A Drink with the Deacon

"Those guys think the Tommy gun is hot stuff. This Lewis will shoot through walls. I expect they never even heard of this thing."

"Deacon, what do you have in mind?" Rachel looked nervous.

"Well, I think I am about to decide not to freeze my ass off, just to make a hundred bucks." I looked at her with a stupid grin on my face.

"Deacon, if you are planning to fight the gang up there in Cincinnati, I am going to take my share and find a job working in a cafe. You will be very dead, if you mess with them."

"I don't think I will be dead. I think, if I kill that slimy bastard that tried to rip us off, the others will fall in line. I might have to kill a few of his people, but it should end there."

"It will be never end, they will keep on coming for you. You will never be able to enjoy the money. Deacon, it is foolish to even think of that." Rachel seemed a lot older while she spoke.

"How do you know so much about it?" I asked it seriously.

"My dad has been involved in this business for years. He ran liquor up from Kentucky since 1918. Some of the liquor men tried to sell direct like we did. Most of them got killed."

I filed the information away before I spoke. "You are probably right." I spent a few minutes cleaning and oiling the Lewis. I cleaned and oiled all the weapons while I listened to her.

Rachel honey, I don't mind risking my ass for money. I think, I would feel better risking it for a lot more money. " I saw the tiny smile cross her lips. I seemed to read her mind. "Yes, I have risked it for a lot less than we made by selling the liquor."

She nodded as if understanding that I had read her mind. "Well Deacon honey, I don't know much about anything except farming and the liquor business. If you do anything else, I will just have to trust you." Somehow I didn't like the idea of losing her money on some far out venture. I liked the idea of losing my own even less. Running liquor though dangerous was also a safe capital investment. As long as I could protect the product, there was a market for it. The logistics of it all seemed to be the basic problem.

Rachel and I began venturing out again on the second day. I had a plan but didn't know enough to even think about making any positive moves. The first part of my plan called for learning about the river. A river front bar frequented by the sailors seemed a good place to start. I left Rachel home while I did the research. I figured with Rachel in tow I would spend more time defending her than learning.

I found a place across from the wharf called the river rat. Not too surprisingly the bar was empty at ten A.M. The bartender was a wealth of information though. The river boats made stops up and down the river moving from Pittsburgh to New Orleans. The boats stayed anywhere from and hour, to overnight. The river boats did not travel at night because the river was filled with floating logs. The logs could take the bottoms out of most of the old boats. Some of the newer steel hulled boats would risk night time travel. They usually towed metal barges behind or pushed them ahead.

It pretty much looked like the river idea, which I had been fermenting was going to prove a bust. I finished the beer then walked out of the place after leaving a dime on the bar. I stood on the dock in the cold air looking at the boats tied up at the wharf. There weren't many standing idle even on the winter's day. I stood for a few minutes hoping to catch sight of a boat on the river. I just didn't see anything moving.

I did see a boat of about thirty feet tied up to the wharf. The boat looked run down to my untrained eye. It was dirty and in need of a paint job for sure. The small wooden shack on the end of the pier bore the sign 'Harbor Master'. I wanted to laugh but new better. The small dock could in no way could ever be mistaken for a harbor. It had to be somebody's idea of a joke.

The shack held one desk. On the disk resided a giant ledger and a candlestick telephone. The man sitting in the wooden chair with rollers had to be fifty or more. "What can I do for you, young man?"

"Looking for some information about river shipping. Just general stuff," I replied.

"Well I will do what I can but I am not a representative for the shipping companies. I simply control the flow from the boats to the dock then get them safely on their way again."

"I see. Well, what I want to know is so general you can probably help." For the next thirty minutes I asked him questions. He was a wealth of information. I learned first of all that I could not depend on the established shippers to carry the liquor from town to town. The boats were not at the docks long enough for me to find buyers. I almost left after I got that information.

"If you are willing to pay a little more? There is always the small pack boats. One of those you could hire for yourself. They can be hired by the day." The harbor master was trying to help. I had a feeling I would take a beating in the cost if I did that.

"Could I just buy one?" I asked.

"Yes you could, but then you would likely find it and your cargo on the bottom of the river. You see this old river is filled with snags, floating logs and moving sandbars just to name a few boat killers. Your money would be better spent hiring a small boat. Preferably one with a first class captain. You might also want to consider insurance."

As I left, I thanked the older man. I walked back to the hotel thinking through it all. I had all the arguments down when I arrived. I just hadn't made any decision. Rachel was waiting for me in the room. She had been sleeping when I left. I found her dressed for the day when I returned.

"So are you hungry?" I asked it as I moved about the room.

"Sit down Deacon. I promise I won't bite you while you talk to me." Rachel was smiling that grown up woman's smile. The one she borrowed from some other person surely.

"Sure," I replied as I fell into a chair. "What you want to talk about?"

"Do you have any idea what we are going to do next?"

"I thought a late lunch might be nice, then maybe a movie."

"Come on Deacon, you know what I mean." Once in a while she looked right through me. It was one of those occasions.

"Rachel, yesterday we were freezing our ass off selling liquor from the back of an old truck. You think you might be able to just take it easy a whole day?" I smiled at her as though she were a child.

"Deacon, where have you been? Have you been taking it easy?"

She had me and I knew it. "No I have been down to the docks."

"And why have you been down to the docks?" She asked the question seemingly a little miffed.

"I was trying to get some information." I couldn't keep the idiot smile up much longer. I was about to tell her to back off.

"So?" It was the last straw. She looked at me as if I were trying to steel from her.

"Listen to me Rachel, if I put another deal together, you can buy in, if you want. Until then, I will tell you what I want, when I want." I expected her to fly off the handle.

"Get this straight Deacon. If the deal includes liquor, you need me. If it don't, then I still got some money to put into the deal."

"The money has value Rachel, but don't become a pain in the ass. It might outweigh your money." I snapped it at her.

"Why you prick, you wouldn't even know the deal was available without me. You were headed off to be a carpenter."

"Well carpenters don't get shot at." I said it smiling at her.

"They also don't stay in hotels with pretty women." She smiled back. "Deacon honey," She had changed her tone. "You know it ain't just the money."

"What is it then? You surely don't expect me to believe it is love. You wanted off that farm, and I was your ticket. You slept with me to pay the fare."

"In that case, I won't be sleeping with you again." She was huffy even while sitting on the bed. "I am sure the fare is paid by now."

"When the ride ends, the fare is paid." Not even I knew what that meant.

"You mean, if I stay your partner I have to do it with you." She was angry.

"No, I don't mean that at all. If you are willing to pay your own expenses then the ride ends. It is just a business thing. If you don't want to sleep alone, then it isn't a partnership."

"There are plenty of empty rooms in this hotel. I don't have to stay in yours you know." She was down right huffy about it.

"I do think that might be a good idea. When I put together a deal, I will offer you a chance to buy in."

"What if I am the one to put the deal together?" she asked.

"If you are, then let me know." I tried very hard not to flash the condescending smile, but I knew I had failed miserably.

The deal I had in mind required a lot of little pieces and one large one. Before I went for the large one I needed to know the small ones were available. The broad strokes of the plan were simple. Rent a boat, fill it with white liquor then peddle the liquor from town to town along the river.

The river on first viewing seemed like a stupid idea. With a little more thought it made sense. My number one concern, after that first venture, was security. Protecting the truck was a royal pain. I had seen that during our stay in the fancy hotel. Protecting the boat would be easier while traveling, and easier while docked. I had a lot more firepower than the bad guys. I figured I could quickly ruin any hijacker's day.

I didn't think that finding a boat would be especially difficult. The other parts of the plan just had to be worked out. After lunch I took a not so thrilled Rachel on a tour of bicycle shops. In the second one I found a heavy framed bicycle. The bike was used, and was also covered in surface rust. The shop owner cleaned a spot for me. He used a very fine steel wool for the task. Almost all bicycle shops of the day sold small helper engines for the bicycles. The helper engine was small, noisy and not very powerful.

When the owner of the shop proudly explained that the power bike would do five miles an hour, I lost any interest I might have had previously. I knew that five miles an hour just wouldn't do. He could probably tell from the way I shook my head that I was no longer interested.

"The reason the bike is so slow," he began. "Is that the drive is friction on the wheel. In order to get any real speed it has to drive the chain. When you get to that point you are past the Bicycle and into motorcycles."

"So where do I go to see a motorcycle?" I asked.

"I have a used one in the shop. Fellow brought it in for repairs then couldn't pay for it. Want to take a look?"

"Sure," I replied. I had seen dispatch motorcycles in the army. They were large heavy bikes that could fly over the roughest roads. The motorbike he showed me was much lighter with smaller tires. The engine looked no bigger than the helper engine in the shop's display case.

"How fast will it go?" I asked.

"It will probably do thirty miles and hour top speed, if you were foolish enough to do it. It will cruise at twenty for sure. The damn thing gets about a hundred miles on a tank of gasoline. The tank, don't hold a gallon even."

"Could I ride it?" I asked it while looking the little bike over.

"Well, I don't know you mister. It would be mighty easy for you just to ride off with it."

"Yes it would. How about I leave you the price of the bike. That way if I don't come back then we are even." The man smiled ear to ear.

"Fair enough, I want one hundred dollars for it." He looked wolfishly at me. He obviously would take less but there was no sense arguing with him till I tried the bike out. He wrote me a receipt for the money before I would give it up.

"I rode the bike around town. I even took it out to ride up and down the hills a bit. Like everything else of its time, it lost a lot of power going up the hills. Still, the performance was satisfactory. The number one problem was the cold. The rushing wind would absolutely freeze your ass off. If the owner hadn't given me a pair of riding goggles I would have been blind from the cold wind.

"Well," I said upon my return. "I think if it wasn't the dead of winter I would be interested. As it is, the thing is just too much for me."

"To tell you the truth mister you are right. I don't expect I will sell that bike till spring. I need the money right now. Would you take it for ninety bucks."

He had my hundred bucks and he didn't want to turn it loose. "I still don't think I could ride it until spring and I really need something to get around on now."

"There is a couple of things you can do to ride it now. But if the cold is too much for you I guess it is too much." He said it but didn't make a move to return my money. I could tell he had at least one more trick up his sleeve. "Tell you what Mister I really need to get rid of that thing. You give me seventy-five dollars for it and it is yours."

"Well it is a fair price but I still couldn't use it." I tried to look like I was going to walk just to see if he had another offer for me.

"Well it is the best I can do but I can tell you how you can ride it this winter, if that will help?'"

"Oh, I would like to hear that," I said it expecting about what he said.

"You buy yourself a second larger pair of long johns to wear over your regular ones. Then you buy yourself a heavy railroad worker's coveralls."

"Yeah that might work," I replied.

"Then get you one of those wool knit caps the sailors wear and a canvas hat with a strap to cut the wind. Wear all that and you will be fine. Course, you won't be dressed for the ball." He seemed to enjoy the image he had created in his own mind.

"All right, you got yourself a deal." He must have known I wanted the bike. He had stayed with the sale even past the point at which I would have given up.

It was a handful but I did manage to get it into the bed of the truck alone. The chain and padlock had been purchased from the bike seller. I might have insisted he give me one but I felt sorry for him. Not that he hadn't made a profit on the bike but he did have to work hard for it. I covered the bike with a tarp before I returned to the hotel.

When I entered my room, I found Rachel had gone. Where she was, I had no idea. I expected she was in a room nearby. I wasn't especially worried. I remembered how to find her uncle's farm. I lay down on the bed to rest. I wasn't tired but I did need to think.

I had a pretty good idea about the boat so everything seemed to be set. My final problem of the day was that I just didn't like the way the liquor was packaged. Quart-sized glass mason jars did not seem to be a good way to move it. It was a minor problem at best.

I didn't see Rachel again until the next morning. She seemed to be avoiding me. I suppose she felt it would tend to improve my disposition. If it that was her intent, it was a waste of time. Rachel was a bit of a bother while I was making plans, but then anyone else would have been as well.

Rachel stopped by before I was ready. She stayed in my room while I did my morning bathroom thing. When I returned, we went to breakfast at the small cafe near the hotel.

Afterward, we braved the cold to walk the two blocks to the wharf. The small dirty steam driven river boat was tied up where it had been the day before. Since the boat had no cabin, it was clear that she stood empty. I wouldn't have expected anyone to be sitting in the open boat as cold as it was. I made my way back to the Harbor Master's office so that I might inquire as to the owner of the open boat.

"Hello," I said to the man behind the desk who was busy with a coffee cup as I entered. Judging from the broken veins on his cheeks and nose it was my guess that it contained more Canadian then Colombian. I had a good feeling about him and the bootlegging business. "Could you tell me who owns that boat?" I said it pointing to the old boat tied up at the end of the pier.

His window was low and it overlooked the dock. He needed to do nothing more than glance to where I pointed. "The man who operates that particular piece of junk wouldn't make a good seaman on a river boat." He looked disgusted as he took a sip of his 'coffee'.

"Really, how did he come to own a boat then?" I was trying to figure out if the Harbor Master hated the captain or if his was a fair evaluation.

"His father died." The Harbor Master seemed to think that was explanation enough.

"You mean he has no experience with boats?" I asked it trying to remember exactly why he had said I should not buy a boat.

"Oh he worked on the boat with his dad for a few years, but that does not make you a captain young man." He looked as though he wished to dismiss me. I was a bit thicker skinned than he imagined.

"Yesterday you assured me an inexperienced operator would surely sink his boat, so is this man capable of getting me around on this river or not?" I asked looking at the man as if I expected him to lie.

"The man accompanied his father up and down the river for years. His father hardly made a living with the craft. He is not even doing that much." The Harbor Master was again sure I had been dismissed.

"Well, just for the hell of it, where could I find the man?"

"If he is not at the River Rat, he might be swelling home brew at the Pit." The Harbor Master said it not bothering to look up.

"Who should I ask for?" I demanded.

"Skip Evers," the Harbor Master said shortly. I had lost my good feelings about the man.

As I left, I was debating whether or not another drunk on the team would be advisable. Actually there was no team, so it was all simple conjecture.

From my last little adventure in the whiskey business, I knew that a safe distribution system was vital, if I planned to continue. Losing my money was not an option which I took lightly. Killing people to keep what was mine was no more than Grandpappy Deacon had done, when he hired on to kill for money. In my case it would be killing for my own money.

I walked to the Pit but found it almost empty. "Hi," I said in greeting to the over painted middle-aged woman behind the counter.

"What can I get you?" she asked.

"Black coffee please," I replied. When she returned with the heavy cup I asked, "Either of those guys Skip Evers?"

"No, Skip ain't been around last couple of days."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Got in a fight."

"Did he break up the place?" I asked it looking about. I didn't see any apparent damage.

"Not really, just got his self beat a little. Had to leave with his tail between his legs."

"I see." I sat over my coffee thinking about that. I wasn't sure that I wanted to partner up with a loser. Then again, I needed his boat not his muscle. He didn't have to fight for my booze, but I couldn't be looking out for him either. In the end I decided I needed his boat bad enough to overlook the fight business. "So, where might I find Skip?"

"If he ain't messin' with his daddy's boat, you might try Reno's place. He goes there when he owes us too much money to come here."

"Thanks," I said it putting the nickel on the counter for the coffee. I put a second one down for the information. People who sat at the counter did not ordinarily tip waitresses.

The Reno's was even dirtier than the pit, if that was possible. It appeared to have a shroud of coal smoke hanging in the room. That was in addition to the fog of cigarette smoke.

The man behind the counter was a fat, ugly, mean looking son of a bitch. The pit seemed to be one of those places where they hired the employees for their ability to toss a drunken river boat sailor out the door.

I decided that being nice to him was a total waste of my time. "Skip Evers?" My tone made it a question.

He was about to open his mouth, which would probably have caused a problem. I had taken an instant dislike to him, even thought he was bigger and probably badder than me. I had the .45 hung under my arm so I wasn't worried.. There were not many men who could keep coming after getting hit with a slug from one of those monsters. I didn't expect there to be very much of an ouit cry, if I killed the man with the tattoos.