“Who’s gonna know. We’ll go after dark,” Zeke says, holding out his hand to Edith. “And we’ll need cash.”
* * * *
“You know, the Boss ain’t going to be none too happy to hear we’re making runs to Rum Row for Miz Edith. Her shelves are supposed to stay empty, not be stocked with good rum.”
The trip out to the San Sebastian, a two-masted schooner, had gone smoothly, and they are heading back to Gator Joe’s with five hams of Bacardi Carta De Oro rum piled up in the stern of the boat. Quality stuff this time, but a light load.
“Like I said at Gator’s. What are we supposed to do? She knows folks in Miami. Better us get a commission than some city slicker. Besides, having local folks around town think that we can’t get the job done would be bad for business. Word will get out, is all I’m saying.”
“And exactly what business do you think we’re in, Zeke?”
Zeke shrugs.
“Well, I’ll tell ya. We’re in the pirate business, you moron. Yer not getting sweet on the gal, are you Zeke?” Otis laughs. He puckers up, making kissy noises until Zeke throws a rag at him.
“Shut yer trap. I've just been spending a ton of time getting Gator’s spruced up. Unlike some, I might add. And it would go a lot smoother if you’d stop putting sugar in the damn generator. It’s always me that has to flush out them lines and get it running again.”
Otis throws back his head and laughs. “I just like to see ya working, brother.”
“And I just want to see what Gator’s is like full of people. And to do that, the place needs liquor,” Zeke says, glowering at him.
Otis, eyes forward on the dark water, shakes his head. He can see the tiny light at the end of Gator’s dock just coming into sight.
“Besides, Buford was way outta line tossing us in the water. And the Boss just laughed. We always seem to be at the end of some butt-head joke or other. Getting the scut jobs like decoy. I tell ya Otis, they’re going to push me too far, and pow!”
“Pow? Yeah sure. That’ll be the day. You gave one of your nuts to the Boss and the other to that dame.” Otis laughs again. He raises his voice a few octaves, finishing in a sing song falsetto voice. “Zeke, you’re going to start talking like this.”
“I don’t know why you’re laughing. You’re doing the same jobs I am, and Buford treats you like crap, same as me.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong brother. The Boss is wanting us to keep an eye on the dame. Don’t need four eyes for that. Two are good enough. I’m a pirate, not a house boy. At least I still got my dignity.”
Sitting in the stern, Zeke simmers.
“It was weird to be paying for liquor instead of just stealing it. We should tell the Boss about the San Sebastian. Did you see all the contact boats around? Easy pickings for the boys. All that cold, hard cash going out and illegal liquor coming back. A sweetheart of a deal,” Otis says.
“Coast Guard coming up fast behind us, Otis.”
“Damn. And we’ve got that rum. What do you want to do? Run? Shoot it out? Dump the liquor?”
Sirens scream. The crackle of a loudspeaker. “Attention. This is the Coast Guard. You are ordered to heave to.” A bright searchlight slams into Zeke and Otis.
Shading his eyes with his arm, Otis doesn’t slow down. A warning shot is fired across Rex’s bow.
Otis grins at Zeke. “Looks like the jig is up, brother. They’ll take the rum, which means we got an excuse for the dame, and the Boss will be happy Gator’s shelves are still empty. A win-win as far as I can tell. Better do what he says.”
* * * *
Edith goes into Coconut Grove the next morning. Zeke and Otis have spent the night enjoying the hospitality of Deputy Sheriff Roy Purvis in his jail cell. As far as she knows, neither Zeke nor Otis have been charged. Her rum, the real prize, has been seized by the Coast Guard. She slides an envelope of cash across the Deputy’s counter. “This should look after the fine, and a bit of something to cover the county’s expenses for putting the fellas up for the night.”
“Thanks for picking us up, Miz Edith.” Zeke climbs onto the truck bed.
“And paying the fine.” Otis joins his brother in the back of the truck.
“It was my liquor. I figured it was the least I could do. Besides, I need you to finish that roof.”
As Edith climbs into the cab, Otis rolls his eyes. “You need to finish that roof,” he says in a sing-song voice.
Zeke bangs on the roof of the truck cab and Edith leans out the window.
Zeke shouts at her. “Can we stop by the Dinner Key Coast Guard Station? I want to find out when the Rex will be up for auction.”
“They took the Rex?”
“Yup. Proceeds of a crime or something like that. Contact boats are seized maybe every four of five trips out to Rum Row. Just part of doing business. The Coast Guard auctions them off and we buy ‘em back.”
Edith nods and drives to the front gates of Dinner Key station, dropping the two off.
“Can you afford to do that as a regular part of the business?” she asks through the open truck window.
“Sure, the mark-up on illegal liquor covers it. A full contact boat can clear about four thousand per load. And them Coast Guards, with all the seizures, are flooding the market with boats, pushing prices down. Sometimes they have over a dozen boats like the Rex.”
“It seems a strange way to do business. Why not just pay the Coast Guard to keep your boat at the same time they seize your liquor?”
“Are you crazy? Coast Guard are government, Miz Edith. They got paperwork to fill out. It’s not like the sheriff’s department. Now, you can always make a deal with Deputy Purvis. In the Coast Guard, it would be mighty expensive to pay off all that brass up the flagpole,” Zeke says.
Otis chimes in. “It may not make much sense to a Yankee, but it’s the way we do things down here.”
Zeke shakes his head. “Imagine the thought, paying off the Coast Guard.”
“I’m glad you’ll get the Rex back, but I’m still out my rum. I was hoping to have some top-shelf booze for Gator’s’ opening.”
Zeke nudges Otis with his elbow. “Yup, that sure is a shame, ain’t it?”
Chapter 24
“O kay, that’s it,” Edith says. She slams the refrigerator door, rocking it. Whirling around, she glares at her kitchen. “Fish gone, leftover stew gone, pie gone.” She stomps out to the small porch off the kitchen and into the back yard. Hands on hips, she yells up at Zeke and Otis who are lounging on the roof, while the wiry helpers hammer away.
“You two. Get down here. Right now.”
Sharing a look, they climb down the ladder.
“You’re stealing from me. Or those workers you’ve brought along are. After all I’ve done for you. I’ve been fair. More than fair. But to have you sneaking around, behind my back…”
Otis shoots Zeke a worried glance.
Zeke steps forward, hands out. “Whoa, Miz Edith. Let’s just settle down now. What you think we done?”
Edith slaps his hand. “You know perfectly well. I’d have given it to you if you’d asked. I’ve more than enough for just me. But the chicken? The fish? That bowl of potato salad? A whole pie? What army are you fellas feeding?”
“What pie?” Otis asks.
“The huckleberry pie I left on the table. We were going to have it for lunch, not that you’ll be hungry anymore.”
“Miz Edith, we ain’t been taking no food.” Zeke looks to Otis, who shakes his head. “You can hear us on the roof. How could we be sneaking in the kitchen without you knowing?”
Edith glares, foot tapping, arms crossed. “Well, somebody is, or I have the biggest rat problem in Florida.” She brushes past Zeke and stomps back across the porch and into the house, slamming the kitchen door.
* * * *
Sitting in the shadows of the old barn, his face and fingers sticky with huckleberries and pastry, Leroy watches it all. I can’t stay hid forever. I guess it’s time. I sure hope Cassie’s
right and this lady has a radio.
He looks at his hands, but stops himself from wiping them on his shirt. “I’ll go wash up in the ocean first. And wait a bit for them two fellas to go.”
* * * *
Edith’s sitting on the front veranda, enjoying the sunset, eating her supper. She’s padlocked the fridge. Zeke and Otis slinked off after the row in the back yard; she hasn’t seen them all day. Well, the roof is almost done. They are dead useless at most other things. And I’d be better at rum running than they are. Good riddance if they never come back.
Looking up from her dinner, she notices a small boy with a knapsack walking along the beach. Curious, she doesn’t often see people on the beach. The boy waves and keeps walking toward her.
Edith puts down her knife and fork and waits until he’s almost to the veranda. “Hello. You’re far from home. Can I help you?”
Leroy grins. His hair is wet from recently being wiped down. His face is clean. His feet are bare, with a pair of shoes tied to the knapsack.
“Evening, ma’am. My name’s Leroy. I was going to say the same thing.”
“You were going to say what same thing?”
“Can I help you?”
Edith smiles. “Pull up a chair so it’s easier to talk. I remember you. You are that boy from the front of the café. That church man was bothering your mother.”
“Yup, that was us. Only she’s not my ma. She’s my aunt.”
“All right. Where are your folks at?”
“I got no folks. They’ve both passed, ma’am. I’ve been living with my auntie in the ‘Glades, but she thought it was time for me to move on.”
“How old are you?” Telling a boy to move on? What was she thinking?
“Ten, I reckon. We ain’t much for birthdays.” Leroy shrugs.
“You’re ten and on your own? What does she think’s going to happen to you?”
“I don’t know ma’am. I reckon I’m going to find a place that needs odd jobs done. Do you need odd jobs done?” He leans forward, a winning smile.
If Mickey and I ever had a son, he would have looked like this scamp.
Edith smiles. “Have you been here long? That sure looks like a huckleberry stain on your shirt.”
Leroy frowns, looking down at the berry juice. “I’m sorry ma’am. I’ve been hunkered down in your barn a couple of days. I didn’t know what else to do. Or where else to go. And I was hungry. And you’re a great cook. The smells coming from the kitchen were more than I could take.”
“So, you are the one sneaking into my kitchen.”
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. My auntie taught me better. I was just so hungry.”
“Why didn’t you introduce yourself right away? Why hide in the barn?”
“I was afraid you’d run me off. And then where would I be?”
Edith sits, gazing at Leroy thoughtfully. “You hungry?”
Leroy grins. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Wait here. I’m not sure what we’ll do with you, but you might as well eat while I think.”
Edith grabs a plate from the kitchen shelf and scoops some beans onto it. She adds a slice of ham. He’s all alone. Imagine sending a boy like that away. When Gator’s opens, I could use a boy to clean tables and fetch and carry. Maybe sweep up at night. He’s as good here as anywhere else. For now, anyway.
She piles on some sliced tomatoes and bread and butter. There’s no milk in the fridge, but on the way back to the veranda, she pulls the last cola out of the cooler. I guess that explains the missing soda pop, as well.
“Leroy, can you help me with this door, please. My hands are full.” She shouts through the screen door. He leaps up and pushes open the door, taking the plate from her.
“Thank you, ma’am. This looks scrump-dilly-icious.”
Edith sits, watching him eat. “You say you and your aunt live in the Everglades. Are you Seminole?”
“Yes, ma’am. Miccosukee Seminole.”
“And alone? Why not go find your people? I hear there’s a couple of Seminole communities on the Tamiami Trail that runs through the Everglades to Tampa.”
“I don’t know anyone there, ma’am.”
“Why don’t you call me Miz Edith? You don’t know anyone?”
“Nope. Just me and my aunt. She doesn’t get on with most folks.”
I can only imagine. “Have you had any schooling, Leroy?”
“Yes, ma’am. I can read and write and do sums. Aunt Cassie made sure of that.”
“I suppose I should contact the authorities and let them know you’re here—”
Leroy springs up, his chair falling backwards. “No, Miz Edith. Don’t do that. Please don’t.” His eyes are wide and his breath comes in gulps.
“Shh, hush Leroy. Pick up your chair. I’m not going to do anything tonight. What are you so scared of? Maybe the deputy sheriff can help find your family.”
Leroy shakes his head, hands on the back of the righted chair, half-turned to flee. “No, Miz Edith. You can’t. Cassie always says that the law are crooked and they’ll take me away. I can’t stay here if you do.”
“Nobody’s taking you anywhere. Sit and finish your supper. Do you want more ham?”
Sitting, Leroy shakes his head and pushes his half-finished plate away. “I’m not hungry anymore, Miz Edith. But thanks.”
Edith pushes the plate back toward him. “Eat up. I said not to worry. I’m no fan of Deputy Purvis either. Or Brother Silas, for that matter. Let’s say I do hire you on, where are you going to sleep?”
“I could keep bunking out in the barn. It’s dry, and I won’t be underfoot.”
“I suppose that might work. The only other spot would be on the floor in the kitchen. You don’t mind being out in the barn?”
“No, ma’am—”
“Miz Edith.”
“No, Miz Edith. It’s a lot like I’m used to.”
“When you were with your aunt, you slept in a barn?”
“A tent. A big camp tent. It had a wood floor. Most of the time we were either outside or under the chickee.”
Leroy explains the chickee. His voice becomes more confident. He pulls in his plate and begins to eat again.
“I can’t imagine growing up all alone out in the swamp,” Edith says.
“That’s not true. You’re alone, Miz Edith. Except for them fellas that come ‘round to help out.”
“That’s different. I can go to town or Miami. And I have friends.”
“You don’t have a husband, Miz Edith?”
“My husband died about six months ago.”
“And no kids of your own?”
“Nope. Just me.”
“At least I have my aunt for family. It must be sad to be all alone.”
Edith pauses. Mae’s a friend, but except for Maggie and Henry back in Philadelphia, that may be it. How sad is that?
“I don’t get sad. I’m too busy.”
“I get sad. I already miss my aunt.”
She stands, picking up his plate. “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow, and we’ll see how it goes. If you’re useful and still here by the end of next week, we’ll see about getting you a bed.”
Chapter 25
T he air inside the encampment’s tent is hot and close. Cassie pulls the covers tight across her cot. Her mother taught her to make the bed every morning, a practice she’s kept to all her life. Leroy’s cot is all made up. She’d found his slingshot after she’d delivered him to Gator Joe’s; tucked it on his pillow for him to find on his first visit home.
She moves across the camp, stirring the fire to life to get the coffee started. So many little tasks of Leroy’s. Oh, but she already so misses that boy.
Coffee poured, she takes the steaming cup and heads to the chickee to check in on things.
“I miss you, Koone. It just doesn’t smell the same around here without you.” Cassie chuckles. “Gotta catch my own opossum now.”
She shuffles and deals her cards. “It had better be worth it
, sending you to her. I hope living close to town is everything you thought it would be.”
Cassie pulls a card. On it, a man wearing the papal crown and outfitted with religious regalia holds a scepter. His other hand is raised in a gesture of blessing two supplicants before him. It is the Hierophant, symbolizing the bridge between heaven and earth, the internal and external worlds, bringing together body and soul. Cassie nods. The Hierophant often shows up in cards dealing with Leroy, as it is also the symbol for education. In this case, she senses it has more to do with Edith than the boy.
Addressing the empty chair across from her, she says “Stubbornness has been a strength of yours, ah-ma-chamee. Don’t let it be a weakness. Watch and learn. You’re in a new place, gotta learn new things. Leroy’s there. He can help show you the way.”
The heat rises. She sips her coffee.
“You’re pretty confident about your experience; think you know how to do things. The Hierophant‘s arrival suggests you are staying within the bounds of ‘tried and true’. You may know about Yankee bootlegging, but do you know about Florida rum-running?”
Another sip of coffee. A tug on her heart for Koone.
“I do like this next part. You’re strong enough to stand alone, ah-ma-chamee, but be smart about knowing when you need help.” She taps the card on the table. “And listen up, this is the most important part: be brave enough to ask for it.”
* * * *
Edith smooths the yellow quilt on her pretty blue bed. Turning, she sees a card with a picture of what could be the Pope or a Bishop tucked into the frame of the mirror above the dresser.
“How did this get here?” She plucks it from the mirror, turns it over, shrugs, and tosses it into the wastebasket beside the dresser.
Leroy, who is in the hallway, scrambles to rescue it and tucks it in his back pocket. “Maybe you need somebody to teach ya, Miz Edith. Somebody to show you the ropes. That’s what the card means.”
“Leroy, what are you doing in here? This is my private space. Out.” She flaps her hand to shoo him out of the room. “And take that teacher card with you. Teachers and I have never got on. I’m not good sitting quietly in a straight row full of wooden desks.”
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