Bob walked with Daisy on their way to church. It was Christmas Eve and folks were already milling about on the road on Sunday morning, also on their way to the services.
“So what are you gonna do?” She asked as they walked slowly up the road. She wore a winter dress and long cloth coat, with a scarf covering her head and ears.
Bob wore his best clothing — a pair of dress slacks, a white button— down Oxford shirt, freshly shined shoes, and a heavy cloth coat.
He walked with his hands in his coat pockets.
“I’m workin’ a lot at the paper now that football season is over,” Bob said.
“What about that man that wanted you to move up north to Illinois? The one that said he’d pay you to play football?” Daisy asked.
“I think Stump is actually thinking about leaving and taking a coaching job up there. I mean that Halas feller is a friend of his after all,” he said. “But that won’t last long. I can’t see anybody makin’ a livin’ playin’ football.”
“How does the paper pay?” She asked.
“Not near as good as I get on the farm but it is extra money for a few months,” Bob said.
“At least you ain’t diggin’ coal no more,” she said.
“That’s a fact,” he said.
“John’s wife seems nice. She’s a real pretty girl,” Daisy said.
“She’s a fine woman but she ain’t got nothin’ on you,” Bob said as she smiled briefly before it faded away just as quickly.
“How much longer do you think it’ll be Bob?” She asked.
“If I can save enough, I’m hoping sometime next summer,” he said.
Her eyes lit up.
“Really?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah. I figure I’ll have enough to pay rent on a place and I figure I can make enough on the farm for us to get by,” he said.
She shook her head in wonder.
“I can’t imagine livin’ in a town,” Daisy said.
Bob shook his head dismissively.
“Ain’t much different from livin’ here — just more people livin’ closer together,” he said.
They made it to the church and Bob hung her coat on a nail on the wall and hung his on a nail next to it. Dasiy made her way to the front of the church where Leonard Lane, one of the deacons, tossed some more coal in the pot-belly stove. A short, squat man with wavy brown hair, the 25 year-old Leonard was a coal miner.
“Merry Christmas Daisy,” he said with a friendly smile.
“Merry Christmas Leonard,” she said, returning the smile on her way to the pew where the rest of her family sat.
“Merry Christmas Bob,” Leonard said as he extended his hand.
“Merry Christmas Leonard,” Bob said, as he shook hands with the deacon.
“How’s life in town?” Leonard asked.
“Cold — ‘bout like it is here. How’s things at the mine?” Bob asked.
Leonard shook his head.
“Worse’an ever. They shortin’ us on timber. We got a lot of shaky tops. Tryin’ their best to keep from spendin’ any money that’d help a feller get out of that hole alive,” he said.
“Reckon they figure as long as they get their money it’s alright,” Bob said.
“Sounds ‘bout right. Ever run into any of them Milners in Crystal Springs?” Leonard asked.
“No, but I ain’t been lookin’ for any of ‘em either,” Bob said.
Leonard chuckled.
“Somebody shore run into one of ‘em here a while back. Remind me to tell you after church when they ain’t no women around,” he said.
Bob nodded went to the pew.
Henry Donald, the song leader stood up. A tall, slim balding man with a deep baritone voice, he picked up a hymnal. The little church had no piano or any other musical instruments.
“Since it’s Christmas Eve, I figured we’d start with “O Come All Ye Faithful,” he said.
Since the tiny church didn’t have hymnals for everybody — and a good number couldn’t read anyway, Henry spoke the words in an almost sing—song rapid fashion. “O come all ye faithful joyful and triumphant.”
The congregation sang the first stanza.
“O come ye o come ye to Bethlehem,” Henry said.
Again the congregation sang out.
Suddenly the door to church swung open and a young man nearly out of breath looked terror stricken. He gasped for enough air to speak.
Paul Stoddard, the pastor and longtime miner jumped to his feet.
“Luther Ray! This is the house of the Lord!” He said.
“I’m sorry preacher,” Luther Ray said. “But the mine...it caved in! They’s men trapped and they need all the help they kin git!”
For a couple of seconds a hush fell over the congregation. The pastor shook them back to the task at hand.
“Alright, here’s what we do. I want every one of you down here on the altar. We gonna pray and then every able bodied man is goin’ to the mine. The best thing you women folk can do is go home and start cookin’. Folks’ll be workin’ ‘round the clock and they’ll need to eat. Gather ‘round and hurry! Let us pray...”
Every man in the church – twenty—one all told – hurried to the mine. Almost all of them were or had been miners.
When they got to the mine, a crowd was gathered near the opening. Paul grabbed one of the men, Silas Silver, a foreman.
“Silas, what happened?” He asked.
“Cave in, number five — ‘bout a hundred and fifty yards back,” Silas said.
“How many?” Paul asked.
Silas opened his mouth and his eyes widened slightly, but the words wouldn’t come out.
Paul shook him angrily.
“How many men Silas?” He asked again.
“We think...thirty—three,” Silas said in a coarse whisper.
“Thirty—three? On Sunday? It’s Christmas Eve,” Paul said.
“The company...they’re pushin’ us for more. Boss brought in extra men so we could run a partial shift tomorrow,” Silas said.
“I don’t guess the Boss ordered any extra timber to shore it up back there did he?” Leonard asked.
“Timber? Don’t start stirrin’ up trouble Leonard. The Boss is in a bad way already,” Silas said.
“Bad way? How’s he in a bad way? How ‘bout them fellers stuck in the ground? Ain’t they the ones in a bad way?” Bob asked.
“Stay out of this Bob. You don’t work here no more,” Silas said.
“Where’s Milner at?” Bob asked.
“We need to worry about gettin’ done in there to them men,” Silas said.
“He’s right Bob. Let’s try to help them first,” Paul said.
Bob spat and nodded and the group wandered over closer to the shaft.
“They need more timbers!” A miner yelled as men started carrying timbers to the shaft car.
Everyone watched and waited as the car came back out and more timbers were loaded.
Bob looked over at Leonard.
“What was it you was gonna tell me earlier about one of the Milners?” He asked.
Leonard nodded for them to walk away from the crowd. When they were out of ear shot of the nervous throng, he spoke.
“Ever hear of Lee James Milner?” Leonard asked.
“Heard of him. Ain’t he the deputy that killed some people over in Fuson County?” Bob asked.
“Yep. Only now he’s a deputy in Evans County — or was until he got laughed off the job,” Leonard said.
Bob eyed him curiously.
“What do you mean?” He asked.
“The way I heard it was ol’ Lee James run upon a still and the feller who owned the still beat him like a mangy dog, took his badge and gun, and sent him an’ the sheriff both back to Silver Point bare ass naked,” Leonard said with a chuckle.
“You believe that?” Bob asked.
“Well, it’s common knowledge him and the sheriff came into town naked. Plenty of people saw them and I heard a bunch of people say they seen Lee James bleedin’ all over the place. Said it looked like somebody cut the blood out of ‘im with a switch,” Leonard said.
“What was the sheriff’s story?” Bob asked.
“He said they got jumped by a gang of coloreds from Tennessee,” Leonard said. “After that, Lee James got some drawers and went back to Crystal Springs.”
“Huh. Hadn’t heard ‘bout that. Anybody know who really did it?” Bob asked.
“Just a rumor but some people are sayin’ it was Ed Elkins. Other folks say it really was a gang of coloreds from Tennessee on their way north lookin’ for factory work. Me, I don’t care. I’m just happy to see a Milner take a good ass whuppin’,” Leonard said.
“They’re comin’ out,” a miner shouted. Bob and Leonard hurried back over to the mine opening.
Seven exhausted men stepped off on the platform.
“It’s no use,” said David Baggins, a miner Bob knew well. The mountain fell on them. Even if we could get to them, they’re all crushed,” he said.
Several men cursed aloud while a small gathering of women screamed and wept.
“Where’s the boss?” A miner called out and the man was soon joined by a chorus of men asking the same question.
Silas attempted to calm the mob.
“Now everybody just hold on. Ain’t gonna do nobody any good to have words with the boss,” he said.
“Be a suck if you want Silas but we all wanna hear from him,” Leonard said angrily.
“Thirty-three men just died here. The least he can do is come out and at least recognize it,” Paul said.
“I need a pencil and some paper,” Bob said to Leonard, who turned to another miner.
“Grab me that clip board in the car,” he said, pointing to the one near the opening.
Bob took it and started questioning David Baggins and others from the crew that attempted the rescue. Many were almost too overwrought with grief to talk. He also asked Leonard and other miners about the lack of adequate timbers used.
After about forty-five minutes, Joe Milner, son of the owner and superintendent of the mine emerged from his house in the camp. Surrounding him were four men armed with shotguns.
“We hate that this happened but it’s a chance every one of you takes when he goes underground. You know it and I know it,” Joe said.
“It didn’t have to happen!” One of the rescue crew yelled.
“If you would have give us the timbers we needed they would be alive,” another miner yelled out.
The armed men looked antsy as they eyed the angry mob.
“We’ll look into what caused the collapse, don’t you worry about that. Now, you all need to scatter. You can’t help anybody here,” Joe said.
“What about the men buried down there?” A miner called to a chorus of approval. Joe put up his hands for silence so that he could be heard.
“Y’all don’t need to be worryin’ about that right now. Leave that to the company. Just go on back to your homes. We got four other shafts to work,” he said a low murmur went through the crowd. “Now tomorrow is Christmas Day. We’ll get back to work Tuesday,” Joe said raising his voice over the crowd noise.
“What about the families? What are you gonna do for the families?” Bob yelled out and the throng roared again.
Joe looked perplexed. The crowd now bordered on a mob.
“The company will take care of the families,” he said tersely.
“How? What are you gonna do?” Bob asked.
“Leave that to us. It’s not your concern,” Joe said as the crowd cried out again in disgust.
“It’s the concern of every man that sets foot in one of your mines. What will you do for the families?” Bob asked, his blue eyes looking as though they were piercing into Joe’s very soul.
The mine boss swallowed hard.
“What’s your name?” Joe asked.
“Bob Fulton,” he answered.
“If you wanna keep workin’ here, you’ll mind your own business,” Joe said as several men guffawed, including Leonard.
“I’m not worried about my job. And it is my business and the business of everybody here. What are you gonna do for the families?” Bob repeated as the crowd roared even louder.
Joe’s lip curled into a snarl and his right hand clenched into a fist.
“Don’t bother comin’ back here Tuesday,” he said.
“Fine! Answer the question!” Bob shouted and got an even bigger cheer.
Joe was even more perplexed.
“We’ll handle it!” He said.
“How?” Bob asked again.
Now red faced, Joe trembled with anger.
“Get him out of here! Now!” He raged to one of the armed men.
As the shotgun—bearing man stepped toward Bob, a small crowd of miners carrying shovels and picks surrounded him. The bodyguard stopped cold and turned to look at Joe.
“Answer the question!” Leonard yelled from the back of the crowd.
“I’m tellin’ you all to leave now! Go home!” Joe roared. “Leave now or I’ll have all new crews in here Tuesday!”
After about thirty seconds of stillness and silence, Bob spoke.
“Let’s go boys. He gave us his answer!”
The group dispersed, grumbling and muttering.
Bob pulled the paper off and tossed the clipboard to the ground.
“I need to find a phone — and fast,” he said to Leonard.
“The train depot office is the closet one I know of, if they’re still open,” Leonard said.
“I’ve gotta get to town,” Bob said.
Leonard spotted an Elkins Dairy truck. He patted Bob on the arm.
“That might be a ride right yonder,” he said.
Bob ran over to the truck. The man and woman in the front seat next looked at him curiously.
“Are y’all goin’ to Silver Point?” Bob asked.
“That’s on the route the woman said. What do you need?” She asked.
“My name’s Bob Fulton and I need a ride to the train depot office,” he said.
The driver looked at him and nodded.
“You John’s brother?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” Bob said.
“Hop in,” the woman said. “Hill, get this man to town.”
“You got it Mae,” he said as he pulled out before Bob could get seated.
“I really appreciate it. If it wasn’t urgent, I wouldn’t ask,” Bob said.
“You’re John Fulton’s brother. You don’t have to thank us for anything. My name’s Mae Elkins. Your brother saved my daddy’s life back in ‘19,” she said.
“You’re Elmer’s daughter,” Bob said as she nodded. “And my name’s Hill Dunlap. Me and John went to France and back,” he said.
“John speaks well of both of you,” Bob said.
“He’s a fine feller,” Hill said.
“I hear he got married,” Mae said.
“Yeah, married a farm girl. Matter of fact, your cousin bought her family’s dairy farm a couple of years ago — Church Dairy in Crystal Springs,” Bob said. “And on top of that, I work there too.”
“That was one of Ed’s best buys. Probably our best supplier,” Mae said.
Bob nodded.
“We try our best,” he said.
“Pretty bad what happened back there to them miners,” Hill said.
“Yeah. It was. That’s why I need to get to town. I know a newspaper editor in Crystal Springs that’s dyin’ to get something on how the Milner family is treatin’ miners and the need for miners to unionize,” Bob held up his scrawled notes. “I’ve got the story here and what the Milners are gonna do for the families of the dead miners.”
“What are they gonna do?” Mae asked.
“Nothin’. Not a thing except maybe give’em a few extra days to clear out of the camp houses. Bastards,” Bob said.
“You got that right. Every one of them Milners need their asses nailed to a wall,” Hill said.
“Or chained to a tree,” Mae deadpanned.
Hill simply nodded and tried to hide a smile. Bob didn’t pursue the comment.
“I used to work in that mine. I know how they treat miners. It ain’t gonna get no better until the miners have rights protected by the law,” Bob said.
“You really think this newspaper feller can help?” Mae asked.
“Yeah, I do. He’ll try anyway,” Bob said.
“You probably already know this, but the Milners won’t forget about you if your name is tied to any of this,” Hill warned.
“Well, it is — or it likely will be. My name will go on the story. Besides, I already told Joe Milner my name,” Bob said.
“You be careful. They’ll want revenge,” Mae said.
Bob’s eyes burned.
“So do I,” he said.
The truck stopped in front of the depot and Bob ran inside. A couple of minutes later he placed call to the Crystal Springs Democrat. Bob patiently explained what happened and read his notes over the phone to Ray.
“You got a scoop kid. A big one. I’ll type this up and send to the wire services. This will go across the state. It might hit the big city papers in New York and Chicago before it’s said and done,” Ray said.
“Think it’ll help the union movement?” Bob asked.
“This will be Exhibit A in favor of organizing. If you don’t mind sticking around there a day or two more, I want a follow up. See if you can talk to any of the families and see exactly what the Milners are gonna do for them. And find out if the Milners are still cutting back on costs — get a reaction from miners about what they plan to do as far going back underground,” Ray said almost giddy.
“You want to see how interested they are in organizin’?” Bob asked.
“Yes I do. And be careful kid. This will cost the Milners some money and they won’t forget,” Ray said.
“So I’m told,” Bob said.
***
Ed sat in the parlor of his new house at Freeman Hollow. The rocking chair by the fireplace felt good on such a cold Christmas Eve night.
Mae helped Lucy finish decorating the freshly cut Christmas tree with strings of popcorn as Hill sat in a rocking chair across from Ed. Each man sipped on a special holiday toddy made from Canadian rum courtesy of Joe Kennedy.
“So Bob Fulton’s workin’ for a newspaper. Huh. Good for him. Beats the hell out of dyin’ in a mine,” Ed said.
“I never met him until he hitched a ride. Reminds me a lot of John though. Don’t seem like he’s scared of the Milners,” Hill said.
“Sounds a lot like John,” Ed said as he took a sip.
“Girls you really need to try this rum. It’s a nice change.”
Hill licked his lips.
“It ain’t bad at all,” Ed said.
Lucy just smiled.
“You know I don’t care for drinkin’,” she said.
“Not even for Christmas?” Ed asked.
“Especially for Christmas,” she said.
“I’ll try me a drink in a minute,” Mae said.
“Try one of these,” Ed said as he handed a cigar to Hill. “Al sent a box of these. Said they’re made in Cuba.”
Hill bit the end off and lit it.
“Mmmm. This is good. You ain’t smokin’?” He asked.
“You know I don’t smoke — but I appreciate the gift,” Ed said.
“Mind if I take one for later?” Hill asked.
“Take all you want,” Ed said.
“I can’t help but think about all those families and what an awful Christmas this is for them,” Lucy said as sat down on the floral pattern navy sofa.
“And it’s even worse knowin’ that the Milner family ain’t gonna help them,” Mae said.
“They’ll help them alright. They’ll help right out of their houses and put’em on the road,” Lucy said, the memory of her own eviction still painful.
Ed took a sip of his rum and pondered for a few seconds.
“You doin’ anything in the mornin’?” He asked Hill.
“Thought about maybe goin’ rabbit huntin’ but that’s about it,” he said.
“Rabbit huntin’ can wait. Get in touch with some of the boys. We’re gonna deliver some milk, butter, and eggs free of charge to the families of the dead miners. And I want them families stocked up real good,” Ed said.
“I’ll help,” Mae volunteered.
“So will I,” Lucy said.
“Good. I want you to send somebody up Maple Creek and pick up Bob Fulton. I want folks to know who’s helpin’ the miners and who ain’t,” Ed said.
“Well they already know about the Milners,” Hill said.
“And now they gonna know about our family. The Elkins name is gonna mean somethin’ more than moonshine,” Ed said.
“And you’re gonna make it mean somethin’ by givin’ away milk and eggs?” Mae asked.
“No, this is just the start,” Ed said.
The next day, Ed personally knocked on the door of each house of a grieving family, offered his condolences, and helped deliver milk, butter, and eggs to each house. Somewhere he had even managed to obtain hard candy, which he also distributed to the children. A few lucky miners even got a fat Cuban cigar.
Bob tagged along. He took notes and even helped unload supplies from the trucks. He noticed the looks of gratitude in the eyes of the widows. Bob also noticed that when no one was looking, Ed slipped each widow a ten-dollar bill and whispered apologies that it wasn’t more.
When the last house was visited, Bob pulled him aside.
“How much money did you give away today?” He asked.
Ed smiled softly.
“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention that Bob. Nobody but you an’ me an’ the fence post needs to know about that,” he said.
Bob nodded.
“Your money. You can do what you want to with it an’ I won’t say dog to nobody,” he said.
“Good. These folks are gonna have a hard enough time. People find out...they might feel a little less sorry for’em. What we did here brightens up today but they need help down the road,” Ed said.
“You have an idea in mind for that?” Bob asked.
“I do. I got a banker friend up north. He’s offered to show me how to set up a bank. I figure that will do more good for all the people of Evans County than a few days’ worth of food for a handful of widow women,” Ed said.
“That’s bound make some people mad,” Bob said.
“Yeah, but looks who’s talkin’,” Ed said.
Bob laughed.
“I reckon you’re right,” he said.
“Been meanin’ to ask, how’s John doin’?” Ed asked.
“Pretty good. He’s stayin’ busy and I guess that’s a good thing with a baby on the way,” Bob said.
“Yeah, I imagine so. I need to get over to Crystal Springs to see him,” Ed said.
“Would it be too much trouble to hop a ride to town so I can call this in to the paper?” Bob asked as he held up his notes.
“Come on by the house. I got a phone you can use and you can get some coffee. I’ll have one of the boys take you back to Maple Creek when you’re done,” Ed said as Bob nodded.
***
“Would you look at that? There’s Bob’s name on the front page of the Lexington newspaper,” Rachel said, impressed by the byline.
John grunted.
“I imagine people all over the state’s seen his name — includin’ the worst parts of the Milner family,” he said.
“They wouldn’t do anything to Bob. All he did was tell the truth about what he saw and heard on Christmas Eve. He was right to ask what the Milners are gonna do for all them families,” she said.
“He might’ve been right but the Milners won’t forget — not ever. There’s not much beyond their reach. And they believe in havin’ things their way,” John said.
“It’s not just Bob you’re worried about,” Rachel said.
“No, it’s not,” he admitted.
She stood from the table and not without a little difficulty. John stood to help her and she leaned in and embraced him.
“You’re the strongest man I’ve ever known. Bob’s doin’ the right thing and you know it. You can’t worry about what might happen. How many times have you told me that Dr. Fulton?” Rachel asked.
He kissed her.
“Sometimes I wish you wasn’t so blamed smart,” John said.
***
Ray sat behind his desk and was nearly giddy as he held up copies of Lexington and Louisville newspapers.
“Great work kid! Great work!” He said.
“Things folks said, they said ‘em. I just told you what they said,” Bob said quietly as he sat in a wooden chair in front of Ray’s desk.
“You got out of the way and let the story tell itself. That’s the hallmark of a good journalist,” Ray said.
“I don’t know about that. All I wanted to do was show people what miners are facin’ every day and what little they get in return,” Bob said.
“You sure did that. I got a phone call yesterday all the way from New York City. The editor of the Daily Tribune is offering to buy the exclusive your follow up articles to the mine disaster,” Ray said.
“You gonna sell it ‘em?” Bob asked.
Ray grinned and shook his head as he reached into the humidor on his desk and pulled out a cigar.
“No. I’d love to have the money but I’d rather see the wire services pick them up. More people will read them that way. These are stories that need to be read,” he said as he bit off the end of the cigar.
“I hope they will do some good,” Bob said.
Ray struck a match off of a large stone on his desk and lit the cigar.
“So do I and it remains to be seen if the braying jackasses in Frankfort and Washington are willing to step in but,” he said as he enjoyed a puff, “the union folks are suddenly real interested in Kentucky.”
“Good,” Bob said.
“You know, when I talked to you before Christmas about working for the paper that was only a part- time job. I figured I could use you to write up some of the local happenings — club meetings, new school teachers, and the like. But I want to tell you something. You’ve got talent Bob. You have a natural ability to tell a story in a way people can understand,” Ray said as Bob just listened, almost embarrassed by the praise.
“And I’ll tell you somethin’ else. As much as I want to keep you here working for me, you’re headed to bigger and better things. There’s not a doubt in my mind, you’ll got a job offer soon — probably from the Lexington Post or the Courier — even the Louisville Standard. And when you get that offer Bob, take it. It’s your ticket out of here and onto a better life,” Ray said.
Before Bob could respond, a noise on the front of the building.
“I want to see Bob Fulton and the fool that owns this sorry excuse for a newspaper!” A rough voice called out.
“Another satisfied customer!” Ray said cheerily as he stood up and walked around the desk. Bob followed him out of the office.
An angry man with a red face was berating Stan, the short, slender fifty-ish man who worked the front desk.
“What seems to be the problem?” Ray asked politely.
“Are you the owner?” The man, who towered over Ray, spat out the question.
“I am. My name is Raymond Ballew. And who are you?” He asked.
“Who I am ain’t important but them lies you and that lyin’ son of a bitch Fulton are spreadin’ is what’s important,” the man said. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. You gonna print a public apology to the Milner family and admit you lied about them and it’s gonna get printed in every paper that printed all that bullshit in the first place.”
“And what if we don’t?” Bob asked.
“What the hell is it to you?” The man asked.
“Let’s say I’m curious,” Bob said.
“Nosey bastard. Who the hell are you?” The man asked.
Bob stepped in front of Ray. He was an inch or two taller than the stranger and probably outweighed him by twenty pounds.
“I’m the man you’re lookin’ for. My name’s Bob Fulton. Now, why don’t you tell me what you plan to do when we tell you no,” he said.
The stranger turned a darker shade of red and pulled back his right fist. Before he could swing, Bob caught him with a solid left hook that dropped him. The man climbed to his knees and tried to shake the cobwebs from his head. Bob pulled him to his feet, picked him up, and slammed him into the wall. Holding him about six inches off of the floor Bob looked at the man gasping for air.
“Now. Who. Are. You?” He asked.
The man blinked.
“Lee James Milner,” he coughed as Bob released him and stepped back as he let Milner slide down the wall onto his knees again.
Ray’s eyes widened. He was well aware of Lee James’ reputation. Bob watched as Milner started to climb to his feet.
“Now you know my name and you’ve just bought trouble you can’t pay for boy,” he growled.
Bob gave him a cold smile.
“Let me tell you somethin’ gun thug. You better pray this man, this buildin’, or me don’t have any trouble. ‘Cause if we do, I’m comin’ after you. That ass whuppin’ you got from Ed Elkins’ll look like a church picnic next to what I’ll do to you,” he said.
Lee’s complexion was nearly purple.
Bob nodded.
“I know all about it. Now you march out of here and don’t show your face in here or around me again,” he said.
“I could kill you here,” Lee hissed.
“No you can’t. My back’s not turned,” Bob said.
Lee growled deeply and reached behind his back. He didn’t see John walk in behind him. As Lee pulled a pistol from his holster in the small of his back, he briefly felt the pain and pressure in the back of his head from John’s big right fist. He crumpled to the floor unconscious.
“Makin’ a new friend Bob?” John asked.
“Somethin’ like that,” Bob answered as he walked over and picked up the new Smith & Wesson .38 special that had fallen from Lee’s hand.
Ray was wide-eyed and barely breathing. He wheeled and went to his office and came back with a bottle and four glasses. He poured a shot for Stan, who grabbed it and gulped it down. Ray then poured Stan a second shot and he downed it as well. He poured one for himself and looked to Bob and John. They both shook their heads.
Ray then turned up the bottle as Stan downed the third glass.
“Better go easy on that. It’ll give you the blind staggers,” John said.
Ray set the bottle down and took a deep breath before taking another long pull. Stan started slapping the counter like a bar patron demanding another round.
“Last one,” Ray wheezed out as poured a fourth shot for the shaking office clerk.
“Thank you Ray,” Stan said as John helped him into a chair.
“Probably ought to hold onto that,” John said, nodding to the pistol in Bob’s hand.
Bob popped out the cylinder, emptied it of the bullets, and put them in his pocket.
“I think I will. I’ll drop in in the river later,” Bob said as placed the revolver on the desk behind the front counter.
“Me and Rachel are comin’ over to the farm for supper. I was just droppin’ by to tell you to not be late. She’ll have my hide if you are,” John said.
“I’ll be there. I just need to clean up here first,” Bob said.
“Need any help?” John asked.
“Me an’ Ray can handle it,” Bob said.
John nodded and looked to Ray, who still appeared to be in a state of shock.
“Make sure he gets some food in his stomach,” he said, gesturing to Stan. “A bite or two wouldn’t hurt you either Ray.”
After John left, Bob drug a very groggy Lee to his feet.
“You can walk out or I’ll throw you out. Either way, don’t come back here again,” Bob said.
“I want my gun,” Lee said, still trying to shake the cobwebs from his mind.
Bob shook his head.
“Be glad you’re leavin’ with the clothes on your back. Git while you can,” he said.
Lee looked at him in a combination of fear and hate but nevertheless, backed up and walked out. Ray stood up and walked over to Bob.
“I’ll say this for you and your brother, you men have guts,” he said.
“We was raised to push back when we got pushed,” Bob said.
“You certainly know how to do that,” Ray said.
“A-men,” said a wide—eyed Stan from his chair.
***
Jefferson Lee “Jeff” Milner paced back and forth in the parlor of his home. A man of average height and weight, he had dark brown hair streaked with gray and heavy dark brown eyebrows. His sons Lee and Joe as well as his son—in—law Russell Biddle sat silently and watched him. It was a cold and snowy February day.
“This is bad. This snow has shut down tracks all over the state. We don’t need this trouble. It’s been almost two months since the Newman cave—in and we’re still having trouble with the miners. Joe, if you and Russell can’t clean up this mess, I’ll find somebody who can,” Jeff said.
“I did what you said dad. I left the widows in company housing and gave five hundred dollars in company scrip for the commissary. They’re not satisfied with it — they’re greedy,” Joe complained.
“There was a time not too long ago when those women — and the miners — would have jumped at that offer. Too many people started telling them they deserved more and they started listening,” Jeff said.
“Damn newspapers,” Lee muttered.
“You took care of that problem so well,” Joe said.
“Shut up Joe!” Lee snapped.
“That’s enough, both of you. We need to figure this out, not fight each other,” Jeff said.
“It seems to me that we need to fight fire with fire,” Joe said.
“What do you mean?” Carlton asked.
“Newspapers created a lot of this trouble. Why can’t newspapers end it too?” Joe asked.
“Well, Lee tried to convince them and it didn’t work,” Russell said.
“Lee’s way didn’t work. Maybe we’ve going about this all wrong,” Joe said.
“I’m listening,” Jeff said.
“Have we tried to bribe the reporters? Better still, have we tried to just buy a newspaper? I mean it would be cheaper than giving in to the demands of the miners,” Joe said.
“That Ballew fella won’t sell his paper,” Lee said.
“Fuck him. What about the Silver Point Daily Record? That’s in Evans County. We can buy that paper and refute reports from outsiders,” Joe said.
“The problem is Fulton. He’s from Evans County. Hell, he worked for us in the Newman mine. The people know he’s not an outsider,” Jeff said.
“We circulate the story that he’s just mad at us because we fired him and he’s trying to get even. And we can say he’s on the union payroll,” Joe said.
“Hurt his name, hurt his influence with the miners. I like it,” Jeff said.
“But what do we do with the widows?” Russell asked.
“Start getting rid of them a few at a time. We can get the sheriff to arrest a few of them for theft or even prostitution so we can legally evict them. And start firing miners who want a union. If they strike, hire scabs. And if they try to stop the scabs, then Lee and his friends can legally protect our employees,” Joe said. “We’ll have our own newspaper to defend or actions and those of the sheriff.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, it’s not a bad idea,” Lee said as Russell nodded.
“As soon as you can get back to Silver Point, buy that paper,” Jeff said.
***
Bob sat at the kitchen table of the Church home staring out at the snow-covered farm. In front of him was a note pad. Marlene walked into the kitchen.
“Workin’ on another story?” She asked as she pulled the coffee pot off of the stove and filled a plain off—white porcelain cup. “Coffee?”
“Yes, ma’am, thank you,” Bob said. “I’m goin’ over my notes about the trains stopped by the snow,” he said as she placed a cup of steaming cup in front of him.
Marlene smiled as she put the coffee pot back on the stove.
“You really like writin’ for the paper. Well, you ought to — you do a fine job,” she said.
“Thank you. And you’re right, I like it just fine,” he said.
“You’re not gonna be with us on the farm for much longer are you?” Marlene asked as Adam walked into the kitchen.
Bob cleared his throat.
“Well, to be honest with both of you, I’ll probably move out later in the spring. You both know I’m plannin’ on gettin’ married,” he said.
Marlene reached over and patted his hand.
“You deserve to be happy,” she said. “But we’ll miss you here.”
“That’s a fact,” Adam said.
“I’m sure the Elkins family will send another farm hand,” Bob said.
“It ain’t just the help with the farm we’ll miss,” Adam said.
“We’ll miss seein’ you and talkin’ to you every day. Havin’ you here was like havin’ another child in the house,” Marlene said.
“You got a grandbaby on the way. You won’t miss me,” Bob said with a grin.
“We’re lookin’ forward to that baby but we’ll still miss you, just like we miss Rachel,” Marlene said.
“We’ll be expectin’ you to visit from time to time,” Adam said.
“I won’t be too far away. I’ll be livin’ in town for a little bit anyway after we get married,” Bob said.
“I’ll be sure to keep a few biscuits in the warmer for you,” Marlene said.
Bob smiled and nodded.
“You know there’s talk about runnin’ electricty out in the county in the next couple of years. Might not need a warmer,” he said.
“Electricity here?” Marlene asked in wonder.
“Yeah, you could get one of them electric stoves,” Bob said.
“I don’t know ‘bout that. It wouldn’t be safe,” Adam said.
“What do you mean?” Bob asked.
“I’d be afraid that ‘lectricity would get in the food. Probably ruin the cornbread,” Adam said as Marlene frowned.
Bob shook his head and smiled slightly.
“I think it’d be alright. I expect the cornbread could take it pretty good and not hurt anybody,” Bob said.
***
Ed sat in his favorite rocking chair near the fireplace. He was reading the Lexington Courier. Lucy sat sewing a quilt. It was her favorite pastime and ideal for a snowy winter day.
They were happy in the silence. They appreciated their quiet hours together. That peace was disturbed by a knock on the door.
Lucy started to stand but Ed got to his feet first and held up his hand for her to remain seated. He walked across the hard wood floor and into the foyer to answer the door.
“Come on in. You’ll freeze to death out there,” Ed said as Hill and Mae walked in.
Lucy brightened.
“Come sit by the fire and warm up. I’ll put on a pot of coffee,” she said.
“Lucy, it’s gettin’ on in the day, maybe they wanna stay for supper,” Ed said.
“We don’t wanna put y’all out,” Hill said.
“You ain’t puttin’ nobody out. We all gotta eat. You might as well have supper with us,” Lucy said.
“Well at least let me help,” Mae said as she and Lucy retreated to the kitchen.
“Get a seat Hill. You’re makin’ me nervous pacin’ around like that,” Ed said as he returned to his rocker.
Hill sat down but Ed could tell he was agitated.
He looked down at the folded newspaper and back to Hill. Ed figured if he wanted to talk about it he would say something — if not, it wasn’t his business anyway.
“Tell me somethin’. Can you get a truck into Silver Point in the mornin’?” Ed asked.
“If we can’t, I can always hitch up the mules to a wagon. Might take longer and be a damn sight colder, but we’d get there,” Hill said.
Ed nodded.
“I’ve got an idea about something that might help us out,” he said.
Hill still distracted, looked over to Ed.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” He asked.
“Durin’ one of visits with Kennedy, he pointed out somethin’ to me. The man who has the press on his side is a powerful man,” Ed said.
“Makes sense. You plan on makin’ buddies with the newspapers?” Hill asked.
Ed smiled.
“Even better. I plan on buyin’ one or two — maybe more if they make money,” Ed said.
“What do you know about runnin’ a newspaper?” Hill asked.
“Not a damn thing. But what did I know about the dairy business?” Ed asked.
“Yeah, but that was a front for the moonshine,” Hill countered.
“But it’s still a money maker and besides, what better protection could we have than to let politicians know we can hurt them?” Ed asked.
Hill twisted his head.
“Well, you’ve got a point,” Hill said.
“Besides, I wouldn’t run a newspaper. I’d hire somebody that knew what they were doin’ to run it for me. It’s like Mae runnin’ the dairy or you handlin’ the delivery and shippin’ of our products. I didn’t know the bankin’ business either, but I got people there too,” Ed said.
“You mean get somebody like Bob Fulton to run your paper?” Hill asked.
“The thought crossed my mind,” Ed said.
“He strikes me as bein’ a lot like John. He’d work hard and do a good job but he’d do what he thought was right. You wouldn’t have a lot of control,” Hill said.
It was Ed’s turn to twist his head sideways.
“You got a point too,” Ed said. “I could always hire Bob to work at a paper for somebody I can control.”
“That makes more sense to me — not that I know much about it,” Hill said.
“No, I think you’re right. Anyway, I want to get to town tomorrow and see if I can buy the paper in Silver Point,” Ed said.
“I’ll get you there,” Hill said as he pulled out a cigar and bit the tip off. He spat it into the fire and struck a match to light the cigar.
Ed rocked back and looked around the room.
“When we was in France, I’d never dreamed one day we’d be sittin’ here like this,” Ed said.
Hill shook his head.
“Me neither. But there is somethin’ on my mind I want to talk to you about,” Hill said.
“Yeah? What is it?” Ed asked.
“Well, you know me and Mae have been sorta courtin’ for some time now,” Hill said.
“It ain’t been a well—kept secret,” Ed said.
“But...well, me an’ her wanna get married,” Hill said.
“Alright,” Ed said.
“I hate to ask. But I don’t want to start a marriage on her money or Elmer’s,” Hill said.
Ed held up a huge right hand.
“How much you need?” He asked.
“It would just be a loan and I’ll pay you back quick as I can. I’ll sign a note,” Hill said.
“You’ll shit. You’ve been with me from the get—go. Anything you get, you’ve already earned. No loans and no damn notes. Now, whaddya need?” Ed asked.
“I figure a thousand dollars would do it. The Jenkins place is up for sale. House, barn, and ten good acres,” Hill said.
“Tell you what, I’ll give you two thousand just in case the house or barn has a leak,” Ed said.
“I don’t know what to say Ed,” Hill said.
“You don’t need to say anything. Let’s go see if Mae’s broke the news to Lucy yet,” Ed said.
***
Three days later, Jeff Milner sat behind his desk at his office in Crystal Springs. Lee and Russell sat in the office with him, each smoking cigarettes. Jeff picked up the earpiece on the second ring and held the cylinder— shaped object to his ear. He spoke onto the mouthpiece in his left hand.
“Jefferson Milner,” he said.
“Uh, I’ve got bad news dad. We can’t but the newspaper here,” Joe said.
Jeff’s fingers gripped the telephone in his left hand so hard his knuckles turned white.
“What do you mean ‘we can’t buy it’?” He asked
“Exactly that. Someone bought the newspaper in Silver Point two days ago. I also heard the new owner also bought newspapers in Harlan and Middlesboro,” Joe explained.
“Who bought it?” Jeff asked.
“The fella’s name is Elkins. Ed Elkins. He owns Elkins Dairy and a bank in Silver Point,” Joe said.
“I’ve heard of him. Isn’t he a moonshiner?” Jeff asked as Lee’s head jerked toward his father.
“Nobody’s ever been able to prove it,” Joe said.
“Then maybe it’s time we introduced this Elkins fella to a little Milner persuasion,” Jeff said as he looked to a now wide—eyed Lee.
“Dad if you’re thinking of using Lee, a lot of people claim Elkins was the one who gave Lee the beating,” Joe said.
“I’ve heard the rumors too but I have confidence in your brother and the rest of you. We need to put this man in his place so he’ll know where he stands on the food chain,” Jeff said.
“What do you have in mind?” Joe asked.
“When you get back to Crystal Springs we’ll talk. Hurry home,” Jeff said as he placed the earpiece on the side of the telephone.
Lee looked to him.
“Let me take care of him,” he said with an almost growl.
“I don’t want him killed — not yet anyway. I want to make an example of him. I want the miners and everybody else to know who runs the show in this part of the state. Before we’re through with this Elkins guy, he’ll beg you to kill him Lee,” Jeff said as both grinned.
***
In 1924, March saw winter one day and spring the next in Southeastern Kentucky. The sun shone brightly and the remnants of a three-inch snowfall gradually melted away from the rusty tin roof on Elmer’s house.
Though he now had more money than he could have ever imagined, Elmer still preferred his simple lifestyle — no telephone, no silly radio, and no wish for electricity. A roof that didn’t leak much and a good outhouse suited Elmer just fine.
Being a Wednesday, Mae had already been by his place to make sure he had plenty of food and firewood.
Ed would drop by later as he usually did to talk with him and let him know about any new stills or problems they might be facing. He also dropped off a bag of cash each week. Elmer always squirreled it away in a safe place.
He didn’t care if Ed owned a bank or not. Banks got robbed — a carefully hidden hole dug in his root cellar didn’t.
He walked back from the outhouse feeling a couple of pounds lighter than he did when he left the house a few minutes earlier.
“Damn hard-boiled eggs,” he muttered to himself as walked back toward the house.
Elmer caught sight of a movement on his porch. He stopped and placed his hand inside the right pocket of his overalls. Elmer carried a Navy Colt .32 revolver at all times. With his hand on the pistol, he eased around his house to the front porch. It was empty and the house was quiet save for the sound of melting snow dripping from the roof.
He looked at the front door. It was closed. Hesitating, Elmer stepped up on the porch and walked to the door. He went inside. A man was sitting in his rocking chair by the pot—belly stove.
“Nice place you have here,” the stranger said.
“I like it. Who the hell are you?” Elmer asked.
“I’m a friend of your nephew. And I’d feel a whole better if you took your hand out of your pocket,” the man said.
“And he means real slow,” said another man who stepped out of the kitchen with a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun aimed at his chest.
He was a tall, thin man with a large hawk—like nose and narrow gray eyes. His blonde hair was slicked back with pomade and he wore a cheap brown suit and a matching overcoat.
Elmer pulled his hand from his pocket empty.
“What do you want?” Elmer asked.
The stranger in the rocker smiled.
“We want you to relay a message to your nephew,” he said.
Elmer’s eyes narrowed.
“And what’s the message?” He asked.
“That you don’t fuck with Lee James Milner,” he said coldly.
Elmer cocked his head and smiled. The smile turned to a chuckle and the chuckle into outright laughter. Lee smoldered as his face grew dark with crimson.
“So you’re the feller that took the ass whuppin’,” Elmer howled as Lee’s face twitched.
He lunged at the old man and slammed him against the wall. Lee smiled as he heard air escape from Elmer’s lungs. He then started punching Elmer repeatedly as the heavy blows landed with enough force to his ribs and head to keep him pinned to the wall.
“You’re gonna kill him,” the man with the shotgun said.
Lee kept punching.
“That’s — unnnh — the general idea Charlie,” he grunted.
As Lee tired, Elmer’s unconscious body slipped to the floor. Lee stepped back, breathing heavily and smiling.
“Dammit! Is he still breathin’? You didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout killin’ nobody! We was only supposed to scare an old man!” Said Charlie Jason.
“Relax Charlie. Your pay’s the same. Shit! He’s still breathin’,” Lee said as he pulled a knife from his pocket.
“This is just murder Lee! Just like when you shot that moonshiner in the back! Your daddy’s gonna have a shit hemorrhage over this!” Charlie said with wide eyes.
“I’m gonna drag him outside. Bust a coupla of lamps and burn this shithole down. And don’t worry about my father. This was his idea,” Lee said.
“What are you gonna do?” Charlie asked.
“Don’t worry about it. You just do what I’m tellin’ you,” Lee said as he opened the door and grabbed the battered body to drag outside.
Charlie did as he was told and started breaking lamps and pouring oil all over the floors and wall. After he broke the fourth lamp, he picked up a piece of firewood and dipped the end in some of the oil. He opened the stove and lit the wood. Charlie then tossed the flaming the torch across the room.
Flames climbed the wall as Charlie closed the door behind and hurried off of the porch. He looked at Lee who stood over the bleeding body of an old dead man. The blade of the knife in Lee’s right hand dripped with blood.
The old man was prone on his back. His throat had been slit from ear to ear and there was a gaping hole in the center of his chest.
Charlie looked to Lee again and saw something that made him start to throw up immediately. In his left hand, Lee held the old man’s heart.
As Charlie wretched, flames shot out of the windows of the house. Lee casually tossed the still warm heart into the fully engulfed house.
“Message sent,” Lee said.
As Elmer’s house burned, five Elkins Dairy trucks made its way to Middlesboro. They were each loaded with moonshine. Their destination was a garage on 20th Street where two larger trucks and their drivers waited for them. The two trucks were scheduled to leave for Chicago as soon as the liquor was off—loaded from the dairy trucks.
Each of the dairy trucks had a driver and an extra man in the cab to help with the unloading and loading of the product. Young Willie Webb drove the third truck. His job was to carry the daily payment back to his boss, Hill, who ordinarily would be the one in the third truck.
The 17-year old was thrilled at the trust placed in him and his passenger, Ernie Kelly, knew it.
Where Willie was a skinny kid, Ernie was a burly veteran of the Great War. He lived through the battles in France and survived the Spanish influenza outbreak on his transport ship, thanks largely to his old friend John Fulton.
Ernie carried a Model 1911 Colt .45 semi—automatic pistol in a shoulder holster. He didn’t anticipate trouble but kept his right hand free to reach for his weapon just the same.
The trucks followed a winding, narrow road across Fonde Mountain to get to Middlesboro. After the caravan crested the mountain the lead truck abruptly stopped.
Willie slammed on the brakes causing Ernie to jerk forward into the windshield.
“Damn son! You tryin’ to kill me?” He asked angrily as Willie pointed to the stationary vehicles in front of them.”
“That son of a bitch Nolan just come to a dead stop,” he said, pointing to the first truck.
Frowning, Ernie looked from Willie to the lead vehicle. His expression changed from anger to concern.
“I don’t like this,” Ernie said as he scanned the wooded hills outside his window.
A bullet pinged into the hood of the truck from the woods.
“Out!” Ernie yelled as he pushed Willie out of the driver’s side.
Willie hit the ground with a thud. He looked to complain and saw a stranger with a shotgun leveled at him. Before Willie could react, a loud report rang out and the stranger’s head exploded in blood as Ernie bounded from the truck.
Another man with a shotgun came from the right and Ernie dropped him too with a shot to the center of the chest. He didn’t see the gunman behind him who fired a shotgun blast into his back. It pushed him forward on top of Willie, who was too scared to speak or move. Ernie slid the pistol into Willie’s hand.
“Run kid,” he gasped.
Willie saw the gunman coming for him. He raised the .45 and fired. The gun jerked violently in his hand and the sound was deafening. The gunman tumbled backward as blood exploded from his chest.
Willie didn’t take the time to stare as he scrambled off the side of the road and down the embankment, running, falling, rolling, and up and running again. Buckshot and bullets whistled around him. A few pellets burned into his left shoulder as he hurried into the heavily wooded area. Willie hurt all over. The buckshot hurt but so did the briar scratches and bruises he incurred during his escape.
He could hear what he imagined war would sound like — constant gunfire and explosions rocked the mountainside. Willie kept running until he got to the bottom of the mountain and found a farmhouse in the distance.
***
Mae and Lucy sat in the parlor talking about the upcoming wedding. Lucy would be the maid of honor and Ed would be best man.
“You know, with both of y’all in the weddin’ it might give Ed some ideas,” Mae said with a playful grin.
Lucy just shook her head and smiled softly. Her dark eyes did not reflect any humor.
“I’ve learned one thing: If Ed don’t come up with the idea, he won’t use it. Besides, we’re both happy. If we ever got married it might spoil things,” she said.
Mae frowned.
“You don’t really believe that. One of these days my cousin will wake up and realize what he’s got and see that he don’t want to lose it,” Mae said.
Lucy started to answer but stopped.
“Did you hear that?” She asked.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Mae said as a Lucy stood up and walked toward the window.
“It came from the direction of the barn,” Lucy said as she pulled the curtains back and looked to the barn. Mae joined her.
“There!” Lucy yelled as she spotted a man running from the barn through the field behind it. He was running for the county road across the creek on the back side of the Elkins property. She started out and Mae grabbed her.
“There might be more than one,” she said.
Lucy found the Remington 12 gauge pump shotgun over the fireplace.
“Ed keeps a .38 in the right hand desk drawer,” Lucy said, nodding to the roll top desk in the corner.
Mae walked over and retrieved it.
“I’m ready,” she said as they walked out the door toward the barn. Off in the distance to the east, pillars of black smoke hung in the sky. Both noticed it but walked on silently.
“Let me go first. If there’s somebody else in there, use that cannon. We’ll find out who they are later,” Mae said as Lucy nodded.
Lucy was scared but this wasn’t as bad as the night her father died. When a drunken family friend came over to check on her and her mother. The bastard wound up beating her mother half to death and raping her. He was a foreman with the Milner Coal Company and to call the sheriff or to complain to management would have been a waste of time.
She knew fear but she also learned to protect herself.
Lucy raised the shotgun as Mae walked into the barn. Mae walked slowly as went from stall to stall. All were empty until she got to the last stall, the one where Ed kept a prize bull he had recently purchased. She gasped loud enough for Lucy to hear.
“What is it?” Lucy asked.
Mae looked back to her wide-eyed.
“It’s Ed’s new bull. Somebody killed it and gutted it,” she said.
Lucy trembled. She felt bile rise in her throat.
“Why would they kill the bull?” She asked.
Mae shook her head.
“Don’t know. I’m guessin’ Ed’s made somebody mad,” she said.
As if speaking his name would conjure him up, Ed’s car rolled to a stop in front of the house. He had spent the morning the western side of Evans County checking on his stills there while Hill had spent his day in Silver Point waiting for money to be delivered from Middlesboro to stash in the bank vault.
Ed saw the women and noticed they were armed. He hopped out of the Ford with his Colt Model 1911 drawn. Ed sprinted toward the barn.
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
“Somebody killed and gutted your bull,” Mae said.
“What?” Ed asked and Lucy explained about seeing the man running from the barn.
“Did you see his face?” Ed asked.
“He was too far away,” Lucy said.
Ed holstered his .45 and took the shotgun from Lucy.
“Let’s go back to the house. I’ll call some of the boys to handle this. From now on, I’ll keep a guard here at the house,” Ed said as they walked back up toward the house.
“This was a message,” Mae said.
“I know,” Ed said.
“Who could you have made that mad?” Lucy asked.
Ed laughed bitterly.
“Any number of people,” he said.
As they stepped up on the wraparound porch, they saw one of the dairy trucks speeding toward the house. Hill was driving. He jumped out of the truck and hurried over to the porch. Still standing in the yard, he looked to the trio a couple feet above him on the porch. Hill was pale. Ed and Mae both knew something was wrong.
Hill opened his mouth to speak.
Ed gave him a stern look.
“What is it?” He asked.
Hill shook his head.
“I-I’ve got some bad news and I hate to be the one to tell you,” Hill said.
“Well tell us dammit,” Ed said.
“It’s Elmer...he’s dead,” Hill said as Mae screamed.
Lucy embraced her tightly as the screams melted into sobs.
Ed froze. His expression did not change.
“How?” He asked.
Hill looked at Mae and shook his head.
“Ed...I don’t know that I should say right now,” Hill said.
“Tell me,” Ed growled.
“Mae, let’s go inside,” Lucy said as she tried to usher her away. Mae shook her head and pulled free of the embrace.
“Just tell us Hill,” she said as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
Hill exhaled sharply.
“Murdered. Somebody beat him real bad and cut his throat. And...they, uh...cut out his heart,” he said.
Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth in horror as Mae dropped to her knees. Hill ran up on the porch and fell to his knees next to her. He wrapped his arms around her.
“And they burned the house. It was still burning when I left,” Hill said as he looked up to Ed, who still hadn’t moved but the color had drained from his face.
“Coroner been out yet?” Ed asked.
“Not that I know of but the sheriff and a couple of deputies are there,” Hill said.
“Stay with them. I’ll be back afterwhile,” Ed said as he walked toward his car.
“I wanna go,” Mae said.
“No. He wouldn’t want you to see him like that and it won’t help you a bit either,” Ed said.
“What’re you gonna do?” Lucy asked.
“Talk to that sorry ass excuse for a sheriff for starters,” Ed said he opened his car door.
***
Jeff sat in his office and waited impatiently. He couldn’t get any work done because he couldn’t focus. As darkness started to descend on Crystal Springs, Lee walked in.
“Did you get to the old man,” Jeff asked.
“Let’s put it this way. We have Ed Elkins’ attention,” Lee said.
Jeff took out his pipe and packed the bowl with tobacco. He nodded and lit the lit the pipe.
“Good, good,” he said between puffs.
Joe walked in. His face was pale and his eyes were wide with shock. He looked at Lee.
“What did you do?” Joe asked.
“Exactly what I told him to do. I wanted to put some fear in Elkins. I believe that’s been done,” Jeff said as Lee politely nodded.
“I’m sure it has,” he said.
“How many people were killed?” Joe asked.
“It really don’t matter,” Lee said.
“Don’t matter? Are you insane? You think the law won’t come after us after something like this? Cutting a man’s heart out of his chest — that’s just crazy, even for you. We don’t have the clout to cover this up,” Joe said incredulously.
“The law will be occupied with other matters,” Jeff said.
“Other matters?” Joe asked.
“I placed a call to our friend Congressman Wilton. Thanks to a request from his office, U.S. Attorney Gibson Luttrell has promised to investigate and if possible, indict and convict Ed Elkins for his bootlegging and other illegal activities,” Jeff said with a satisfied smile. “I’m sure Mr. Luttrell will find that Elkins murdered his own uncle before all is said and done.”
“Heh. Maybe he ought to arrest that Indian whore he lives with,” Lee said with a laugh.
“Hmmm. More of a message than killing a bull,” Jeff said.
“You really think this will put Elkins in his place? You think he won’t come after this family?” Joe asked.
“What’s he going to do? If he tries anything, he’ll go to prison for a long time,” Jeff said.
“If he lives to see prison,” Lee said.
***
John awoke to someone pounding on his door. Rachel started to get up.
“Stay here. Let me see who it is,” John said as he slipped on his pants.
He turned on the porch light and answered the door. A frantic looking man stared back at him.
“Are you Doc Fulton?” The man asked.
“Yes I am. What’s the problem?” John asked.
“It’s my wife. She’s real sick and she hurts a lot,” the man said.
“Where is she?” John asked.
“She’s in the car,” the man said pointing to a Ford sedan parked in the street.
“Let’s go take a look,” John said as he walked out of the house. “What’s her name?”
“Susan. Susan Rogers. I’m her husband, Junior,” the man said.
John reached the car and opened the door.
The woman was pale and obviously in pain. Her black hair was cut in a flapper-style and she had green eyes. Even wracked with pain, she was a beautiful woman.
“Miz Rogers, I’m Dr. Fulton. Tell me where you’re hurtin’,” he said.
“My right side. Feels like a knife...uhhhhh...stickin’ me,” she said.
John placed his left hand on her forehead.
“You’re burnin’ up. Have you been vomittin’?” He asked.
“Yes. Uhhhhh...most of the day,” she said.
“She’s been dry heavin’ the past coupla hours,” Junior said.
“I’m sorry to do this, but does this hurt?” John asked as he pressed against her lower right abdomen.
Susan screamed in agony.
Rachel stood on the porch watching. John shouted to her.
“Call Cat! Have him meet me at the office and be ready for emergency surgery! I’ll be back later!” He said as she disappeared into the house.
“Mr. Rogers, I need you to drive as quick you can. Get us to my office. Your wife needs surgery as soon as possible. It looks like her appendix is inflamed and in danger of rupturin’,” John said as he climbed into the back seat.
Less than five minutes later John had the door open before the car stopped rolling. He ran to the office door and unlocked it. He stepped inside just long enough to flip on the light switch before returning to the car.
“Miz Rogers,” John began.
“Susan. Please call me Susan,” she gasped through the pain.
“Alright. Then you might as well call me John. We’re about to get real familiar,” he said as he turned to Junior. “Help me carry her inside.”
They got inside just as Cat and Victoria walked.
“What’s going on John?” Cat asked as he took off his coat and handed it to Victoria.
John gave him a run—down of the symptoms as Victoria placed a thermometer in Susan’s mouth.
“Her fever is 102,” Victoria said.
“It’s her appendix alright. Prep her for surgery and roll her into our operating room,” Cat said to Victoria.
John noticed Junior shifting nervously. He was quiet but agitated.
“It’s a common surgery. Try not to worry,” John said.
Junior looked at the floor and then away from John.
“I don’t have much money Doc,” he said just above a whisper.
John smiled warmly.
“That’s okay Junior. I don’t either. We’re not worried about that. Your wife is the only thing we’re thinking of right now,” he said.
“Son, the best thing you can do is go get a seat in the waiting room and we’ll let you know when it’s over. If you’ve got cigarettes go ahead and smoke. It’ll help pass the time,” Cat said as John ushered Junior back out to the waiting room.
“Come on John. Let’s scrub up,” Cat said.
A few minutes later John made the incision.
“Damn shame we don’t have a hospital in this town,” Cat muttered as he monitored the anesthesia.
“You’re preaching to the choir dear,” Victoria said.
“Look at that,” John said when he saw the appendix.
Cat shook his head.
“They almost waited too long. Another couple of hours and it would’ve been too late,” he said.
“She’s lucky,” John said.
“She’s going to need a couple of days to recover,” Victoria said.
“When we’re finished here, take her to Room 3,” Cat said to Victoria. “If we had a hospital...,” he let the sentence trail off.
“If we had a hospital, we’d likely have more doctors and nurses. And just as likely, one or both of us would be sleepin’ right now,” John said.
“Exactly,” Cat agreed.
“But, right now we’re all Crystal Springs has,” John said as he removed the appendix.
“That’s good work there John. But you’re right — we’re all Crystal Springs has, at least right now,” Cat said.
John looked over to him. Though the mask covered his mouth and nose, he could see Cat’s eyes.
“You know somethin’ I don’t?” John asked.
“Not really. Just an idea I have. I’m thinkin’ of bringing some of those bright young men from the medical school down here. Maybe get one or two at a time to do their residency here. Maybe we can get a couple to stay,” Cat said.
“And if we ever get a hospital, we’ll have a staff ready,” John said.
“Something like that, yes. What do you think?” Cat asked.
“Sounds like a fine idea — if you can get some of them young doctors to come here,” John said.
“I figure that’ll be easy. I’ll send you up there. You know more than a few people up there,” Cat said.
John chuckled.
“That I do but that won’t get a hospital built,” he said.
“No, but if a certain fella who writes for a Lexington paper did a story on the poor folks in Crystal Springs who need a hospital, maybe the county and the state would get off their asses and do something,” Cat said.
John chuckled again.
“I’ll call Bob. I’m sure he’d love any excuse to come back to Crystal Springs,” he said.
About a half-hour later, John emerged from the operating room and found a still agitated Junior smoking. From the looks of the ashtray he’d been smoking quite a bit. Where he saw John, he jumped to his feet.
“How’s Susan?” He asked.
“She’s fine. She’s gonna be alright but we’ll to keep her here for a couple of days to help her recover. We’ll keep somebody with her in case she needs anything,” John said.
“Can I see her?” Junior asked.
“Yeah, but she’s still asleep and likely will be for a couple of more hours,” John said.
“Doc...I don’t know how to thank you or even how I’ll pay you,” Junior said, in relieved gratitude.
“You just pay what you can, when you can,” John said.
***
Ed stood in the parlor of his home as three deputies and five agents of the Treasury Department marched into the house after Lucy opened the door. Following them was a short, squat man with slicked back graying brown hair and thick eyebrows. He had a wide nose, heavy jowls, and an under bite that reminded one of a bulldog. His eyes brown eyes were seemingly perpetually squinting.
“Mr. Elkins, I’m U.S. Attorney Gibson P. Luttrell and I have a warrant to search these premises and the surrounding property for illegal liquor and/or instruments and components to make illegal liquor,” he said in a quick, staccato fashion as he handed folded papers to Ed.
“Search all you want. Just don’t tear up nothin’ you can’t pay for,” Ed said as Lucy retreated from the door to his side.
“Rest assured you will be arrested if we find anything illegal. I also have warrants to search all of your properties — including your bank, Elkins Dairy and all of the farms which supply it, and your newspapers. Treasury agents will also examine all of your holdings in the stock market,” Luttrell said again as Ed looked up and saw something that made his blood boil.
“What’s that asshole doin’ here?” He asked as Lee James Milner strolled into the house.
“I’ve appointed Mr. Milner as special investigator to assist in this matter. He assures me he can find your illicit bootlegging operation,” Luttrell said.
“Nice house,” Lee said with an ugly grin. “Fella would probably get this real cheap at public auction.”
Ed looked at him.
“I made you a promise and I’m a man of my word,” he said.
“Are you threatening a federal investigator?” Lee asked.
Ed smiled and looked at Lucy and then Luttrell.
“The gun thug has a short memory...among other things,” he said as Lucy laughed out loud.
Lee turned red and a menacing look crossed his face.
“I wouldn’t laugh sweetheart. When he’s in prison he’ll have plenty of time to think about all of the things I’ll be doing to you under this very roof. Hell, I might just charge a few friends to join me. I hear you’re used to it,” he sneered.
Lucy fell silent as the rage now flashed in Ed’s eyes. He looked at Luttrell.
“Number one, you have no friends and number two, this man just threatened her,” Ed said.
“I heard no threat,” Luttrell said.
After two hours of turning the house upside down, the agents found nothing incriminating on the house or on the property. They left the house a shambles with closets and chests emptied onto the floor, mattresses and tables overturned, and even a few dishes broken.
As the agents started to leave, Luttrell turned around and looked at Ed.
“We’ll be back real soon. You can’t hide everything,” he said.
“I’ll be here,” Ed said in a friendly tone.
When they left, the seething rage boiled to the surface.
“Before this is done, I’ll kill both of them,” Ed said.
“No.” Lucky said softly. “They want you to come after them. That’s how they plan to trap you. You’ve got to be patient and wait for them to make a mistake.”
“They’ve cut our income to the bone and sealed us off from Al in Chicago and Joe in Boston. I don’t know what we’re gonna do,” Ed said.
“You outsmart them like you always do,” she said.
“How?” He asked.
“You’ll think of somethin’. Just be patient. We’ve both had a lot less than what we have now. We’ll be okay,” Lucy said.
Ed embraced her and said nothing as the wheels in his head turned.