“We figured I’d get up and interduce you fellers and youins can say whatever ye gotta say ‘fore we git down to what we here fer,” Wah said in a deep and gruff voice.
National treasurer Gary Celzcek nodded.
“I’ll be happy to address the group and introduce our national vice-president, French Simpson,” he said. “And after Mr. Simpson speaks, he’ll introduce our friend Mr. Elkins.”
“Sounds good to me,” Wah said, now looking worried.
Bob grabbed his arm and leaned into speak to him.
“These are your friends and neighbors Wah. No need to be nervous,” he said.
Wah nodded and looked at him doubtfully.
“I live buh myself Bob and I ain’t got that many friends,” he said.
Bob stepped back and laughed.
“Woooo! Go get’em Wah!” He yelled and the clearly shaky climbed onto the bed of the wagon and the other planned speakers followed suit.
Cotton looked to Bob and shook his head with a laugh. They heard the crowd murmuring and saw the mob part as Russell Biddle and an unknown man walked toward the wagons.
“Who’s the thug with Biddle?” Cotton asked.
Bob’s eyes widened.
“Son of a bitch!” He exclaimed.
“Another friend of yours?” Cotton asked.
“Not hardly,” Bob huffed.
“So I gathered,” Cotton said as he stepped back into the crowd to face the speakers.
Bob watched the faces of the new arrivals. He caught Jack’s eye, who gave him a menacing stare. Though he couldn’t see himself, Bob had the feeling he was returning a similar glare.
He turned and looked up at the wagon. He saw Ed had also noticed Russell and Jack. As Wah stumbled through his introduction, Bob looked away from Jack and started taking notes.
***
Lee sat shivering and watching the crowd. If not for the torches placed strategically around the wagons, he wouldn’t be able to acquire a good target. He laughed to himself. What did it matter if he did? All he had do was get off a couple of shots. Exactly where they went or if they even hit anyone was of no consequence to him.
His plan called for him to create some confusion and draw the attention of the crowd. In the resulting chaos, he could escape to Junior and the waiting getaway car. The time was approaching. Lee was bored out of his mind listening to the droning pro union speeches. He could give a shit less about the problems faced by the miners.
Lee took the rifle and took one last look toward the wagons. It couldn’t be. Was that Bob Fulton standing near the front of a wagon? It was. Lee grinned. His night suddenly started looking up.
As he raised the rifle, the crowd exploded in cheers. Ed Elkins was reaching down and pulling Fulton up on the wagon with him. Lee’s heart raced. It was too good to be true.
***
After Ed was introduced he waved to the crowd.
“Before I speak, I want to introduce a man who used to work in the Newman mines. Many of you know him and his family. I want to recognize him for everything he’s done to help coal miners everywhere,” he said as stretched out his hand. “Come on up here Bob.”
Bob laughed and shook his head and reached up to take Ed’s hand and climb up on the wagon. He looked over his left shoulder and saw Cotton laughing.
“He’s the boss,” Cotton yelled as he raised his camera.
Bob opened his mouth to tell Ed he was there to cover the story, not be part of it. Before he could speak a sledge-hammer blow hit him just underneath his left kneecap and the sound of the flashbulb seemed to be too loud. Bob felt himself toppling over and a sudden stab of intense burning pain. Everything seemed to a blur after that as he heard more loud popping sounds and people screaming.
He also felt someone fall on top of him.
***
Jack slid his hand inside his suit coat as soon as Elkins was introduced. According to Lee’s plan, the time was near. He watched as Elkins pulled that smartass reporter Fulton up on the wagon with him. The cheers of the crowd filled his ears before the crack of the Henry rifle filled the air. Jack lunged forward while pulling the revolver from his shoulder holster. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Jack pulled the hammer back on the .38 that Lee had given him. Jack fired but as Fulton dropped, he brought Elkins down with him. The funny sounding union man standing behind Elkins was struck between the eyes. Blood and brains exploded from the back of his head as he slowly fell straight back. Suddenly an open shot as Elkins leaned over the fallen reporter. Jack drew back the hammer again as a second rifle shot whistled through the air and struck the side of the wagon, sending wood splinters flying. As Jack started to squeeze the trigger, a flash of light blinded him, forcing him to hesitate for a split-second. He tried to refocus and aim but all he saw was the cold eyes of a young man holding a Thompson submachine gun. The next to the last thing Jack ever saw was fire belching from the barrel of the Thompson. The force of the bullets spun him around and as he collapsed to the ground Jack stepped into eternity with the bullet-riddled image of Russell Biddle on the ground in a pool of blood.
***
Cotton was among those laughing as Ed grabbed Bob and pulled him up onto the wagon. He snapped a photo and as he did he immediately recognized the sounds of a gunshot and the impact of a bullet striking flesh. Cotton dropped to the ground to avoid further gunfire. He heard the unmistakable sound of pistol fire behind him and looked up to see Gary Celzcek die before his very eyes.
From his vantage point on the ground, Cotton turned and saw the stranger who showed up with Russell Biddle brandishing a nickel-plated revolver. He saw the stranger aiming at Ed as a second shot struck the side of a wagon. Cotton grabbed his backup camera, aimed at the stranger’s face, and snapped the picture. The stranger blinked, stunned by the flash. The young man in the long trench coat appeared as if from nowhere and carried what was known in popular culture as a Tommy gun and he used it to spray death. The stranger spun and fell to the ground after an untold number of rounds cut him nearly in two. Cotton watched the stranger hit the ground and looked a few feet beyond the would—be assassin and saw the bloody corpse of Russell Biddle on the ground. A moment later, he saw Hill step over to and away from Biddle’s body.
“He’s dead too,” Hill said as he returned to Ed’s side.
When the shooting started, Hill pulled his .45 semi-automatic and darted toward Ed. He saw the gunman draw a pistol.
“Take him kid!” Hill yelled.
Willie jumped in front of the wagon and started firing. The first few rounds were wide. The man behind the stranger took at least ten rounds in the chest. Willie quickly adjusted his firing and cut down the man with the revolver.
“Tree line Willie! Rifle in the tree line!” Hill yelled and pointed in the direction of the shots.
Willie bolted toward the trees in the darkness, sweeping them with gunfire as he ran and men, mostly miners followed him.
In the confusion, Hill stepped over and under the guise of checking for a pulse, quickly placed .32 caliber Colt in the dead right hand of Russell Biddle.
***
Lee sprinted through the darkness as bullets whizzed past him. Just before he started down the small ridge that would take him to the logging road that would lead him to Junior and the getaway car, a single bullet nipped his right bicep just below the shoulder. Lee yelped in pain as he hit the ground. He dropped the rifle and it bounced away in the darkness. More gunfire whizzed overhead, this time closer. Lee struggled to his feet ran as fast he could with his left hand grasping his upper right arm.
As warm blood flowed down his right arm, the cold air burned his lungs as he sucked in quick, shallow breaths. He could hear voices behind him but they were still a good distance away. Lee stumbled and fell. He quickly struggled back to his feet and then he saw headlights about forty yards away.
Lee staggered and stumbled falling twice more before he got to the car. Junior ran around from drivers’ side and grabbed him.
> “I gotcha buddy! Just hang on,” he said as he grabbed Lee and drug him to the car. Junior opened the door and Lee fell into the back seat.
“Drive! Now!” Lee rasped.
Junior hopped in the Ford he had left running and took off into the Kentucky night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Hang on Bob! Stay with me!” Cotton shouted as he tied off a tourniquet as tightly as possible above Bob’s shattered left knee, his combat experience paying off.
Bob grimaced and writhed in agony as chaos ensued around him. He saw someone throw a coat over the head of the dead union official while husbands and fathers herded their families away from the grisly scene.
Ed leaned knelt over Bob.
“Hill’s getting the car ready. We’ll get you to a doctor as soon as possible,” he said urgently as he around looked. Cotton noticed the semi—automatic pistol in Ed’s hand.
Bob gritted his teeth and looked at Cotton.
“Do your job. I’ll be okay,” he managed to rasp.
“I got ‘im,” Ed said as gestured with his head for Cotton to move.
The photographer grabbed his cameras and started moving, snapping photos as went. Everywhere he looked was a newsworthy photo. Cotton hadn’t seen such carnage since the war.
French Simpson, the national union vice-president cowered nervously behind the wagon as Wah stood next to him, staring at the tree from where the shots came.
“This is madness,” Simpson muttered again and again as he looked at the coat-draped body of Gary Celznek off to his right. “They blew his head off,” Simpson said. A flash from the camera caught his attention. “Get down they’ll kill you too — just like they killed poor Gary!” Simpson said.
Cotton shook his head.
“Shooter or shooters are gone Mr. Simpson. I think you’ll be okay now,” he said.
Simpson stood warily, looking around.
“Why would they want to kill Gary?” He asked.
“They didn’t. The target’s on the wagon. I’m afraid Mr. Celznek was merely an innocent bystander,” Cotton said.
Hill stopped the car just short of the wagon and hopped out.
“Give us a hand Cotton,” Ed said as Willie returned.
“Get him?” Hill asked.
An out of breath Willie shook his head.
“Must of winged him, found traces of blood but he got away. Sorry boss,” he said.
“Stay here. Talk to the sheriff when he gets here. Show him where you found blood and track him if you can,” Ed said as he took the Thompson from Willie, who nodded.
Cotton started to get into the backseat of the car with Bob.
“No. Stay and take pictures. The law will be here soon. I’ll be alright,” Bob said through clenched teeth before adding, “Call John. Let him know.”
***
Lee slumped in the back seat, gripping his bleeding arm.
“Mr. Biddle’s gonna have a fit when he sees the mess all over that back seat,” Junior said.
“Let me worry about that. Get me back to the camp office — wait. Stay on this road until we get into Fuson County. I’ll tell you where you to go once we get out of this county,” Lee said as sweat poured down his forehead.
Junior stepped on the accelerator, going as fast as he dared on the narrow, winding road. He glanced in the rearview at the bleeding man.
“I heard the shooting. You’re gonna need a doctor. You sure you don’t want me to head on in to Crystal Springs? It’ll take longer but at least you can see a doctor,” he said.
Lee shook his head.
“No, no doctors. It’s a clean wound. I know how to handle it. Just do what I’m telling you,” he said, his voice starting to rise.
“Okay, okay. Just settle down. I’ll get you there,” Junior said.
“You have any ‘shine in here?” Lee asked.
“No. Mr. Biddle don’t allow it. He wants his drivers to be sharp,” Junior answered.
“Dammit,” Lee muttered. “How about a smoke? Russell allow that?”
Junior pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and reached them back to Lee, who grabbed them with his right hand, thumbed the opening in the pack wider, and popped one in his mouth. He reached into the pants pocket and fished out a gold lighter. Junior glanced into the rearview and watched him light the cigarette. His eyes caught sight of the lighter. He quickly looked back to the road as the lighter snapped close.
“You’ve not asked what happened back there?” Lee said as he blew out a puff of smoke.
“Ain’t my job. I get paid to drive, not ask questions — learned that from Mr. Milner a long time ago,” Junior said.
“The old man?” Lee asked.
“Yep. Classy guy. I miss him,” Junior said.
“Ever drive for the sons?” Lee asked.
Junior nodded.
“Sure did,” he said.
“What did you think of them?” Lee asked.
“Paid well. Didn’t ask much of me. Can’t really complain,” Junior said, opting to say nothing that could be taken as offensive. A sixth sense told it would be safer for him.
Lee leaned back in the seat and exhaled more smoke.
The answer seemed to satisfy him.
“I heard that Lee was a real asshole,” Lee said as he took another drag of the cigarette.
Junior just shook his head.
“Not really. Always seemed to me to be a feller that talked straight and didn’t put up with bullshit. He didn’t have much of a sense of humor but so what, ya know?” He said.
Lee nodded silently.
“How about the younger one?” He asked.
Junior looked in rearview mirror.
“Joe? He was a lot like Mr. Milner. Always wanted the car kept just so — nice enough guy,” he said.
Lee grunted.
“Yeah, so I hear,” he said as he flipped the cigarette butt out the window.
***
It was almost nine-thirty and John was getting ready to go to bed when the telephone rang. Being a doctor — even in a small town like Crystal Springs — such calls were not uncommon.
“I’ll get it Trish,” John called out as got up from his rocking chair near the fireplace. He picked up the earpiece of the candlestick phone after the third ring. One more ring might wake Ginny from her sleep. For that matter, Daisy was sitting in the bedroom with Rachel and he didn’t want them to be disturbed either.
“Hello. Oh, howdy Ed,” he said.
Maggie walked out of the bedroom to let him know Ginny was asleep and had not been disturbed by the phone. She saw the color drain from John’s face as he gasped.
“What? How did it happen? Is he going to be ok?” He asked rapid—fire fashion.
As he listened, John’s shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world had been thrust upon him.
“Evans Hospital in Middlesboro? Demand that Dr. Baker see him. He’s the best surgeon they have,” he said as he turned to see Daisy standing next to Trish.
From the expression she wore he could tell she knew who the phone call concerned.
“Yeah, as soon as possible. Yeah...okay...that should work,” John said as he hung up the phone. He noticed that Rachel, clad in a navy blue bathrobe, was now standing behind Daisy. She too wore the anticipation of bad news on her face.
“Is it Bob?” Daisy asked calmly.
John opened his mouth but no words came out. He could only nod as tears slowly rolled down Daisy’s cheeks.
“How bad...how bad is it?” She asked, half not wanting to know the answer.
“He’s been shot,” John said hoarsely.
Daisy closed her eyes slowly as her knees buckled. Rachel’s hand covered her mouth as Trish wrapped her arm around Daisy to keep her from falling.
“He’s alive. Ed had him taken to Evans Hospital in Middlesboro — it was the closest one. From what I understand it was a leg wound and he’ll require surgery,” John said as Rachel made her way over and embraced him.
; “I’ve got to get to Middlesboro,” Daisy said.
“A car is on its way,” John said.
“You’ve got to go too. You both need to be there,” Rachel said. “Go on — I’ll be okay. Trish is with me and Ginny.”
“How did it happen?” Daisy asked.
“I’m not sure. It happened at the rally. All I know is one of the union officials there was murdered and Bob was also shot. At least one of the gunmen was killed. I’m sure we’ll find out more later,” John said wearily.
“I...I n-need to get dressed,” Daisy said.
“Pack a few things. You might need them,” John advised as she hurried off to the guest bedroom.
“Come on. You’ll need some things too,” Rachel said as she led him to their bedroom.
***
Ed stood in the waiting room with Hill, who had burned halfway through a cigar. Bob had just been rushed into surgery.
“Any news from the kid?” Ed asked.
“Not a word. Untellin’ how long he’ll be there talkin’ to the law. I got some of the boys out lookin’ to see if they can find out anything,” Hill said.
“Check on Lucy and Mae?” Ed asked.
Hill knocked some ashes into a glass ashtray on a small wooden table.
“Yeah. They’re fine. I sent four more men over just in case though,” he said.
“Good,” Ed said as he slowly paced back and forth.
“Ain’t any of this your fault,” Hill said.
“You really think that union guy and Bob were the targets?” Ed asked.
“Bob could’ve been a target,” Hill countered.
Ed thought for a moment.
“It’s possible I guess but...I’m thinkin’ Lee James Milner’s come home.”
“I’m afraid you might be right. I don’t know anybody else with that mix of balls and stupid,” Hill said.
A couple of hours later, John and Daisy arrived at the hospital.
Ed briefed them on what he knew — Bob was still in surgery and had been for nearly four hours. He described the wound to John as Daisy listened. She looked to John.
“You’ve seen wounds like this before. What does this mean for Bob?” Daisy asked.
Moonshine, Coal, and Hope Page 21
