by D M Barrett
John Norris nodded his head affirmatively.
“Oh, be here with your wife at 1:30 pm,” the preacher reminded as he turned and walked toward Lawrence Sawmill & Salvage.
* * *
When the preacher arrived at Lawrence Salvage, he observed that the old sawmill hadn’t been active in years and that the salvage exterior appeared to be mostly recycled building products. In fact, the whole place looked like it was beyond salvage.
As he walked from the road to the main office, he was determined to relieve Mr. Martin of some of his rusty sheet metal, used lumber, and some gravel from his pile.
When the preacher entered the Martin Salvage building, it was full of used tools, furniture, mismatched dishes, brick-a-brac, and about anything else you could imagine. In fact, the preacher had to turn sideways to get down the aisle to the back counter and office.
Mr. Martin looked up and smiled as he spoke, “Well, Pastor, what can I do for you today?”
“The Lord impressed me to ask for a donation from Mr. Finis Martin,” the preacher said bluntly.
Mr. Martin reached in the cash register and handed the preacher a ten-dollar bill and said, “Preacher, that better buy some good praying and fast results.”
“Why would you expect that?” the preacher inquired.
“After that train miracle, I almost believe you can walk on water, preacher,” he responded.
“Great!” said the preacher, but the donation that I need is not money.”
“I don’t understand,” Mr. Martin said with a puzzled look.
“I need some salvage lumber, rusty roofing tin, and some paint,” the preacher said.
“Are you doing some repairs at the church?” Mr. Martin inquired.
“Actually, John Norris and Leon Kyle are building a train stop near Miss Rosie’s,” the preacher explained.
“I think that will be good for Ferguson. But how does that affect me?” Finis Martin inquired.
“There will be a big sign on the building that says: Labor and materials provided by Martin Salvage,” the preacher continued. “The Mountain Excursion is stopping here twice a day and there will likely be some good foot traffic to check out your treasures.
The preacher handed Mr. Martin the plans provided by the Tennessee Central station master. He reviewed them and said, “I can provide the materials, but I don’t have the money to pay for the labor to build it.”
“The Lord has provided, Brother Lawrence,” the preacher said.
“How do you figure that, pastor?” Mr. Lawrence inquired.
“I’ll take this $10 bill and get Leon Kyle and John Norris to build it,” he said.
“Now preacher, you had that in mind all along. That’s why you took that bill and then said what you really wanted,” Mr. Martin stated.
“The Good Book says: Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,” the preacher replied.
“I’m hoping to see that foot traffic in here preacher,” Mr. Martin said with a chuckle.
* * *
After leaving Martin Salvage, the preacher made his way to Harriman Bank. George Hickman was seated at his large wooden desk with his feet propped up on its top.
The preacher nodded politely at Drusilla and then looked at Mr. Hickman who was apparently asleep or daydreaming with his eyes closed.
“Mr. Hickman, I’m here on some business,” the preacher said rather sternly.
With his eyes still closed and reclining in his chair, the banker asked, “Have you got that $500 from Miss Rosie?”
“But of course,” the preacher said.
Upon hearing the news, the banker drew so much air that he almost choked on his unlit cigar. He found the statement to be incredulous, but he didn’t doubt the preacher’s word.
“I’ve got a $530 check from the Tennessee Central Railroad that Miss Rosie has endorsed,” the preacher explained.
“Let me see that,” the banker said almost snatching the check from the preacher’s hand.
“I’m here to deliver that as down payment toward a refinanced mortgage for Miss Rosie,” the preacher explained.
“That’s not gonna happen, preacher. I need this and $370 in two days,” the banker said gruffly.
The preacher took the Tennessee Central check from the banker’s hand and began to walk toward the door. There was a very determined look on his face.
“Now wait a minute, preacher. I never said we couldn’t talk,” the banker pleaded.
“Here’s the deal. Here’s the $530 payment and you will finance the $370 balance for 12 months at no interest,” the preacher explained.
“That won’t work. That just won’t work. This bank has to make money,” Mr. Hickman exclaimed.
“With the Tennessee Central running the Mountain Excursion twice daily, Miss Rosie’s being sold out most days for meals and lodging, and the increased traffic for all the Ferguson businesses, surely you can figure out a way to leverage that into a profit,” the preacher explained.
“Okay. How about six months with no interest?” the banker asked timidly.
“That is a reasonable offer Mr. Hickman, but Miss Rosie needs that money to buy supplies, hire labor, and otherwise expand her business. She needs working capital,” the preacher argued.
“Give me that endorsed check. I’ll write out a one year note for $370 at no interest. I’m just giving away the bank’s legitimate profit,” the banker complained.
“The Lord said: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive,” the preacher quoted.
Mr. Hickman handed the preacher the new mortgage for Miss Rosie to sign and responded, “I’ve done my giving for the year. You just make sure that the Lord pays a good dividend.”
“Indeed,” the preacher said as he walked to the front door.
Once he cleared the bank the preacher headed for Miss Rosie’s to deliver the new mortgage for her signature and to eat lunch. He hadn’t made it very far when he was stopped by Leon Kyle.
Leon was driving a 1927 Ford truck. It was customary Ford black with a fold down top and standard truck bed. It was older but appeared to be well maintained.
“Can I give you a ride, preacher?” Leon inquired.
“I'm going to Miss Rosie’s for some lunch. I’ll pay for your lunch if you come with me,” the preacher offered.
“Why would you do that?” he asked.
“I don’t want anyone to think that Miss Rosie or her girls have backslid. Now I’ll have a witness that it was only lunch,” the preacher said with a chuckle.
“A handsome man, such as you, could cause a lady to stumble,” Leon said with a smile.
During lunch, Leon explained that he had interviewed for a job at John Lester Produce in Crossville, but Lester just didn’t have the money to pay him.
“You got enough gas to get us to Crossville and back?” the preacher inquired.
“Yes, but why?” Leon asked.
“The Lord has impressed me to go and see Mr. John Lester,” the preacher continued, “But first, I have to meet John Norris at the church at 1:30 pm.”
* * *
When the preacher and Leon Kyle arrived at the Community Church, John and Mary Norris were waiting. John smiled but Mary had a stern look on her face.
After greeting them both, the preacher said, “John, I need you to go down to Martin Salvage and pick up some lumber, sheet metal, and paint that Mr. Martin has donated to build a small covered railroad platform across the street from Miss Rosie’s. Mr. Martin has the plans and he can help you.”
“What about our meeting, pastor?” Mary asked.
“We will have to postpone that for a few days since John has this job and another immediately behind it,” the preacher explained.
“That’s not a problem, preacher. We can sure use the money,” she replied.
* * *
When Leon and the preacher arrived at John Lester’s produce company, the preacher was amazed at the size of his operation. Mr. Lester supplied lo
cally grown produce to stores from Knoxville to Nashville including Crossville and Cookeville.
John Lester’s office was in an unpainted, almost dilapidated structure that looked more like a tool shed than a place of business. However, his tended fields of vegetables extended beyond eyesight. They contained corn, all kinds of beans, cabbage, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, beets, turnips, and about any other vegetable you could name. There was even a sorghum field that was made into sorghum molasses in the fall.
As Leon and the preacher entered John Lester’s office, he entreated them to come in and offered them seats on two vegetable crates. The preacher said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t get any splinters.
“Leon, what can I do for you and the preacher?” Mr. Lester asked.
The preacher replied, “We’re building a fruit and vegetable stand in Ferguson. We want you to supply it with produce.”
“I can do that. My trucks go all the way to Nashville twice weekly,” Mr. Lester said.
“I need to work out an arrangement between you and the Lord, Brother Lester,” the preacher stated.
“My daddy always told me that when a preacher called you brother that you better grab your wallet and hold it tightly,” the wholesaler said gruffly.
“Mr. Lester, the Lord has said, ‘When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field . . . Leave them for the poor and the stranger residing among you,” the preacher said.
“So the Lord expects me to give away 20% of my produce?” he asked.
“Actually,” the preacher continued, “I think the current day’s deal will work better for you.”
“Let’s hear the deal, brother,” Mr. Lester replied with a chuckle.
“I need you to provide Leon Kyle with enough of your produce free of charge to keep a small fruit stand in business through this growing season. In return, he’ll work for you at reduced wages for one year,” the preacher explained.
“How’s he going to work for me and run a fruit stand at the same time?” John Lester asked with a perplexed look.
“When Leon is working for you, his wife and older children will tend the fruit stand. If things go well, it will benefit both of you. At the end of the year, you both are free to renegotiate this deal,” the preacher suggested.
“I like the deal, but how will we get the fruit stand built?” Leon inquired.
“You are helping John build a small train stop across from Miss Rosie’s and John will help you build the small fruit stand. Mr. Finis Martin donated $5 each for you for labor,” the preacher replied.
“I will do it. But how are you going to pay for materials to build the fruit stand?” Mr. Lester queried.
The preacher replied confidently, “The Lord will provide, Brother Lester. The Lord will provide.”
“Well, I hope you’re as good at working a deal with the Lord as you were working one with me,” John Lester announced.
* * *
There was silence between Leon Kyle and the preacher as the truck moved through the curvy mountain road on its half-hour journey. The preacher appeared to be in deep thought. Leon did not interrupt it.
The preacher was replaying the recently-recorded Carter Family song, ‘No Depression In Heaven’ in his mind. The song said in pertinent part:
“For fear the hearts of men are failing,
For these are latter days we know.
The Great Depression now is spreading,
God's word declared it would be so.
I'm going where there's no depression
To the lovely land that's free from care
I'll leave this world of toil and trouble
My home's in heaven, I'm going there.”
The preacher thought to himself, “Not yet, Lord. Not yet!”
Upon returning to Ferguson, Leon Kyle dropped off the preacher at the discount grocery. When he walked in, he saw Jack Wright with watery eyes, runny nose, and coughing almost constantly.
“I've got the flu preacher,” the proprietor explained.
“You think?” the preacher retorted.
“I’m closing the store for a week starting now. You better keep your distance,” Jack Wright said.
“I’d be glad to serve as a shopkeeper during your absence, Brother Jack,” the preacher offered.
“Preacher, I’d really hate to impose on you, but I could use your help,” he replied.
As the storekeeper started toward the door the preacher said, “We didn’t discuss my pay. It is $3 a day and that’s only $18 for a six-day week. I have a Sunday job.”
Jack Wright nodded affirmatively and said under his breath, “Brother Jack, indeed.”
The preacher said nothing but knew that the pay was enough for materials to build a pretty nice fruit stand.
3: The Woods Are On Fire
During his morning prayer and study, the preacher heard pounding on the church door and someone screaming, Preacher! Preacher! As he opened the door, he discovered it was Jack Wright.
Before the preacher could say anything, the store owner gasped out, “The woods are on fire! The woods are on fire!”
The preacher made a 180-degree survey of the surrounding woods and failed to see any fire or smoke. There were no vehicles outside the local volunteer fire department building either.
“I don’t see anything or smell anything. Who told you that?” the preacher asked.
“Miss Sarah called on the main line and was telling everybody,” Jack said.
“Where is the fire? Who initially reported it? What are the plans for dealing with it?” the preacher asked in rapid succession.
“What she said is that the Revenuers are in the county. She told me they were asking about you,” Jack Wright exclaimed.
“I don’t know why that would be. I’ve never been in the moonshine business – even though, during Prohibition, my uncle would run a few gallons regularly.
During their discussions, a black 1937 Ford sedan stopped in front of Discount Grocery. Two men in dark suits exited the vehicle and one began to pump gas.
“Hide in the back of the church. I’ll tell them you left town,” the storekeeper said excitedly.
“Let’s go over and see what they want. But just let me do the talking,” the preacher instructed.
The two men crossed the highway and approached the store. The first man finished pumping gas into the vehicle and then stood beside the second fellow.
“How much do I owe you for the gasoline?” he asked.
“How many gallons did you pump?” Jack Wright inquired.
“Twelve gallons even,” the agent replied.
“It’s ten cents a gallon so that’s $1.20. Come inside and I’ll get your change,” the storekeeper announced.
Before the men entered the store, the preacher extended his hand and said, “Hello, I’m the preacher.”
The two agents looked at each other and one asked, “Are you acquainted with a Thomas Mann in this area?”
“Yes,” the preacher said and continued, “I am Thomas Preacher Mann. How can I help you?”
“I am Agent Rogers, and this is Agent Jenkins. We were directed to you by our Field Office Chief and told to tell Raven: ‘Whitehorse.’”
“Ah, that’s an old army friend of mine, Gary Simpkins,” the preacher said.
"Why was his nickname, Whitehorse?" Agent Rogers asked.
"The Bible says, 'And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him," said the preacher.
"You are saying that in the War, Chief Simpkins brought hell and death to the Germans," Agent Jenkins remarked.
"Indeed," the preacher replied with a melancholy expression.
"What about your nickname, Raven?" Agent Rogers inquired.
"You will have to ask Whitehorse about that," the preacher stated flatly.
"Why are you here?" the preacher queried.
“The chief told us that you would be able to help us catch some illegal moonsh
iners in the Upper Cumberland area,” Agent Jenkins explained.
“What do you know about ‘shinin’?” the preacher asked.
“Not much. That’s why he sent us to you,” Agent Rogers responded.
“You fellows settle up with Mr. Wright. Then we will take a short trip down to Miss Rosie’s for a late breakfast or early lunch,” the preacher said.
While the men were paying for the gasoline, the preacher said to Jack Wright, “Call Sheriff Hankins. Tell him to meet us at Miss Rosie’s. We need to help these two agents solve some crimes.”
Miss Rosie was happy to serve the men a late breakfast of country ham, eggs, biscuits, red-eye gravy, and blackberry jelly. There was a lot of eating and little talking for the first thirty minutes. Sheriff Hankins arrived just as the three men finished their meal.
“You’re running with a bad crowd, preacher,” the sheriff said with a chuckle.
“Well, the Lord ate with sinners and tax collectors,” the preacher responded.
“What do you fellows need from us?” Sheriff Hankins queried.
“To catch moonshiners,” the agents replied in unison.
“Now, I’m not in the law enforcement business, mind you. But I have a few ideas based on being around ‘shinin’ when I was younger,” the preacher said.
“Say on,” Agent Jenkins encouraged.
“To catch a ‘shiner you have to find his still. You can traipse through the woods fighting briars, weeds, vines, insects and snakes, all day looking for a needle in a haystack, or you can do it the smart way,” the preacher explained.
“We want to do it the smart way,” Agent Rogers said.
“If you want to catch a moonshiner you want to get up about sunrise. Stand outside the woods and look for little plumes of white smoke rising into the air with the hills in the background. That’s usually a moonshine still cooking off sour mash,” the preacher explained.
“Excellent! We’ll start tomorrow,” Agent Jenkins said.
“You can’t start tomorrow,” the preacher said bluntly.
Sheriff Hankins interrupted, “Smoke is not enough. You don’t have sufficient evidence, short of seeing a fellow toting a hundred-pound sack of sugar through the woods, to prove probable cause and get a search warrant.”
