Moonshine, Coal, and Hope

by Richard Allen Evans

  “I didn’t — everybody else did so much of the cookin’,” Rachel said.

  “We’re just glad to be part of this,” Lucy said.

  “Growin’ up, we didn’t have meals like this with family and friends. This is really nice,” Mae said.

  “It is good for everybody to get together,” Daisy said.

  Rachel smiled.

  “It’s good for John to see Bob and Ed. He hadn’t had much time to visit with folks over the past few months,” she said.

  “It’s good for Ed to get together with his friends talk about something other than business for a change,” Lucy said.

  Daisy shook her head and laughed as she dried a plate.

  “If Bob’s talking I’ll guarantee you they might not be talkin’ business but they are talkin’ politics and that’s pretty close to the same thing,” she said.

  On the porch Bob rolled a cigarette while John lit one up. Hill went with Adam to take a look at the new car the Church family recently purchased.

  “How’s things at the paper?” John asked as Ed sat down in a cane bottom chair.

  “You askin’ me or Ed?” Bob asked.

  “You know more about it than me. Only thing I can tell you is it’s showin’ a profit — like all of our papers,” Ed said.

  “Bad news sells huh?” John asked.

  Ed chuckled.

  “Any other kind these days?”

  Bob struck a match and lit his cigarette.

  “Not all the news is bad. Looks like the Milners are going to be forced to negotiate with the union. Ol’ Jeff must be rolling over in his grave,” Bob said.

  Ed nodded.

  “Let’s just hope Hoover’s depression has cost them enough money so they can’t afford any more strikebreakers,” he said.

  “Cryin’ ass shame what happened to that bunch of strikebreakers over in Whitley County,” John said as he looked at Ed.

  “Yes it was. It is a violent time we’re livin’ in boys,” Ed said.

  “Police in Kentucky and Tennessee are baffled — no leads at all, just a few carloads of dead thugs,” Bob said.

  “Yeah, I read your story. Good job by the way. Made me feel like I was right there,” Ed said.

  “I ‘ppreciate it,” Bob said as he took a puff on his cigarette.

  “Me, I’m wonderin’ just when this violence is gonna end,” John said.

  “Me too. Hopefully it’s startin’ to wind down. I understand that feller that’s running the Milner Mines is willing to talk to the union. Maybe that’ll help,” Ed said.

  “As long as they don’t try to bring in more strikebreakers but I heard from a little bird that they’ve been in touch with some folks up north about bringing more crews in to fight the strikers,” Bob said.

  Ed looked surprised.

  “And where up north were they coming from?” He asked.

  “Allegedly from Chicago and Detroit,” Bob said.

  “Don’t you have a friend in Chicago?” John asked.

  Ed laughed.

  “I have friends everywhere but yeah, I have a friend up there. Maybe I should call him up see what he knows,” he said.

  “Might avoid more bloodshed in the future,” John said.

  “I suppose it could — if there’s anything that I can do, I will,” Ed said.

  “This has to stop somewhere. You have money and a real future. Don’t throw it away. The Milners are done. Let it die,” John said.

  Ed shook his head.

  “Lee’s still out there somewhere. It won’t be over until me or him is dead,” he said.

  There was an awkward silence for a few seconds as John and Ed looked at each other.

  Bob coughed.

  “Well, I think me and Daisy’s gonna stick around here for a few days. I want to keep an eye on the negotiations — it’ll be huge news if the most anti—union coal company in Kentucky bargains in good faith. Besides, it’ll give Daisy a chance to spend some time with Rachel and Ginny,” he said.

  “Sounds like a fine idea,” Ed said as John nodded.

  Hill and Adam walked back up onto the porch.

  As Hill passed Ed he whispered, “Jay stopped by a minute ago. The kid made it back. Al agreed.”

  Ed’s mouth upturned ever so slightly.

  “Good,” he said quietly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Junior drove toward the Milner estate while Jack sat next to him and fidgeted with a wrinkled telegram.

  “I’d rather take an ass whuppin’ than to deliver this message. Mr. Biddle ain’t gonna like this — not a bit,” he said.

  “How do you know it’s bad news? It ain’t even been opened,” Junior pointed out.

  “A telegram is never good news. I just have a bad feeling about this,” Jack said.

  “Ain’t your fault. You’re just bringin’ the bad news — if it is bad news,” Junior said.

  Jack smirked. Although Junior had been with the Milner family for several years he did not have the confidence of the Milner family. He suddenly realized that both Russell and Lee would be there. Jack remembered he also knew Lee’s secret and given his temper, anything Russell said or did would be mild in comparison. The smirk faded quickly.

  “You look kinda pale. You okay Jack?” Junior asked.

  “Y—yeah, must be heartburn or something,” he answered.

  “If I need to pull over let me know. Mr. Biddle is particular about this car. He’s more like Mr. Milner than Lee or Joe ever was,” Junior said.

  “I’ll be okay. Let’s just get there and get it over with,” Jack said.

  The rest of the brief ride was quiet with Junior content to drive and Jack stewing about the telegram.

  After they pulled around the circle driveway, Jack hopped out of the Chevrolet while it was still rolling. He hurried to the front door and pounded on it, ignoring the doorbell. The butler opened the door with a look of distaste.

  “I need to see Mr. Biddle. It’s urgent,” Jack said holding up the telegram as if to prove the veracity of his statement.

  The butler stepped back and gestured Jack into the house.

  “Where is he?” Jack asked.

  “The library,” the butler answered.

  Jack hurried toward the large room on the second floor. He was nearly out of breath when he walked into the room. Russell was sitting on the red padded sofa holding a saucer and a cup.

  Lee sat at the desk with a cup of coffee in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

  “This was sent to the office this morning,” Jack said as he held up the telegram.

  Russell looked to Lee, who nodded.

  “Give it to me,” Russell said as Jack quickly handed him the telegram.

  As his brother-in-law tore open the envelope, Lee took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled. “Well? What’s it say?” He asked.

  Russell grimaced and wadded the telegram with one hand.

  “Leave! Now!” He said to Jack, who gratefully retreated and closed the library door on his way out.

  Lee calmly took a sip of coffee.

  “I take it you’re not happy,” he said.

  “They’re not coming,” Russell said, his voice just above a raspy whisper.

  “The strikebreakers?” Lee asked.

  “A courier is on his way with the money we offered. They’ve refused to get involved,” Russell said. “Is our money no good?”

  Lee stubbed out his cigarette in a square amber colored ashtray and leaned back.

  “Elkins. Has to be him. He’s connected to that Capone fella in Chicago. Elkins stopped your strike breakers,” Lee said with a calm that gave Russell a cold chill.

  “When will he have enough revenge?” Russell asked.

  “Never, when it comes to this family,” Lee said.

  “What do we do now?” Russell asked.

  “What we should have done all along. We declare war on Elkins himself — not his business dealings, not his organization, not his family. Him. We take care of him once a
nd for all. That will solve a lot of our problems,” Lee said.

  “Do you have someone in mind for the job?” Russell asked.

  “I’ll do it myself. I’ll take care of Elkins,” Lee said.

  Russell simply looked at him.

  “When?” He asked.

  “Ain’t there supposed to be a big union rally tonight over at Newman?” Lee asked.

  “Yes. Some of the big shots from the union are going to be there. That means a lot of security and if Elkins is there you know he’ll have plenty himself,” Russell said.

  “I ain’t worried about that. They don’t know this face,” Lee said.

  “Not yet. But if you do this, they will. And you’ll be on the run again — if you can get away without being gunned down yourself. There’s got to be a better way,” Russell said.

  Lee thought for a couple of minutes. He looked to the corner of the room to the gun rack where his father’s shotguns and rifles were stored. With Russell watching him, he stood up and walked across the hard wood floor and lifted the .50 caliber Henry rifle out of the rack. Lee smiled.

  “I have a better idea. Get Jack back in here,” he said.

  ***

  “Cotton’s on his way down from Lexington. He’s gonna meet us at the train station in Silver Point,” Bob said as replaced the earpiece on the telephone on the wall.

  “The rally gonna be that big?” John asked, looking over top of the morning paper.

  “Looks like it might be the biggest union rally in Kentucky history. People coming out of the woodwork to see Milner Mining sit down at the bargaining table,” Bob said.

  “I know Ed and Hill are looking forward to it,” John said.

  “You ought to come too. You know what it’s like to work for them and the conditions they have,” Bob said.

  “I’d like to but...,” John’s voice trailed off as he looked to the kitchen where Rachel sat talking with Daisy and Trish.

  “She wouldn’t be alone,” Bob said.

  “I know and she would be in good hands. But I do have patients to see to and two of them are pregnant. It wouldn’t do for them to go into labor and me all the way over in Newman. No, I’d better stick around here. ‘Sides, I’ll just read all about in your paper,” John said.

  “Ed’s paper. I just work there to annoy the rich people and politicians,” Bob said.

  John nodded.

  “I’ve noticed they’ve turned you loose writing columns. You’re giving Mr. Hoover and his party pure hell. I don’t know who likes to make more enemies, you or Ed,” John said.

  Bob laughed.

  “I’m just tryin’ to tell folks the truth and if it’ll help put a Democrat in the White House, so much the better,” he said.

  “I’ll say this: You make some sense. A lot more than the congressmen old man Milner bought and paid over the years,” John said.

  “If the Democrats nominate a halfway decent candidate they’ll take that seat from the Republicans,” Bob said.

  John pulled out a cigarette. He looked at it.

  “I’ve been thinking ‘bout taking up smoking a pipe. Rachel likes the smell of pipe tobacco,” John said.

  Bob pulled out a rolling paper and filled it with tobacco.

  “I tried a pipe for a while. Didn’t like it. Couldn’t taste the tobacco,” he said.

  John nodded again.

  “I wanna ask you something. You think Ed will let this thing with the Milners go after tonight?” He asked.

  Bob struck a match and lit his cigarette. The smell of sulfur and tobacco filled the air.

  “You’d know better than me. What do you think?” He asked.

  “He won’t quit until he finds Lee. Ed thinks Lee killed Elmer and my guess is he’s right,” John said.

  “That’s what I think too,” Bob said.

  “Ever hear anything about the search for Lee?” John asked.

  Bob shook his head.

  “Nothing. The law is still looking but the bureau boys have gone back to Washington. Once that Dewey fella convicted Joe they lost interest in Lee,” he said.

  “He’ll turn back up. He hates Ed as much as Ed hates him. I’ll guess one of them will solve the problem sooner or later,” John said.

  “I imagine you’re right but I think it’ll be a long time before we see Lee again,” Bob said.

  “Maybe so,” John said.

  ***

  “I’m leavin’ some of the boys here with you and Mae tonight,” Ed said as he looked over from his rocking chair to Lucy who sat in a rocking chair near the fireplace in their living room.

  “I think the troubles are over now,” she said with a smile. “But it does make me feel better.”

  “The kid is goin’ with me to the rally with me and Hill,” Ed said. “We gonna hand out some groceries to the families of the striking miners.”

  “That’s a fine thing for you do. Them folks need the help and you’ve helped them for a long time,” Lucy said.

  Ed stood and walked over by the fire. He held his hands out to warm himself.

  “These folks you’re talkin’ about treated my family like dirt when I was growin’ up. We was just no account moonshiners. I didn’t think much about it until I went into the Army. Everybody got treated the same. For the first time in my life I was just like everybody else. I made up my mind in France if I made it back from the war I was gonna make my name mean something. And I did. Yeah, we got our start bootleggin’ but we made legit money too. We gave people jobs and didn’t do it over their bodies the way the Milners did. And now people ‘round here know what the name Elkins means,” he said.

  “And they know what the name Milner means too,” Lucy said.

  “And tonight they’ll find out the Milners are done making slaves out of people. They’ll find that out tonight,” Ed said.

  ***

  Russell and Lee sat in the mining office. Lee popped the cylinder out and double—checked the ammunition in his .38 special.

  “So Jack liked your plan?” Russell asked.

  Lee chuckled.

  “Loved it — especially the part about the money and being set for life,” he said.

  “Do you think he’ll actually do it?” Russell asked.

  “Jack might be an idiot but he’s an idiot who can be bought. I proved that when I got him to help fix that football game. He’ll do it alright,” Lee said.

  “The man is a simpleton. I don’t even know how he got into college to begin with,” Russell said.

  “I take it Southern Kentucky College ain’t exactly like the University of Kentucky,” Lee said.

  “Hardly — if Jack is any proof of their standards,” Russell said.

  Lee popped the cylinder of the revolver back into place.

  “As long as Jack can follow orders for a couple of more hours or so, that’s all that matters,” he said.

  “And Junior — is he clear on where he should be?” Russell asked.

  “Stop worrying like a mother hen. Damn, you’re almost as bad as Joe,” Lee said.

  Russell walked over to the window and looked outside.

  “You do know that I went to see him in Georgia a couple of months,” he said.

  Lee nodded.

  “I figured you would,” he said.

  “He looked bad. He’s lost a bunch of weight,” Russell said.

  “Figures. Joe never was strong,” Lee said.

  “I’m still working on getting him an early parole or his sentence commuted. He’ll never last in there long enough to pull all of his time,” Russell said.

  “Commuted? Hoover has bigger fish to fry these days. And I don’t think we have enough money these days to get to the President,” Lee said dismissively.

  “I think maybe we do but it will be expensive. We also have a couple of Congressmen and a U.S. Senator in West Virginia who might be receptive to us. The politicians we had in our pockets in Kentucky wouldn’t dare get involved,” Russell said.

  “You mean the ones who ain�
��t quit or been arrested?” Lee asked sarcastically.

  “He’s your brother Lee. Don’t you care?” Russell asked.

  “Care? It’s his fault this shit came down to begin with. Our family lost half of its money and almost all of our political influence not to mention causing my father’s death and costing me my face. Oh, I care alright and right now what I care most about is killing that bastard Elkins,” Lee said bitterly.

  Russell reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a gold pocket watch.

  “Quarter after. Are you ready?” He asked.

  Lee grinned and slid the revolver into his shoulder holster on his left side.

  “Oh yeah, I’m ready,” he said as he stood and picked up his gray snap brim fedora.

  ***

  Bob and Cotton stood near the wagons as the crowd milled about. Bob saw plenty of familiar faces and exchanged greetings and well wishes with many of them. Cotton took an occasional photo and watched Bob.

  “You plannin’ on running for office?” Cotton asked.

  “No. Why in the world would you ask me somethin’ like that?” Bob asked.

  “The way you’re smilin’ and shakin’ hands I just figured you was electioneerin’,” Cotton said with a laugh.

  Bob grinned.

  “I’ve known a lot of these people all my life — some of ‘em are even family,” he said.

  “And they still claim you?” Cotton asked.

  “‘Fraid so,” Bob said. “They even claim ol’ John.”

  “That I can understand, him bein’ an upstandin’ doctor and all. You on the other hand,” Cotton just shook his head.

  Bob offered another crooked grin.

  “I see your point — asshole,” he said.

  Cotton laughed. Before he could respond he saw the crowd turning to look in the other direction. Walking toward the wagon was Ed, his right hand man Hill, a younger man wearing a long trench coat with a demeanor far too serious for his age, and two smiling men in dark suits.

  “That’s the union guys with Ed and Hill,” Bob said.

  “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Ed’s running for office,” Cotton said.

  When the group arrived at the wagons they were met by the local elected organizing committee. After the initial introductions and pleasantries, R. J. “Wah” Wallace acted as the spokesman for the local committee.

  Wah was a tall, lanky man with thick brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and high cheekbones. Cotton noticed he bore a striking resemblance to Abraham Lincoln — until he started to speak.