Moonshine, Coal, and Hope

by Richard Allen Evans

  “I figured you could use it,” she said as she handed him the glass.

  “Thank you, I could indeed,” John said.

  “We really appreciate everything you’ve done for daddy and he might never say it, but he appreciates it too,” she said as she sat down on a bale of hay.

  “What good is a doctor if he can’t help his patients?” He asked as he looked at her smiling face. John couldn’t help but notice how nicely she filled out the simple pale green dress.

  “Bob said you fought in the war,” Rachel said.

  John nodded.

  “That must’ve been awful,” she said.

  Again, he nodded wordlessly.

  “Is that when you found out you wanted to be a doctor?” Rachel asked.

  “Pretty much. I was the medic for our outfit — not that it did much good most of the time. There’s not much you can do for a man after he’s had a dose of mustard gas or been shot up by a machine gun,” John said.

  “Bob said you helped save a lot of lives during the influenza outbreak, includin’ the man that bought our farm,” she said.

  “I don’t know how much I helped but he’s a friend of mine. We grew up together and made it through the war...I just couldn’t stand the thought of goin’ through all that and then dyin’ on a ship on the way home,” John said.

  “I guess not. But you saw the world. Me, I ain’t been out of Fuson County but a couple of times in my whole life — and I didn’t even leave Kentucky either time,” Rachel said.

  “You ain’t missin’ much. I’d take Kentucky over Paris and New York any day,” John said. “Far as that goes, I’d take Crystal Springs over Louisville and Lexington from what little I’ve seen of each of them.”

  “Don’t you ever get tired of seein’ the same things and the same people day in and day out?” She asked.

  John offered a slight smile.

  “Not if I saw you every day,” he said.

  Rachel blushed a little and then laughed.

  “Well, I could say the same thing about you John,” she said.

  “Would you mind if I asked your daddy about callin’ on you Rachel?” He asked.

  Her smile was radiant.

  “Mind? I’ll be mad if you don’t,” she said.

  ***

  Ed and Hill helped load a truck of moonshine.

  “This is the last truck today. We’ll be back next week. Do you think you can make enough to fill a coupla more trucks?” Al asked.

  “Yeah. Shouldn’t be a problem. I’m gettin’ a few more stills up and runnin’ in the next few days. Give me a month and I can fill three times as many trucks.

  Al smiled and there was a gleam in his eyes. When he was happy, one didn’t notice the ugly scar down the left side of his face nearly as much. “Listen Ed, I’m thinking about moving to Chicago and I’ll need as much as you can supply. We’re having a much harder time getting the Canadian liquor across the border. This might just be the ticket to helping out my friends in Chicago,” Al said.

  “Just let me know. We’ll make as much as you want to buy,” Ed said.

  Al grinned.

  “Good. That’s what I like to hear,” he said as he handed a bag full of cash to Ed. “Feel free to count it.”

  “No need. I trust you. You’ve always kept your word,” Ed said.

  “That’s why I like doin’ business with you Ed. We have a mutual trust. By the way, my people in New York want you to meet with a friend of theirs from Boston. He’s due in on the Middlesboro train from Louisville tomorrow. He wants to start buying from you as well,” Al said.

  “Sounds fine. Boston money spends as good as New York money. What the man’s name?” Ed asked.

  “Kennedy. Joe Kennedy. He’s supposed to be some kind of big shot banker if you can believe that,” Al said.

  “Sounds about right. Bankers usually know where the money’s at,” Ed said.

  Al laughed.

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way but you’re right,” Al said.

  The next day Ed wore his best suit to meet the train in Middlesboro. Hill — also dressed in his finest — accompanied him. When the conductor stepped off of the train, Ed asked him if he could point out a passenger from Boston.

  The conductor pointed to a well—dressed man in round glasses with slicked down hair, which was neatly parted in the middle.

  Ed approached him.

  “Mr. Kennedy, I’m Ed Elkins of Elkins Dairy Farms,” he said with his hand extended.

  “Nice to meet you Ed. Please call me Joe,” Kennedy said with a smile that revealed a mouth filled with almost too many teeth.

  “I can drive you over to the Four Seasons if you’d like. You can get settled in and we can meet if you want,” Ed said.

  “That sounds like a grand idea,” Joe said as Ed nodded for Hill to carry Kennedy’s luggage.

  As they traveled the short drive from the depot to the hotel in nearby Harrogate, Tennessee, Joe looked over to Ed, who rode in the backseat with him.

  “Tell me, Ed, is there any available women looking for a good time around here?” He asked.

  “Plenty. What are you in the mood for?” Ed asked.

  “I like blondes,” Joe said.

  “After we drop you off at the hotel, Hill will go pick up a girl for you. You’ll like Frankie,” Ed said.

  “Frankie? That sounds like a man,” Joe said.

  “Her name’s Francine but I call her Frankie. Trust me, she’s all woman,” Ed said.

  Joe grinned and nodded in satisfaction.

  “Why don’t we meet for dinner in the hotel at say, seven o’clock? We can talk business while we eat,” Joe said.

  “That sounds fine Joe,” Ed said.

  Three hours later Ed walked into the Four Seasons restaurant. Hill remained in the car waiting. Ed didn’t wait for the maître de, he walked to Joe’s table.

  Joe stood and shook his hand.

  “Ed! Good to see you,” he said as they both sat down.

  “I hope you’ve rested up from your trip,” Ed said.

  Joe’s eyes twinkled as he grinned.

  “I must say your recommendation of Frankie was an excellent one. You’re right. She is all woman,” he said.

  “She’s yours for the night if you’d like,” Ed said.

  “Wonderful!” Joe added, his full grin beaming. “Now let’s order dinner and get down to, ah, business.”

  The waiter approached the table.

  “I’ll have a steak, baked potato, and whatever fresh vegetable is in season. And a cold glass of milk to drink,” Joe said.

  “Bring me the same, except I’ll have coffee to drink,” Ed said as the waiter nodded curtly and walked away.

  Joe looked to Ed suspiciously.

  “Did he seem queer (it came out as qu-whee-uh) to you?” He asked.

  Ed nodded and laughed.

  “I was thinkin’ the same thing,” he said. Ed liked this funny talking Bostonian.

  When they were finished laughing, Joe looked to Ed.

  “I understand we have some mutual friends in New York,” he said.

  “We do,” Ed said.

  “I’m told your...dairy...supplies a good portion of their business,” Joe said.

  “They’ve been good folks to do business with — we’ve made money with’em,” Ed said.

  “Would you be open to considering a similar arrangement with me?” Joe asked.

  Ed shrugged.

  “As long as your money spends we can do business Joe,” Ed said.

  Joe smiled but not the grin he offered earlier. It was more cold and calculating.

  “You have a firm grasp of the business world. You’d be amazed at how many people at Harvard (it sounded as if he said Have-ad) do not understand such a simple principal,” Joe said.

  “All I know is money talks and bullshit walks,” Ed said.

  Joe laughed heartily.

  “I’ll have to remember to share that with some of the fellows on Wall Street
. You invest in the stock market Ed?”

  “No, don’t really trust bankers — no offense,” Ed said.

  Joe smiled.

  “I don’t either. But there’s money to be made. The market is booming right now,” he said.

  “How much money?” Ed asked.

  Joe grinned.

  “Millions my friend, millions. And if you’re willing to trust me and put up some money, I can guarantee you’ll make more money in the stock market than you could in ten lifetimes in the, uh, dairy business,” Joe said.

  “I’m listening’,” Ed said with a small grin.

  ***

  “And if you elect me sheriff, I’ll run the bootleggers out of Evans County. People need to understand that dry means dry. Prohibition is the law of the land. The decent people of this country have spoken. It’s time to end the nonsense,” said Clyde Ward, the Republican nominee for sheriff.

  He stood on top of an automobile on a corner across from the courthouse in Silver Point among a crowd of well— wishers. An angry looking man with dark brown hair and a red face stood behind him with his arms crossed and a nickel—plated Smith & Wesson .38 special openly displayed.

  Ed and Hill stood on the other side of the street watching and listening.

  “I see you out there Ed Elkins. You might think you’re foolin’ people with that dairy business of yours but we all know better, don’t we folks?” Ward said to the cheers of the fifty or so people gathered.

  “Pick on somebody else Clyde! I’m an honest businessman!” Ed said as the angry looking man behind Ward glared at him.

  “We all know about your business and your Uncle Elmer too!” Ward screamed.

  Ed took a step toward Ward and as Hill grabbed him and pulled him back, the angry man took a step toward Ed.

  “Let’s go Ed. You can’t fight him here,” Hill said quietly.

  “Why don’t you go to hell Clyde? And kiss my ass on the way!” Ed yelled as the women in the crowd gasped.

  The angry man headed toward Ed at double time.

  He looked at Hill.

  “Get him out of here now before I lose my temper,” the angry man hissed.

  “You can kiss my ass on your way to hell too!” Ed yelled as Hill drug him back.

  “I’ll get you Elkins. I can’t wait to slap you in cuffs and parade you and your white trash uncle in front of this whole county,” the angry man said, his face suddenly more purple than red.

  “Let’s go Ed. Now ain’t the time,” Hill said as Ed calmed down and nodded.

  “You’re right Hill. We’ve got business to take of,” he said.

  “Just remember Elkins: I’m comin’ for you! I’m comin’ for all of you lawbreakin’ bootleggers!” The angry man exclaimed as the crowd cheered and Ed and Hill walked away.

  “Who was that bastard with the pistol?” Ed asked.

  “Lee James Milner. He used to be a deputy over in Fuson County. I hear tell he killed five men. He lost his job ‘cause a lot of people think he just murdered a moonshiner. Clyde paid him off to come work for him as a bodyguard,” Hill said.

  “And if Clyde gets elected sheriff he’ll make his pet bulldog a deputy,” Ed said.

  “That’s what folks figure,” Hill said.

  “He seems like a real mean man,” Ed said.

  “That’s what I hear,” Hill said.

  “Milner? He related to the asshole that owns the mine in Newman?” Ed asked.

  “His son,” Hill said.

  “You got all kinds of information,” Ed said.

  “Pays to listen, that’s all,” Hill said.

  ***

  Summer passed quickly as Bob spent the hot months working at the farm and saving money. The Church family took him in as one of their own. He still made it back to Maple Creek a couple of times each month to see Daisy.

  John spent more than his share of time at the farm too.

  For the first time in his life, he was in love. The fair Rachel loved him too so the summer nights with her on the porch swing were the sweetest moments he had ever known.

  One night in late August they were sitting together on the swing looking at distant lightning in the warm sky.

  “School’s gonna start back soon. You won’t be out here as much,” Rachel said sadly.

  “I know. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout that,” John said.

  “Don’t tell me you’re lookin’ forward to gettin’ away from me,” Rachel said with the smile that made his heart flutter.

  John shook his head.

  “No, I’ve been dreadin’ it. But I think I’ve got a solution to the problem,” he said.

  Rachel stopped the gentle swinging.

  “What is it?” She asked. “You’re not quittin’ school if that’s what you’re thinkin’,” she said.

  “I ain’t quittin’ school. I’m too close to bein’ done with college and well, Cat says I need maybe a year of medical school now to get a degree,” he said.

  “Then tell me what you’re talkin’ about,” Rachel said.

  “Now before you start floggin’ me like a mother hen, listen to me. I think the answer might be if you an’ me was to get married,” John said.

  “Do what?” Rachel blurted out.

  “Get married, I mean if you want to,” he said.

  “Are you askin’ or are you tellin’?” Rachel said.

  “I’m askin’. Rachel, will you marry me?” John asked.

  She looked confused.

  “I...you...I...yeah, I reckon I will,” she said as she leaned into him. “You got all the romance of an old mule, you know that don’t you?”

  “All I know is I love you Rachel,” he said as he pulled her into an embrace.

  “And I love you too – romance or not,” Rachel said. “But you better ask Daddy first.”

  ***

  A few weeks before classes began, Bob paid a call on the administration office to make an advanced payment before the fall semester started. As he strolled by a large field on his way back to the Church farm, he saw a crowd of young men about his age. They were dressed in an odd assortment of gear — long—sleeved shirts, shoes that looked like baseball spikes, and leather helmets.

  He stopped and stared at them for a few seconds.

  “You like football?” Said a voice from behind.

  Bob turned and there stood a short barrel-chested man with curly dark hair.

  “I’ve heared, uh, heard of it, but I ain’t never seen it played,” Bob said.

  The short man smiled.

  “You’re a big guy. Think you might like to try it?” He asked.

  “Me? Football? Mister, I told you I don’t know nothin’ about it,” Bob said.

  “Not much to it really. If you’d like to come by tomorrow about this time, I’d be happy to teach you the game. You are a student here right?” The man asked.

  “Yeah. Just finished my freshman year. Does that matter?” Bob asked.

  “Well you have to be enrolled to play for the college team. My name is John Dalton. Most people call me Stump — probably because I’m built like one. I’m the coach of the team,” he said as he extended his hand.

  “Bob Fulton,” Bob said as he shook the man’s hand. He noticed the firm grip.

  “So you think you’ll give it a try tomorrow?” Stump asked. “Look, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to play. But I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  “Let me talk to my boss and make sure I can take the time off,” Bob said.

  “That’s fine Bob. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow,” Stump said.

  Later, Bob talked to Adam about going to practice.

  “Football huh? Well, if the coach asked you himself he’s got a pretty good idea you can cut it. I don’t see nothin’ wrong with it. You might want to talk it over with John first but you’re always done with your chores before then anyway,” Adam said.

  “Seems like a fool thing to do, bunch o’ boys knockin’ each other down but if you want to try it, it’s alright
by me,” John said later.

  Bob arrived at the field house the next morning and Stump was grinning.

  “Glad to see you made it. Let’s get you into a uniform and some pads,” he said as Bob followed him into the equipment room.

  The smell of stale sweat smelled as bad as any barn Bob had ever set foot in. There was also another strong odor — lineament. Stump patiently explained to Bob how to put on the pads and the helmet.

  “Are you from around here Bob?” Stump asked.

  “Evans County. How about you?” Bob asked.

  Stump grinned.

  “Me? I’m from Chicago. I was in the navy during the war. I played some football before the war and we had teams at the base in Maryland. Since I had experience with the game the guys made me a coach. When the war was over, one of the muckety-muck admirals asked me to stay on and help coach the Navy team at Annapolis. One of the fellows I served with is a professor here. He wrote me last year and said they wanted to start a team so here I am — a guy that talks funny in the middle of these hills teaching country boys to play football,” Stump said.

  Bob simply nodded as they walked outside to where the rest of the squad was gathered.

  “Boys, this is Bob Fulton. We’re going to give him a try at guard,” Stump said.

  A player who stood a head shorter than Bob stepped up and extended his hand.

  “I’m Scooter Barkley, I’m the quarterback and this here’s Josh Daggett, our center,” he said as Bob shook hands with both of them.

  Blonde haired and blue eyed, Scooter couldn’t have weighed more than 160 pounds soaking wet but Josh was another story. He was about an inch taller than Bob and weighed a solid 220 pounds. Josh had light brown hair, hazel eyes, and an ugly arrowhead—shaped scar on his chin.

  “Let’s get to work boys. Scooter, take the boys out and run about ten laps. Josh, you stay here. I want you to help me teach Bob how to be a lineman,” Stump said.

  “You heard the man! Let’s go! C’mon, follow me boys!” Scooter said as he jogged to the far sidelines.

  “Now, this is what is called a three-point stance,” Stump said he got in a stance. All linemen use this stance. Get down here like me,” Stump said. “Good, good — attaboy.”