to make her hooch something special--- and giving those peaches or pawpaws a kick. Shine's daddy had followed suit. But they didn't speak of that extra "somethin'-somethin'" outside the family. You went to your grave with that shit. Or you might get put in it early.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“Even though she was an infant, he saw her spit and vinegar, that spirit that would soon be lighting a fire under them all. His ma said he took a shine to her right away--- and that settled it.
Shine.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“Once they had the barrel on flat, dry ground, Hiram pried open the lid. The pungent air set free from the mess of fermenting corn smelled exactly like pineapples.
Shine couldn’t fill her lungs up fast enough. She had only ever savored one of the strange, spiky-headed fruits—- for Christmas one year, a rare treat in these parts—- but she had declared it “divine.” That sweetness in the escaping air was a good sign.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women

“The hills surrounding the cabin and fields turned colors, beginning with the bright red pops of leggy sassafras trees, bushy sumac and Virginia creeper vines that gave way to golden hickory, river birch and--- near the creek--- stately yellow cottonwoods. The oaks stubbornly held their leaves, yielding only a buttery brown before turning the color of old soil.
Likewise, the scrubby evergreens began to take on an orange cast as the fall wore on. And the cedar berries, which first appeared as clusters of green in compact cones, began ripening to the dusty deep hue of a blueberry.”
― Michelle Collins Anderson, The Moonshine Women