Word: forking
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...sound a vehicle makes as it drops into the mud is a kind of ominous smush. Some people find it so depressing that they try to avoid mud season altogether. Jackie and Al Wilder, who run the Fork Shop Restaurant in Brookfield, closed up in March and went all the way to Europe. "Nobody can get to us over the mud anyway," says Al. They came home expecting tulips and sunshine and found instead all the pipes in their house frozen. It's not nice to avoid Mother Nature...
...aproned waiters whisk in artichauts vinaigrette, the guests exchange amiable chitchat. Dark-haired August Walker Pelton regales the group with an anecdote about Princess Caroline of Monaco. "She tells me," he confides, "that when anyone in their family has elbows on the table, her grandmother jabs them with a fork." In the lull that follows, Bridget Dunham chews meditatively on her water goblet, picks her teeth, then dives under the table after her napkin. Garo Tokat loses a battle with his artichoke, which rockets off the plate and onto his lap. Tiffany Field, her ivory dress askew, is so absorbed...
...McCoy was sore at a Hatfield for stealing a razorback hog. Maybe he was angry at his daughter Rose Anne, pregnant by Johnse Hatfield after a frolic in 1880, for moving, unmarried, into the Hatfield compound. Or maybe the cause was the packs of Hatfields who crossed the Tug Fork and went swaggering around the Kentucky election grounds. Whatever the reason, the furies were unambiguously loosed on a whisky-sodden day 100 years ago next August. One of McCoy's sons taunted an unarmed Ellison Hatfield, and Ellison's riposte was intemperate and unprintable. Seventeen knife thrusts...
...lost her husband. It was sad for her." Dutch's cousin Belle Hatfield Pendergrast is 80, and full of a delighted sassiness about everything except the feud. Her father was indicted in Kentucky for a feud crime, and as long as he lived would never cross the Tug Fork...
Outsiders have always had a special appetite for the Tug Fork's bloody contretemps. Back in 1888, the New York World sent a reporter to have a look at the combatants. The World man's Barnum instincts were keen: he almost persuaded Devil Anse to decamp to New York City and charge gawkers $500 a week just to have a look at an authentic feudist, Winchester in hand...