by LeMay, Jim
One mystery remained: Tim had said that Chadwick and Matheson wanted to keep their identities as the culprits of the ambush secret, but somehow the news had gotten out. How had that happened?
He wondered what the next day would bring and if his lie about the gang’s stop at Coleridge Gardens and destination to Chicago would help or harm them.
Of one thing he was sure: he had not lied to Tim about being really tired from his trip.
Chapter Eighteen
John awoke early the next morning as Bernie had directed, a little sore from the previous day’s exertions but well rested; he had been so tired last night he had fallen asleep early. He hoped every day wouldn’t be as demanding as yesterday. Bernie had indicated such when he said today would be “funner.” After a quick breakfast with the rest of Bernie’s staff, he went down to the brewery to find Bernie already there, teasing the coals in the banked fire in the stove into life. A large stainless steel stockpot set on the grill. He grinned at John and wished him a good morning which John returned.
“We might as well get started,” said Bernie. “You’ll get your first brewing lesson while we’re working. First of all, you need to know what beer is. It’s a food, a rich, highly complex beverage. Vintners think their product is complex. What are vintners? They’re the folks that make wine. But it’s nothing compared to the intricacies of beer and all its many varieties.
“On the other hand, beer requires only a few ingredients. In fact you only need four for the most wonderful beers you’ll ever brew: water, barley malt, yeast, and hops. Brewers often use other additives, but adjuncts to the basic four usually compromise the quality. Some people, for example, defile their beer with wheat, but I’m a firm believer that God intended wheat to be used for bread and barley for beer.
“Let’s look at the ingredients for today’s batch. First the water. The quality of the water isn’t nearly as important as the old advertising slogans would’ve had you believe, but it’s still important. The local water is slightly hard so it’s perfect for most of our beers. The one we’re brewing today, though, is somewhat lighter than we usually brew so it should have harder water. We’ll harden it by adding a little gypsum, two teaspoons for five gallons of water. This is the water we’ll use.”
He unsealed a large glass bottle on a table, picked it up, and started pouring it into the stockpot. “We boiled this a couple days ago and sealed it in this five-gallon carboy. Water isn’t treated in treatment plants anymore so it gets contaminated in the ground on its way to the well. We let the sediments settle out and pour the water off, boil it to kill the bacteria, seal it like this, and let it set for a day or two.” When the stockpot was half full, he returned the carboy to the table and resealed it. He added more sticks to the fire. “Now we’ll wait for it to come to a boil.
“In this bin is the malted barley we’ll use. It’s a six-row barley raised by a couple of local farmers though two-row barley is also acceptable. I know theirs is six-row because I gave them the seeds and I inspect the crops every year before I buy to make sure they’re using my barley. We malted this barley through a long process that you’ll soon learn about. I ground it a couple days ago, careful to crack the husks, not crush them, which you’ll also learn. That exposes the starchy innards while leaving the hard outer layer intact to use as a filter bed for sparging. Don’t worry, you’ll find out about sparging later today. The first of our processes is to convert the barley through boiling. The end result will be a sweet wonderful smelling liquid called wort.
“Then there’s the yeast. When I started brewing long ago as a homebrewer, it was the easiest ingredient to procure. You just bought it at the store. Now it’s the most difficult. I have to extract it from the lees of the last batch and make sure it doesn’t get contaminated by wild yeast in the air, very difficult to do in a world without refrigeration. We’ll discuss the difference between top and bottom fermenting yeasts after while.
“The ingredient that turns beer from a sweet alcoholic sludge to delicious bitter ambrosia is this.” Bernie ran his fingers through some green plant cones in one of two large open bowls on the table. They were about the size of large acorns and looked rather like marijuana buds. “Hops. They serve three functions: the alpha and beta resins released during the boil provide bitterness and sterilizing qualities; the tannins collect proteins that would otherwise form haze during the boil and the fermentation process and carry them to the bottom; and, most importantly of all, they give beer its delightful aroma. Unfortunately, the aroma is lost during the boil.”
He smiled broadly as he indicated the other container of hops, which was tightly covered with a lid. “That’s what these hops are for. We add them at the end of the boil. Their aroma will be released during the fermentation and aging stages and then gently trail off toward the end. In fact these are two different types of hops. Those in the first bowl I showed you are for boiling and bittering and the others are for finishing. We raise both kinds here of course, which is a whole complex science in itself, and we raise a number of varieties.
“They’re related to Cannabis sativa, by the way, marijuana, which grows prolifically in this climate. Hops do too, fortunately.” He paused, smiled. Bernie clearly loved his subject. “Any questions?”
“Uh, no, not yet.” John got the feeling that Bernie had used this lecture many times; it had the feel of Maude’s classroom lecture style. He listened intently not only because he knew it was important to learn for his new job but because he also found it interesting. He sensed that he’d hear a lot more in this vein over the next few days.
“Good. Let me describe the type of beer we’re brewing today. First of all, there are two types of beers, ale which uses a type of yeast that ferments from the top down and lager which is bottom fermented. Most British beers were ales, and most beers in the rest of the world were lagers, except in the United States where both ales and lagers were
brewed. We produce both types here too, but in the summer we mostly brew ales because they ferment at higher temperatures. From this time of year through the spring we brew mostly lagers because they ferment at cooler temperatures. The brewery is in the basement because it’s cooler here.
“Today’s beer is a lager, and rather lighter than we’re used to brewing, both in flavor and color, but certainly not in alcohol content! This is about my least favorite beer. My taste leans toward the darker and dryer ales.”
“Then why do you make it?” asked John.
“Good question. Because of loyalty to my customers. A lot of them prefer a light lager so I always keep well stocked with it.” He checked the water, which had nearly come to a boil, and added a white powder from a jar. “That’s the gypsum. I’ve done this so long I can eyeball most things, but it’s incredibly important that you measure everything exactly when you add it to the boil.
“Remember a bit ago when I said all that about adjuncts defiling the beer? Well, that’s exactly what we’re going to do with this batch. We’ll use a little corn sugar along with the malt. The sugars in the corn are converted to alcohol so they add strength but no flavor or character. You end up with a beer that has less flavor but it’s also not as filling. A lot of Americans still like that kind of beer.” He shook his head in wonder. “Shows how bad habits persist. In Germany they have a law against brewing poor quality beer like this – a federal law – the Reinheitsgebot. If I brewed this beer in Germany as a brewmaster, I’d most likely end up in a federal penitentiary. In the days before the modern legal system, they handled the felonious brewmaster in a cruder fashion, though more directly to the point, I might say. They drowned him in a keg of his own beer.
“But let’s get started, shall we? The first step is the mash boil. Let’s add the ground barley like so ...”
And so one step followed another throughout the day. There was a bit of down time between waiting for different stages to boil or settle or whatever, but Bernie planned his boil so it coincided with work on a batch that had been fermenting f
or some time. The boiling mixture, the “wort”, had to be stirred often, and different items were added at the proper times, the hops toward the end. The boiling wort exuded an increasingly wonderful smell until the room was redolent with a heavenly aroma. The hops, added toward the end, added a complex level to the odor.
Finally it was time for sparging. This was carried out after the boil was complete and the wort had cooled somewhat. It was basically an operation in which the hard outer seeds of the barley along with the boiling hops were rinsed with water from a second pot of water they had boiled. It seemed like a fairly complex operation to John because a certain level of water had to be kept over the hulls and hops, but Bernie assured him he would get so used to sparging that he could do other chores at the same time – as Bernie was indeed demonstrating.
“If you’re like me,” said Bernie, “you’ll grow to love brewing. I mean, what else can you do in life that allows you to use terminology like ‘sparging your wort’?”
* * * *
Tim came for Matt early the next morning, looking a little beat up from the previous evening’s drinking, and said Matheson wanted to see him. Matt followed him back to the big tent. Matheson sat before the tent as he had the previous evening, flanked this time by a black man sitting to his left and two white men on his right.
Matt nodded, but none spoke for a moment. Then Matheson said to the others, though he was looking directly into Matt’s eyes. “Boys, this is the guy I told y’ ’bout, Jerry Jackson.” Matheson didn’t introduce the others to Matt.
“It’s Jordan,” said Matt.
“Oh, yeah, so it is. Jerry Jordan.” Was Matheson testing his ability to remember a fake name? “Me and these boys here was talkin’ ’bout you last night, Mr. Jordan.” He indicated the men sitting to either side of him. “I told ’m your tale ‘bout the gang we’re lookin’ for goin’ off t’ Chicago. They didn’t know whether t’ believe that or not but I says, now fellers, why would a good ol’ country boy like Jerry Johnson – ” (Why Johnson?) “ – lie t’ us ‘bout somethin’ like that? I says, he knows if he tells some lie that sends us traipsin’ off t’ Chicago an’ we don’t find no Johnson gang, well, he knows we ain’t gonna be real happy t’ be made fools of. And we know where t’ find him. An’ the other folks in that shit-ass town a his. Ain’t that right, Jerry Jobson?”
Matt shrugged. “Of course.”
“Now I would a took off t’ Chicago based on your word, Jerry – I ain’t suspicious like these ol’ boys – but we decided that they’s somethin’ we need t’ know before we decide anything else. It’s somethin’ y’ could help us with. We’d ‘preciate it so much we’d even pay y’ for it.
“As y’ know, we work for Boss Chadwick down in Columbia, but we ain’t gittin’ ’long right well with him just now. We’d like for you t’ go down there an’ nose ’round a little, find out what he’s athinkin’ ’bout us. He might not still be pissed at us, may want us t’ come back. Or maybe he’s more pissed than ever an’ is out t’ git us. Whichever way it is, we need t’ know afore we do anything else. Then, dependin’ on what you tell us, we’ll decide whether t’ go back t’ Columbia or t’ Coleridge Gardens or head off t’ Chicago or maybe do somethin’ completely different.
“Now like I said, these fellers here is purty suspicious. They say t’ me, they say, now what if Chadwick has a price on our head an’ this here good ol’ country boy decides t’ turn us over t’ him? So, just t’ make ’m happy, I tell ’m that we’ll send Tim here ’long with y’ t’ make sure y’ come back an’ don’t bring none boss Chadwick’s men with you.
“Here’s what y’ll do. At night you an’ Tim stays at this barn just outside a town. Tim knows where it is. You go in t’ town the next day an’ try t’ get in t’ see Chadwick. Tell whoever’s at his front door that y’ know somethin’ ’bout Johnson’s gang. When y’ git in t’ see him, tell him the same story y’ told me. Find out his current thinkin’ ’bout us. Then nose aroun’ town, find out how many men he’s got, that kinda stuff. Y’ come back t’ the barn at night. Y’ do this for two days. That oughta be ’nough time t’ find out what’s goin’ on. On the third mornin’, you an’ Tim come back an’ tell us what y’ found out an’ we’ll decide what t’ do next.
“Now, these boys is still suspicious. They say, what if this here Jerry Jacobson sells out t’ Chadwick an’ tells him where poor ol’ Timmy is an’ where we are? An’ what if they go out an’ burn the barn down ’round Tim’s ears an’ come up here after us? What if he does that? So here’s what we’re gonna do as insurance ’gainst that. We know where Newcastle is. The minute you two boys head down t’ Columbia, I’m gonna send a few men over there. They’ll stay there till I send somebody over t’ tell ’m ever’thing’s okay. If nobody comes t’ them in a week the town an’ its folks is toast. Deal?”
Matt hated that he’d gotten Maude and the others involved. He worried a little, too, that one of them might blow his cover to Matheson’s men. “All right, but please see that nothin’ happens to those folks. They mean an awful lot t’ me.”
“Nothin’ ’ll happen t’ them if you don’t make nothin’ happen t’ us.” Matheson pulled a very full buckskin bag out from under his chair. He loosened the leather drawstring, opened it, extracted a handful of square leather Nelson dollars and handed them to Matt. “Here’s somethin’ for expenses. When y’ get back, dependin’ on what y’ tell us, they’ll be more. Now you boys oughta git on the road. It’s a long day’s ride. You won’t reach the barn till dark. Stop by the cook shack. I ast ’m t’ put t’gether some grub t’ git you an’ the horses down there.”
Matt and Tim left. The men sitting with Matheson must have been his lieutenants, but Tim had not joined them. He had stood at Matt’s side during the whole meeting without contributing a word. (Of course no one else but Matheson had spoken either.) Just as Matt had suspected, Tim’s position in the hierarchy was considerably lower than he claimed.
Matheson was right. They got to the barn shortly after sundown. Though Highway 63 ran southeasterly from Stanley Market directly into Columbia, Tim led them down a series of secondary roads and trails that ran west of and roughly parallel with the highway, and out of sight of it. Tim explained that Chadwick sent patrols up the highway at times to “keep order” and collect “taxes” from people living in the area. The failing light remained long enough for them to make sure the barn and the surrounding area were still unoccupied and to care for their horses. Then they ate cold sandwiches and Tim crawled up into the haymow and fell asleep. He had been quiet on the way down here, still suffering from a lingering hangover.
Matt sat outside leaning against the barn for awhile, wondering how to finish this business and reconsidering his travel schedule, now delayed by this trip to Columbia. The next day was Wednesday. It was unlikely that he could get to Nellie’s Fair by Friday. The bank would be closed Saturday and Sunday (banks being one of the few anachronistic observers of the mostly extinct weekend) so he wouldn’t be able to make the withdrawals until Monday. He worried about getting the money to the gang and leaving soon enough.
He wished he could risk lighting a candle to read by and light his pipe to smoke some of the weed he’d brought.
* * * *
Matt awoke to a partially overcast dawn. Tim was already awake, refreshed and restored to his usual volubility. Matt left as soon as he’d eaten some dried fruit and bread, rode east to the highway and south toward town. The barn was still a ways from Columbia; getting there took some time.
Matt remembered from his few previous trips to Columbia that its four or five hundred inhabitants lived in the northernmost suburb which had survived more or less intact from the Last Days. There was another settlement in the south part of town in what had been the university campus. He didn’t know how many lived there but had heard it was much smaller than this one and inhabited primarily by teachers and students who had survived the Last Days.
The settlement was on the west side
of the highway. A man-high board fence that he didn’t remember surrounded it, changing course to run from house to house to integrate the building walls into the defensive system. Though a solid looking fence, it would give little protection against a modern high-powered rifle and none against a weapon as destructive as the Kreutzer but it would at least conceal its defenders. He saw slots at intervals that would allow defenders to fire from behind it. Just outside the fence were gardens and beyond them, croplands. Matt saw cattle grazing in the distance.
The market was on the southbound two lanes of the highway just outside the subdivision. As he remembered from before, it was a permanent market, like those of the bigger towns and unlike the temporary ones at Coleridge Gardens and Stanley Market. It was also about twice the size of the latter two markets and offered a wider variety of goods, even wine from vineyards south of the river. There were more lean-tos than tents, solidly built with three sturdy walls and a front awning, larger than their counterparts at Coleridge Gardens and Stanley Market and similar to those in Nellie’s Fair. The awnings were actually stout wooden structures that could be lowered and secured to form a fourth wall at night, just like the stalls at Nellie’s Fair.
He took his horse to the community corral and told the keeper he only needed to leave it here for the day. There was no facility like the one at Stanley Market for people to sleep in a fenced enclosure. Though he remembered staying in a rather slovenly hotel in the town, it looked like most visitors had camped in the open space east of the market.