Moon Over Manifest (18 page)

As the afternoon wore on, I began feeling like the miners from years ago, covered in grime. Tasting the dirt in my mouth, I imagined it to be the soot of the mines. Had their families recognized them when they’d emerged from their desolate work? Would anyone recognize me? Would anyone care? I was enjoying my pitiful thoughts. What if I died right there in that dirt? Would anyone notice?

“Death is like an explosion,” Miss Sadie said, her accent thick, like the humid air that hovered heavy around me. “It makes people take notice of things they might have overlooked.”

I sat back on my haunches, annoyed that my sorrowful thoughts had been not only interrupted but seemingly overheard. What was Miss Sadie talking about this time? Whose death?

“This is the way with the Widow Cane. Her death causes people to notice things they have overlooked,” she continued.

My mind had to work backward. I recalled the name. The abandoned mine shaft where Ned and Jinx had made their fireworks—it had been on the Widow Cane’s property near the mine. I tried to shut out the story I knew was coming, but Miss Sadie’s words pulled at me. It was like being drawn out of the dark mine, only to emerge squinting into the bright light of day. I preferred to stay lost in the darkness of my dismal thoughts.

Unbidden, Miss Sadie went on. “Mr. Devlin and his mine people have a sudden interest in that little stretch of
land near the edge of the woods that before had only been a pleasant spring and a shady place to sit between Manifest and the mine.”

I could hear it coming like a freight train and there was no stopping it. I kept my back to her.

“Lester Burton, he goes back and forth across that stretch of land. He observes it from this way and that. They even call a new geologist to make a report. The townspeople keep a watchful eye, but ask questions only among themselves.”

Keep talking. I’m not listening
.

“Before long Mr. Devlin himself pays a visit to the public land office to inquire about purchasing the land now that the Widow Cane is dead. This is his mistake. Mrs. Larkin’s neighbor works in that office. Mr. Devlin, he barely leaves his seat before half the town knows he wants to buy this land.”

I turned around, but only because I was at the end of one row and starting on another.

“He says he will use it as a picnic area for his miners to eat their lunch. It does not take a diviner to see this is a lie. He barely gives the men time to eat and they do that underground. Too much time is wasted coming up and going down for a few minutes of fresh air. The news spreads and Hadley Gillen calls a meeting. They piece together what I could have told them all along.”

She let off for a long pause, and I swear the words came without my willing them to.

“What? What could you tell them?”

Miss Sadie almost smiled. “Where the grass grows thick and animals refuse to burrow, there is ore below.”

I remembered something from an early part of Miss Sadie’s story. Jinx had seen Mr. Devlin arguing with the
mine geologist. It had been something about the coal vein taking a turn and going the wrong direction. Was that what she was talking about?

Miss Sadie picked up where my thoughts left off.

“The vein, it zigs where it should have zagged and runs right under the patch of ground between Devlin’s mine and the town of Manifest—the Widow Cane’s property. Unfortunately, after her death, it was the only patch of ground that neither side could claim as their own.…”

Jinx rushed headlong into Shady’s place. “Hey, Shady, you’re not going to believe how many bottles I sold.” He fanned a wad of money.

Shady looked furtively toward the front door as dusk set in. “Now’s probably not a good time.”

Jinx continued, not noticing Shady’s uneasiness. “Your hooch and Velma T.’s elixir are a match made in heaven. It’s been less than two weeks and just about everybody in town—”

“Quite a few of those folks are going to be showing up here any minute for Hadley’s meeting.”

“Why here?”

“Because Hadley only invited one or two people from each fraternal order and he doesn’t want Burton knowing about it. After the cross burning in front of the German hall, folks are a little on edge. But they’re coming, and the way
Eudora Larkin’s been doggin’ me all week after that episode at the Women’s Temperance League meeting, I have a feeling she’ll be not far behind them. Your elixir made a lasting impression on her.”

Jinx’s mouth dropped open. “She bought a bottle from Velma T., not me. Besides, who told her to drink a whole bottle in one sitting?” He hesitated. “Do you think she knows we did a little tampering with it?”

“You’ve been selling it all over town, so I think she might have a pretty good idea.”

Jinx grimaced. “Well, there was extra and I figured I was doing Velma T. a favor to get her elixir out among the ailing public.”

“I’m sure that was your utmost priority,” Shady said with a sideways glance.

They heard footsteps crunching on the gravel outside.

“Quick,” Shady whispered. He hoisted up a movable panel behind the bar that revealed a hidden stash of whiskey bottles.

“What’s that for?” Jinx asked in astonishment.

“It’s for hiding things. What’s it look like? Get in and stay there.” Jinx barely had time to stuff his wad of money into his overalls and crawl inside before the front door opened.

The space was dark and cramped. Jinx shifted to find a more comfortable position and noticed a pinhole of light. He strained to reach it and placed his eye against a perfect peephole, through which he could see most of the bar’s seating area of small wooden tables and chairs.

It was Chester Thornhill who entered. Chester was a regular customer, who knew nothing of any meeting. “Evening, Shady. I’ll have a shot.”

Jinx heard Shady behind the bar. “Evening, Chester. Going to have a quick one tonight? I’ll bet the missus is waiting for you.”

“I’m in no hurry,” Chester said.

The front door opened again and more people arrived. Jinx watched from his hiding space.

Chairs shifted and scraped 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 Mass 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 blustered 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 glasses 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 glass 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 glass 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 glasses.

“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 nutshell, 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 passed
away July first and left no heirs. Therefore, her estate is considered in probate, or in holding.”

Those assembled 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 bloody 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 assenting 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 glass 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?