Moon Over Manifest Part 13

"I'm in no hurry," Chester said.

The front door opened again and more people arrived. Jinx watched from his hiding s.p.a.ce.

Chairs shifted and sc.r.a.ped against the dusty floor as people took their seats and eyed each other without speaking. There had never been a town meeting before. Normally, each fraternal order would gather in their own hall and discuss their own business. On occasion there might be an awkward encounter in the mercantile or the hardware store, in which members of one nationality might exchange a halted word of greeting with those of another.

Even in church, folks kept to their own. Among the Catholics, the Austrians went to Ma.s.s at eight o'clock, Italians at nine o'clock, and Irish at ten o'clock. Services were divided up similarly among the Lutherans and Methodists.

But in light of the recent goings-on at the mine, the cross burning at the German Fraternal Hall, and the Widow Cane's death, the whole town was abuzz. With everyone's wanting to talk and a more than usual desire not to be noticed by Burton and his pit boys, representatives of each nationality and a few others had been asked to the secret meeting at Shady's place. Chester Thornhill, one of Burton's crew, had not been invited. But here he was, smack in the middle of it.

Wide-eyed, Chester sipped his drink as Velma T. Harkrader arrived. Soon after, Olaf and Greta Akkerson of Norway took their seats. The Akkersons were the driest couple in town. When they started munching on a few beer nuts, it was too much for Chester to swallow.

"What's going on here, Shady?" Chester bl.u.s.tered as Casimir and Etta Cybulskis from Poland joined the growing crowd, their four-year-old daughter, Eva, in tow.

"Why, we're having a discussion on prairie flora and fauna, in honor of the late Widow Cane." Shady whipped out five gla.s.ses and filled them with sarsaparilla.

"Flora and who?"

"Fauna," Shady replied without apology. "Did you know there are thirty-seven varieties of hydrangea in Crawford County alone?"

Little Eva stared at Chester as she took her first sip of the bubbly sarsaparilla. Then, being eye level with Jinx's peephole, she peered right at him and giggled.

Chester banged his gla.s.s down on the table. "This is a bar, Shady, not a ladies' tearoom." He tossed a coin onto the table, nearly running into the Hungarian woman as he stormed out.

Jinx's hiding spot was getting stuffy and his feet tingled from lack of circulation. But even after being spotted by Eva, he couldn't take his eye away from the drama unfolding before him.

The Hungarian woman, her bracelets and beads jangling, took her place alone at the bar. Shady filled a shot gla.s.s for her and couldn't help smiling. Never had there been such an array of people in his establishment. Some were regulars, unbeknownst to their wives, while others would normally sooner be caught dead than set foot across his threshold. But here they all were.

Sitting on the floor, Eva played with her set of colorful nesting dolls, removing one hollowed-out and brightly painted doll from inside the other, while everyone waited for someone to speak. Jinx breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like Mrs. Larkin wasn't going to make it after all, but then the door burst open and Mrs. Larkin came in, wagging her finger. She hadn't been invited either.

"Shady, I've a bone to pick with you. That hooligan you've got staying here-" She stopped, realizing that Shady's saloon was full of people who she was fairly certain were not his usual crowd. "What's going on here?"

Shady just whistled nervously and wiped out a few more whiskey gla.s.ses.

"Come on in, Eudora." Hadley pulled up a chair for her at the Cybulskis' table. "We're just having a little town meeting, so I guess this pertains to you too."

Mrs. Larkin was apparently too stunned to speak and quietly took her seat, clutching her handbag in her lap.

"Thank you all for coming," Hadley continued. "I think we all know why we're here, except for maybe Mrs. Larkin. My apologies, Eudora. In a nutsh.e.l.l, Arthur Devlin needs the piece of land belonging to the late Widow Cane, and for once, there's something he can't get his hands on. That land could be a big bargaining tool for all of us. He has to get to his vein of coal, and if we owned the Widow Cane's land, he'd have to go through us to get it."

There was a silence while all present considered what this meant.

"But the Widow Cane, she is dead, no?" said Callisto Matenopoulos. "Who owns the land now?"

"Legally, no one," said Haley. "The Widow Cane pa.s.sed away July first and left no heirs. Therefore, her estate is considered in probate, or in holding."

Those a.s.sembled stared at him, not sure what he was telling them.

"Effectively, the land, and the vein of coal that runs beneath it, belongs to no one at this time. For all practical purposes, it's-"

"No-man's-land." The words were spoken in a deep voice filled with salt water and brogue. Jinx knew who had spoken without even looking. Donal MacGregor stood just inside the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest, waiting for the image conjured by his words to sink in.

Everyone was painfully aware of the term used to describe the open ground between opposing trenches in the fields of France, Belgium, and Germany and of the deadly struggle for that land.

"Aptly put, Donal." Hadley continued. "The property can be purchased by the township of Manifest along with payment of back taxes within ninety days. If the township does not have the necessary funds, or simply does not want the land, as of October first, it will revert to the county and then be open for public auction."

Donal moved to the bar and poured himself a drink. "And the mine will outbid us all and the property will be theirs. They'll have what they need to keep us under their thumb. Aye, it'll be a right b.l.o.o.d.y battle to keep that land away from Devlin." He swallowed the whiskey in one gulp.

Even without Mr. Underwood present, everyone could practically hear the final nail being hammered into a coffin.

"What is for us to do?" asked Nikolai Yezierska. "The mine-it owns us. It says you must work more hours in a day for same pay. They say here is voucher to buy what costs double at the company store. So it is Sunday? First, you work. Then you can go to church. Look at the Germans. They have a few meetings and the men in the hooded robes burn a cross to warn them."

Everyone nodded.

"How much would it cost to buy the land, Hadley?" asked Hermann Keufer, who had been a man of some means in his homeland of Germany until he had spoken out against the Kaiser. He stroked his handlebar mustache, waiting for an answer.

"To buy the land and pay the back taxes, it will cost one thousand dollars."

Callisto Matenopoulos expressed the shock of everyone present. "None of us have money. All we have to sell are store vouchers and perhaps a few silver spoons and thimbles brought over from our homelands."

"What about the skills that we bring?" asked Casimir Cybulskis. "I was a tailor in Poland. I can make suits. Surely there are others who can make goods or provide services for money."

"And who would pay for these?" asked Nikolai. "Yes, I make shoes. But who here will buy my shoes? As you say, we have no money."

"Besides," argued Olaf Akkerson, "Burton and his pit boys, they will know what we do. And they will take action against us. Remember Sean McQuade? He lost his job at the mine for merely suggesting that the men should not work on Sundays."

"We have children to feed." Etta Cybulskis rested a hand on her swollen belly, carrying her sixth child.

"They are right," Callisto said. "We cannot risk opposing the mine. There will be consequences."

There was a fearful rumble of a.s.senting and the room grew quiet. There seemed to be no more to say. Little Eva continued playing with her nesting dolls, opening a larger doll to take out a smaller one and holding it in front of the peephole for Jinx to see. Fortunately, no one took notice of her. Jinx carefully reached down to rub his left foot, hoping the meeting would end soon.

The Hungarian woman plunked her shot gla.s.s down onto the bar top and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Do you forget where you come from?" She stared them down. "What about the others who depend on us? Those who are left behind?" Her breathing was heavy. "Casimir Cybulskis." She raised her chin at him. "When your village was attacked, did your grandmother not hide you in a barn? Did she not give you her life savings to send you to America?

"Callisto Matenopoulos. Your mother. Did she not work three jobs to provide you with the chance to make the same voyage?

"And, Nikolai Yezierska? What about your family? They had to make a choice. Which son will go to America and which son will be forced to join the army? Your older brother. He insists you go and he will stay, no?" There was a stunned silence. They hadn't realized she knew so much about them.

"They sacrifice to send us here." she continued. "And for what? To live a dream of freedom and prosperity? Pah. They would be ashamed of us. What is it to defy the Devlin mine to those who have risked everything?"

Her words lingered. Those in the room who had remained unnamed looked into their own pasts-their own stories of coming to America.

Until a moment before, these people in Shady's bar had thought they knew little of each other as they hunkered with their own kind in their own trenches. But with the Hungarian woman's words, they suddenly recognized something in each other. They shared the same blood. Immigrant blood.

There was a long silence finally broken by Donal MacGregor.

"She's right. They've pushed us 'round long enough. I say it's time to do summat about it."

Hadley observed the nods of agreement. "Okay. The question is, what?"

"Aye." Donal rubbed his weathered chin. "They've got us over a barrel and they know it."

"And what do the Scots do when they're over a barrel?" asked Mr. Matenopoulos.

Donal's face broke into a wide grin. "Before or after we drink what's in it?"

There was relief in the laughter. Even Olaf and Greta Akkerson gave a chuckle.

"Well, even if we wanted to," Hadley said, "I don't think we're going to be able to drink our way out of this one. We need money, and lots of it. Unfortunately, the only ones making any money are the mine owners and the bootleggers. No offense, Shady."

"None taken."

Jinx's entire body was becoming one contorted knot. He stretched his leg ever so slightly and accidentally knocked over one of the whiskey bottles with a crash.

Everyone sat rigid and tension filled the room.

"What was that?" Mr. Matenopoulos asked.

Shady grabbed an empty gla.s.s. "Anyone want another round? Another cup of tea?"

Hadley Gillen stepped behind the bar, and after a quick examination, he removed the panel and hoisted Jinx from his hiding place, dislodging the wad of bills at the same time and sending them fluttering all over the bar top.

"You!" Mrs. Larkin cried out. "Velma, is this the hooligan who had access to your so-called elixir? More like the devil's brew if you ask me. Is that the kind of thing you concoct in your chemistry cla.s.s?"

"Calm down, Eudora," Velma T. urged. "I admit there was a bit more kick in it than usual, but even you said it helped your fever and chills."

"Helped me look a fool! The way those Temperance League ladies carry on, I'll never hear the end of it."

Jinx gathered up his money and inched his way toward the door, mistakenly thinking he could slip out while the two women argued it out.

"Call the sheriff. Arrest that boy," Mrs. Larkin ordered.

Donal MacGregor stuck out his foot to block Jinx's escape. "Not so fast, lad."

"He's been a source of conniving and cajolery in this community long enough," Mrs. Larkin continued. "Just look at his loot. Who knows how many other innocent people he's hoodwinked into buying that snake oil. I insist that he be put under arrest."

"Now hold on, Eudora," said Hadley. He looked at Jinx, who had his money in hand. "You'd better have a seat, son, until we get this sorted out. And why don't you hand over that money to Shady for the time being?"

Jinx placed the money on the bar and took a seat behind the counter next to Shady, his one sure ally in the room.

"We have bigger problems at hand," Casimir Cybulskis said, resuming the discussion. "How to raise a thousand dollars without being noticed by Burton. It is impossible."

The room erupted in a din of agreement. Then Shady had an idea. "From the look of things, the mine owners and bootleggers aren't the only ones making money after all." He fanned the stack of bills in front of him.

"What are you saying, Shady?" asked Hadley.

"I'm saying that this young man may have an idea that we would do well to listen to."

"You're not suggesting we take advice from a con artist?" Mrs. Larkin asked in horror.

"All I'm saying is drastic times call for drastic measures."

All eyes looked to Jinx, and Jinx looked to Shady with a horror to match Mrs. Larkin's.

"Hadley Gillen!" Mrs. Larkin protested.

The hardware store owner jumped, wondering how he'd been put in the position of judge and jury. "Well, now..." He scratched his head, straining for a solution to this predicament. Then Velma T. came to his rescue.

"It's true that Jinx tampered with the elixir that caused Mrs. Larkin to be a little more...well, animated than usual. So it does appear that some rest.i.tution is in order. Might I suggest that he do some manual labor for Mrs. Larkin? He can be quite industrious under the proper supervision."

"That sounds like a fine idea. What say you, Eudora? Will a little rest.i.tution do the trick?"

"Well, Your Honor, I hardly think-"

"Settled." Hadley tapped his gla.s.s on the table like a gavel. "Now, if we could get back to the subject at hand..."

All eyes returned to Jinx.

"Shady, I don't think these folks want to hear from me," Jinx whispered.

"Well, I'm sure Sheriff Dean would be more than eager to ask you a few questions," Shady whispered back. "These folks are desperate. There's no telling what they might do."

Hadley Gillen looked at the worn faces all looking at Jinx. "Young man, this town is at a bit of an impa.s.se. If you have any suggestion that might help, now would be the time to voice it."

Jinx squirmed to his very core. He looked pleadingly at Shady to be relieved of this fix.

Little Eva, who had continued to carefully take apart each doll to remove a smaller one from inside, finally removed the tiniest doll, and tottered over to Jinx. "Matryoshka," she said, naming the nesting doll. She handed the smiling doll to him as if this tiny memento embodied the hopes and fears of everyone in the room.

Jinx accepted the gift and the burden. He cleared his throat. "So," he began haltingly, "you want to keep Devlin and Burton out of town for a month and make a thousand dollars?"

"That's right," Hadley answered for the group.

"Would that include keeping Sheriff Dean out of town?"

Hadley paused, studying Jinx. He seemed to sense the bargaining that was taking place. "I suppose it would."

"Then I have an idea."

There was a solidarity among the people in Shady's bar that night, as one by one they emerged from their trenches and ventured into no-man's-land.

FULL.

An Excellent Investment An Excellent Investment a.s.sOCIATION.

and a Patriotic Duty and a Patriotic Duty PRESS.