Kirby longed to tell the inspector that he thought conversations about mining were mundane and boring, but he forced himself merely to nod or grunt when required to respond. Near the end of their journey, Summers asked Kirby about various techniques used in their mining operation. He appeared eager to hear Kirby’s response.
“You know, I’d like to tell you all about that, Mr. Summers, but the truth is, I’ve never stepped foot in any of our mineshafts.”
The man’s face contorted in horror. “You’re joking with me. Never? None of them? How can you run an operation and not go into the mines?”
Kirby shook his head. “I came to Finch at my father’s request, but I know very little about the operation. I’m sure you understand that it takes a long time to learn all there is to know about mining.”
“Well, of course it does. Years and years of experience and accumulated knowledge are needed in such an operation. With your lack of knowledge, I’m surprised your father would entrust you with such a huge undertaking.”
“My father knew I could rely upon Mr. Daniels and Mr. Farragut. They’ve been with him for years and know the operation very well. Mr. Daniels could have answered all your questions with great expertise, but I fear I can tell you very little about the inner workings of the mines.”
The inspector leaned against the truck door, his jowls sagging with disappointment, and his voice silenced for the remainder of the journey.
The moment he returned to Finch, Kirby parked the truck near the path leading up the hillside. He raced to the cutoff that would take him deep into the woods, then slowed his pace as he ducked beneath low-hanging branches. His senses heightened as he trudged through the undergrowth. The sun was beginning to set, and he wanted to get in and out of these woods before dark.
A branch crackled, and Kirby swung around. His heart thudded at a rapid pace beneath his jacket as he scoured the area.
“Where you been?” Alvin stepped from behind a large oak tree, his rifle resting against his shoulder. “I been waiting out here all afternoon. If you brung the law, I swear I’ll shoot ya.” He slowly lowered the weapon from his shoulder.
“Don’t do anything crazy, Alvin. I didn’t bring the law. I’m alone.”
The words had barely escaped Kirby’s lips when a shot rang out.
CHAPTER
15
A bullet whizzed by Kirby’s ear. He ducked behind a tree, his heart pounding. He heard someone stomping through the underbrush, but he dared not risk a look. If it was a revenuer and they caught Alvin, so be it. His presence in the woods could be easily explained, although being spotted out here could prove to be Kirby’s undoing.
“Carl Lee!” Alvin’s voice echoed in the forest’s valley. “What in tarnation are you doing? You coulda kilt me.”
“Weren’t shootin’ at you, Alvin. I seen a revenuer sneaking around. You should be thankin’ me for scaring him off. He was so close to you, he coulda snatched you by the arm and hauled you off to jail. I can’t believe you didn’t hear him.” Carl tugged on his ear. “You going deef?”
“I’m not going deef and that ain’t no revenuer you seen. Come on out here, Kirby.”
Kirby removed his hat before he stole a quick glance from behind the tree. He wasn’t about to make any hasty moves that might startle Carl. “Afternoon, Carl!” Kirby waved his hat, and when Carl didn’t shoot it from his hand, Kirby cautiously ventured from his hiding place.
“What’s he doing out here?” Carl Lee jabbed Alvin in the side with his elbow. “You crazy?”
Kirby edged a little closer. “He’s not crazy, Carl Lee. The two of us have a working arrangement.” He waved his hand back and forth between Alvin and himself.
“Right.” Carl Lee spit a stream of tobacco juice that landed in front of Kirby’s shoe. “He works in the mine and you own it. That ain’t no reason for you to be in our woods.”
Kirby wanted to tell Carl Lee the woods belonged to his father, not the men who lived on the hill, but he bit back the retort. “You tell him, Alvin.”
Alvin didn’t mince words. “Kirby’s using his truck to deliver my moonshine. Safer for me, and I can stay here and make more while he worries about the revenuers stopping him on the road.”
Carl Lee hoisted his gun to his shoulder. “How come you didn’t tell me?” His eyes turned dark. “Looks like y’er set on taking over the moonshine business and leaving me out.”
“That ain’t the way of it, Carl Lee.” Alvin pushed his floppy-brimmed hat back on his head. “You been knowin’ me for most all my life, so you know better than that.” He gestured toward Kirby. “I wanted to be sure I could trust him afore I said anything to you. That’s the truth, ain’t it, Kirby?”
Kirby nodded. “Alvin said it would be best to make sure things ran smooth before we included you.” He shot a quick glance at Alvin. “The truth is, we’re about ready. I’ve got my truck rigged up and I could make an extra run with your shine whenever you need me.”
Carl Lee frowned. “How come you wanna take a chance running shine? We make and sell it ’cause we need the money, but you—you got all the money a man could ever need.”
Kirby shook his head. “My pa’s got all the money he could ever need. Trouble is, he doesn’t share it with me. I’m working at the mine for next to nothing. I’m trying to get enough money so I can leave Finch and get started on my own.”
Carl Lee tipped his head to the side. “You best not be lying to us or . . .” He grasped the barrel of his rifle and eyed Kirby with a look of warning. “You understand?”
Kirby nodded. “Understood.”
He’d let Carl Lee and Alvin think they were in charge of the moonshine business, but they weren’t going to be Kirby’s main source of revenue. Two months ago he’d experimented with making moonshine on his own. Disappointed when his efforts had resulted in a dark, fetid liquid that would have killed a large horse, Kirby enlisted the assistance of Jimmy Ray Malloy, a young fellow who sorted coal from rock outside the mine. What Jimmy Ray lacked in intellect, he overcame with the moonshine-making skills he’d learned from his father. The boy was easily persuaded to construct and operate a still for Kirby. And while Kirby told Jimmy Ray they were partners, the young man was no more than an employee he paid a pittance for his knowledge and labor at the still. Making runs for Alvin had gained Kirby introductions and acceptance by owners of the nearby speakeasies.
Kirby would haul the moonshine and take a cut, but delivering his own product and earning far more cash would remain his primary objective. Once the West Virginia legislature carried through with its plan to make the entire state dry, Kirby planned to cross state lines and make even more money. If his plans went well, he’d stay in Finch and ride this money train until the law came sniffing around, and then he’d be gone. Jimmy Ray, Alvin, and Carl Lee could take the heat.
Carl Lee shifted his gun and pointed it at Kirby. “He don’t look or talk at all like us, Alvin. One of us needs to go to the speakeasies and tell ’em we got a new deliveryman or they’ll think he’s a revenuer.”
Deliveryman. Kirby flinched at the term. While he was pleased that Carl Lee noticed he didn’t act or talk like the miners, having Carl refer to Kirby as a deliveryman tested his mettle. He clenched his jaw and silently reminded himself that he didn’t want to anger Carl. The man was too eager to use that rifle of his.
Alvin shook his head. “I already talked to most of ’em.”
Carl Lee arched a bushy brow. “You sure the two of you weren’t planning to cut me outta this?”
“Naw. I told ya I was gonna talk to ya once I was sure Kirby could be trusted, but sounds like you ain’t believin’ me.” Alvin balled his hands into tight fists. “If you ain’t happy ’bout things, Carl Lee, we can settle this between us right now.”
“There’s no need to fight,” Kirby said. “We can all work together and make a lot of money. Save your fighting for the revenuers, Alvin.” When Alvin slowly nodded, Kirby blew out a breath. “Why don’t
you two decide how you want to do this? Pick when you want me to deliver and then each of you mark your crates with a letter of the alphabet—not your own initials. We don’t want anyone to figure out who’s making the shine.” He glanced back and forth between the two men. “We need to decide on one spot where I’ll pick up the crates. Of course, it would help if we make it somewhere I can hide the truck while I load up.”
Carl Lee stroked his beard. “I know a good spot where you could back the truck in and out of a grove of trees at the edge of the woods. The truck would be out of sight while you’re loading. You gotta make sure no one’s around when ya move in and outta the spot.” He directed a ridiculing look at Kirby. “Think you’re smart enough to do that?”
Kirby bristled and wished he were the one with a loaded gun slung over his shoulder. “I can handle it. You think you can figure out how to hide the crates somewhere near the spot?”
Carl Lee curled his lip. “If there weren’t no place to hide the shine, what good would it be? You take me for stupid?”
“No. I’m sure you’re one of the brightest fellows I’ve ever met, Carl Lee.”
Carl narrowed his eyes as if weighing Kirby’s response. “Yeah, well, I’m smart enough to know you need us more than we need you. We been running shine for years without you, and we can keep doing it if we need to, so don’t get no ideas ’bout trying to take over or cheat us.”
Kirby clenched his jaw. If only he’d gotten set up with Jimmy Ray before making plans with Alvin. Running shine would have been so much simpler with Jimmy Ray as his only partner. Now he not only had to deal with Alvin, but he also had to tolerate Carl Lee’s rude remarks and aggressive behavior. “I have no intention of cheating anyone. Like I said, if you mark your crates when you put them in the hiding place, I can keep track of it in a notebook so each of you receive what he’s owed after I deduct my share.”
“Hold up a minute. Just how much you gonna charge?”
“I get a third of whatever the speakeasy pays per crate.” Kirby looked at Alvin for confirmation. “That’s what Alvin and I agreed on.”
Carl Lee shook his head. “That’s too much. I’ll give ya a fourth or nothin’.”
Kirby shrugged. “Then it’s nothing. You can haul it yourself. A third is fair. It’s my truck, my gas, my risk. If you’d rather haul your own, that’s fine with me. I’m not going to argue with you, Carl Lee.” He extended his hand. “I wish you good luck.”
Carl’s hand remained on his gun. “If you told him the same thing as me, Alvin, he’d have to agree to drop his cut to a fourth. Whaddya say?”
Alvin hesitated. “We already agreed, and he’s made a run for me already. Not sure I can go back on my word, Carl Lee.”
“Ain’t like you give it to one of us’uns. He’s an outsider. You can break yer word and it don’t matter none. I ain’t gonna tell no one, and he sure ain’t gonna jabber ’bout you changin’ your mind.” Carl Lee leveled a hard look at Kirby and stroked the rifle. “Lessen he wants to meet up with a painful accident.”
Kirby experienced a sudden lightness in his chest. “You do whatever you want, Alvin, but I’m not agreeing to cut my payment to a fourth. If you and Carl want to run your own shine, it’s fine with me.”
“Well, Alvin?” Carl shuffled his heavy work boots in the dirt. “Ain’t no reason we can’t keep on like always.” He jabbed his thumb at Kirby. “He needs us. We don’t need him.”
Alvin turned to Kirby. “Guess he’s right about that. You sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
Kirby shook his head. “I’ll find some other way to make some cash. Sorry it didn’t work out, Alvin.” He offered a mock salute to the two men and walked out of the woods, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his chest. The terrible meeting with Carl Lee couldn’t have gone any better than if he’d planned it. Alvin had already introduced him to the owners of the surrounding speakeasies, so continuing to make his own deliveries wouldn’t be a problem.
Kirby would have to make certain he wasn’t around when Carl Lee or Alvin was at a speakeasy making a delivery, but he could solve that, too. He’d simply be sure they were at work in the mine when he was making his rounds. Besides, making deliveries in daylight would subject him to less scrutiny from the law. They expected runs at nighttime, not in the middle of the day. And he need not worry about the owners of the speakeasies telling Alvin or Carl Lee about his deliveries—they protected their sources at all costs.
Kirby had been mistaken about the revenuers. He’d been on his second run during the middle of the afternoon when two men in suits carrying rifles and wearing badges on their lapels jumped into the road and waved him to a stop. They were the same two men who had stopped him outside of the small town of Denton only days before.
They approached the truck, one man on each side, and peered into the windows. The one with a cigar between his lips leaned against the truck door. “Ain’t you the same fella we stopped a few days ago in this here truck?” He looked at the lettering on the side of the rear panels and nodded his head. “Yep. Finch Mining and Company.” He looked at the other revenuer. “This here’s the same truck and might be the same driver, too.”
The man at the far window stuck his head inside the window. He appraised Kirby and the vehicle, then straightened. “Sure enough. Same truck, same driver. You going to Denton again?”
Kirby nodded. “Is there some law against going to Denton twice in one week?”
“Ain’t no law against it unless you got moonshine in your truck.”
Kirby’s stomach tightened like a hangman’s noose. He needed to remain calm. Last time he’d packed the crates in a hidden compartment beneath the truck’s bed, covering them with a load of coal. The revenuers hadn’t wanted to dig through the coal and had let him pass without checking. This time he hadn’t been as careful. Instead of loading the crates into the hiding place, he’d shoved them onto the flatbed and covered them with a layer of coal.
If the revenuers decided to dig through the coal this time, it wouldn’t take much before they discovered the crates, and then Kirby would quickly find himself inside a jail cell. He gripped the steering wheel with a ferocity that turned his knuckles white and forced a weak smile.
He nodded toward the rear of the truck. “You didn’t find anything back there last time and you won’t find anything now. You can see I’m carrying a load of coal. Might as well save yourself the time and let me get back to making my deliveries.”
Using the barrel of his rifle, the revenuer near Kirby’s window pushed his hat up from his forehead. “I got a couple questions.” He leaned down until he was eye to eye with Kirby. “First off, how come the owner of the mining company is making coal deliveries?”
“That’s a good question, Harry.” The other man bobbed his head.
Harry smiled at the compliment. “Second, why you delivering coal in the heat of summer?”
“Another good one, Harry.”
“Thanks, Joe.” Harry narrowed his eyes at Kirby. “Well? You got answers for me before we start unloading that coal?”
Kirby pushed down the bile that rose in his throat. No matter what, he needed to appear calm and respond with nonchalance. A tremulous voice could signal fear and result in dire consequences.
“First of all, I’m not the owner. That title belongs to my father. As to why I’m making the deliveries, my father wouldn’t approve just anyone driving the company-owned truck.” He forced a half smile. “Not that any of the miners know how to drive.” He furrowed his brow. “What was the second question?”
“Why are you delivering coal in the middle of summer?”
“Oh, right. You probably didn’t think about the fact that the women use coal in their cookstoves out here in the hill country. And the amount of coal I’m delivering wouldn’t be enough to keep their houses warm in the winter. One of my men heard there was a shortage of coal in Denton, and I had some of the breaker boys pick up what fell off the coal cars and load it
into my truck.” He forced himself to lean back, release the steering wheel. “Anything else I can answer for you?”
This time it was Joe who peered through the truck window. “I’d think two loads would be about as much as the ladies in Denton would need for their cookstoves.”
Kirby swallowed hard. If he was going to get away without the men inspecting the truck, he’d best agree. Yet giving Joe an affirmative answer meant he’d need a new plan if he was going to make future runs. “I don’t think they’ll need any more coal until winter. Of course, there may be some other small towns that have a need.”
Joe nodded. “That might be true. Tell you what—me and Harry will check on that, and if there’s a shortage in any of the towns around these parts, we’ll send word to the mine.” He reached into the truck and shook Kirby’s hand. “That’s the least we can do to help out.”
Kirby forced a smile. “You do that. I’ll be glad to make deliveries if any of the folks are in need.”
Harry swung the barrel of his rifle toward the road. “You can go on. Some of the womenfolk may need that coal to cook supper. Wouldn’t want to be the cause of cold food being served to their young’uns.”
Kirby nodded to the men, put the truck in gear, and slowly pulled away. Moments later, he let out a long sigh. He’d need to find some other ruse, or delivering the shine was going to be much more difficult than he’d thought. Maybe he should have remained friendly with Carl Lee and Alvin. They’d likely be able to give him some ideas.
No. He shoved the idea from his mind. He’d come up with a plan on his own, one that those revenuers would never suspect.
CHAPTER
16
Her father’s recovery had been slower than Hope anticipated, but the doctor finally had agreed he could return to the chapel car the previous week. She’d been delighted. Nellie did her best to appear pleased by the news, but Hope knew her dear friend was going to miss spending nights at the chapel car. And Hope would miss Nellie, as well. They’d shared their lives with each other and created an inseparable bond. Yet they both realized things would be different, going back to the way they’d been before—and they had.
The Chapel Car Bride Page 16