The Preacher

Standing on the graveyard grass, looking down at the freshly filled grave, stood the Preacher, dressed in black, and wearing a black, circular wide brim hat; there was not a headstone as of yet, but the Preacher knew the name of the occupant. It was his brother. Five days previously, he had murdered the man who now lay under the earth at his feet. The Preacher did not want to kill this one, but felt he had to, and he knew with a certainty that he would have to kill again, and soon.

After saying a prayer over his brother’s buried body, the Preacher walked slowly back to the highway. As he walked, he thought of how unnecessary the killing of his brother had been. All his brother had to do was not interfere in the Lord’s work. It should have made no difference that the work involved the killing of Junior McGuire.

As the Preacher walked, he thought back to his last conversation with his brother.

“You must not interfere.”

“You’ve been killing since you were a boy. But you was family, so I held my own peace.”

“I am family to man.”

“You always were different, even when we was kids. But now you come to town and tell me you must take Junior McGuire. Well, Junior is a friend of mine. He’s the mayor of this town for God’s sake.”

“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain. Are those your last words on the matter?”

“Yup, I just can’t let you kill Junior McGuire.”

The conversation replayed itself repeatedly in the Preacher’s mind.

Now that there were no more obstacles, The Preacher could be about the Lord’s work. And this time the Lord’s work was the quick dispatch of Junior McGuire.

The Preacher had been at this work a long time. Sometimes he wearied of the mission the Lord had bestowed upon him. However, he believed that no matter how weary, he must persevere until he was allowed a rest, or brought to his just reward.

The walk from the graveyard into town was a short one. Before he knew it, the Preacher found himself standing in front of McGuire’s Dry Goods Emporium. Without hesitation, The Preacher entered and sought out the McGuire. The store was empty, but filled with people, or not, it made no difference to the Preacher, he was about God’s work. He proceeded to the back room, where he encountered a man of about fifty, stacking cartons in a corner of the room. The Preacher inquired of the man, “Are you McGuire?” When an affirmative response was forthcoming, the Preacher laid his hands upon the sinner.

The Preacher had been at this so long, he felt as though he could see the soul of the damned leave the body and pass through the floorboards on its way to perdition. As the Preacher left McGuire’s Emporium, he thought to himself, “I pray the time never comes when I enjoy this work.”

The Death of Fighting Woman

Captain Murray loved his wife Mary with all his heart. She had been a dutiful wife, and the first years of their marriage were the happiest years of his life. But, now in the tenth year of their marriage, Mary had withered, become drawn, a shell of the beautiful young girl he had married. And Captain William Murray knew the reason why.

They had tried for years to have a child, all to no avail. As each succeeding year passed, and it became more evident that they were not to be blessed with children Mary had gone within. She followed him from posting to posting like the good military wife she was, but she was slowly dying, and Captain William Murray knew it.

These were his thoughts as he entered the Indian village before dawn on that cold winter morn. His scouts did not report to him that the men of the village had left the night before on a hunting party. This winter, what with the White Man killing off the buffalo for sport, there was no food. The women and children of the village were hungry. The men of the village, they would go without, but they would not stand by and allow their women and children to do without.
It would not have mattered to Captain Murray if he had known there were no braves in the village, he was an ambitious man, and his orders were to destroy the village and kill as many of its inhabitants as possible. And those were the orders he gave his men.

Captain Murray stayed on the edge of the village as his men went from teepee to teepee setting them ablaze. If a woman, or child emerged from a burning teepee, they were immediately shot, if the were lucky. Captain Murray witnessed women being pillaged and children having their brains knocked out of them with the stock of a rifle.

As Captain Murray was passing a teepee, which had not yet been put to torch, he heard a baby’s cry. For some unknown reason the wail drew him to it as a siren’s call. He dismounted and entered the teepee. As he entered a women ran at him with a knife. Before she got to within striking distance, he drew his gun and shot her through the right eye, and as the bullet exited her head, it took with it a large portion of her skull. Captain Murray heard a noise behind him and saw what appeared to be a boy of about ten years of age running at him, also with a knife drawn, with the business end pointing directly at him. The boy, for his trouble, also received a bullet to the head, though it did not exit his skull. As the boy collapsed onto the ground, Captain Murray took stock of his surroundings, and it was at that moment he saw the reason for his being in this particular teepee. It was a baby Indian, no this baby had yellow hair. He immediately thought of Mary, and how taking care of a child would bring the bloom back into her cheeks; without really thinking it through, he wrapped the child in the skins in which it was lying and left the teepee. A corporal was just passing, and he ordered the man to set fire to the teepee he had just exited.

Captain William Murray had just killed the entire family of Yellow Wing, with the exception of Yellow Wing’s youngest son, which he now intended to raise as his own.

The Death of Jacob Ariesen

Jacob Ariesen was born on Ariesen’s Two Acres, in the Year of Our Lord, 1830. Ariesen’s Two Acres was given to Jacob’s maternal grandfather for services rendered. However, at the time it was not known by that name. The acres came unto the Ariesen family when Jacob’s father married his mother. After awhile folks started calling the property Ariesen’s Two Acres. Jacob was never able to ascertain what services his grandfather had rendered, or to whom, that got his grandfather his plot of land. The property was located on the outskirts of Concord Massachusetts.
At twenty Jacob was a tall, but lanky lad, who stood six feet, two inches in his stocking feet. His bright yellow hair denoted his Dutch ancestry. His features were comely, but one would not call him handsome. His eyes were the most pronounced feature about him. They were a very light blue, with specks of yellow throughout the iris. When Jacob looked into a person’s eyes, his gaze seemed to penetrate that person’s soul.
On the Acres was a most unique house, it was more a cellar than a house. Jacob’s father had built it himself a year before Jacob was born. He first dug a square pit in the ground eighty feet long, half as wide, and seven feet deep. He then lined the walls with wood all around to keep the earth from falling in. Then a floor was laid with plank. A pitched roof was raised, and covered with sod. Partitions were put in place as the family grew, so each child had a room of their own. It was a good house. It was warm in the winter and cool in the heat of summer. It was also a loving home. Once when he was about ten years of age, and after being teased by the other children, Jacob asked his father why they had to live in house that was so different from those of his friends.
His father sat Jacob down, and told him of the first Ariesen to come to the United States, before it was the United States. At the time, it was called New Netherland and it extended from New York to portions of New England. When the first Ariesen arrived he had no time to build a house, he had to get his crops planted before it was too late in the season. So he built a house like the one Jacob now lived in. It was supposed to be temporary, a few years at most, but as time went on, this first Ariesen became aware of the benefits of living in such a house. Those first New Netherland winters were harsh. The Ariesen family was the only family that did not succumb to sickness in those years. Some families lost loved ones from pneumonia, and the like. So, concluded Jacob’s father, “That was two hundred years ago, and the Ariesens have lived in these ‘ground houses’ ever since.” He added, “You just tell your friends that the wind does not blow through your house as it does theirs.”
Jacob’s father was an innocuous man. He earned his living by doing whatever needed doing in the town of Concord; from mending bridles, to sweeping out back rooms. He had helped build more than one of the fine houses that the rich seem to prefer to a more a utilitarian home. He did not make a substantial living, though his family never went without the necessities. There was always food in the larder, and his children were never cold in winter for lack of a winter coat. The coat may have had a sown rent, or a patch, but it kept them warm. In short, Jacob’s father was a good provider to his family. He worked hard year round, and did not partake of the drinking down at the public house, at least not too much. But he always wished for more. He wanted Jacob’s mother to have the fine clothes he saw other women wearing. He wanted to provide a better future for Jacob and his two younger sisters. That is why in the winter of 1850 he came home, and announced to his family that he had sold the Acres, and they were all going to California.
Jacob’s mother asked, “Isn’t that expensive?” Jacob’s older sister burst into tears and declared that she was not going to leave all her friends. Jacob’s younger sister asked, “Where’s California?” And Jacob was just stunned. His father explained to his mother that they had enough to get to a jumping off point in Missouri, with plenty left over to provision them for the trip, including a team and a wagon.
Jacob’s father explained to his family that a few months earlier there had been a gold strike in California, at a place called Sutter’s Mill. And, there was gold just lying on the ground as big as hen’s eggs, just waiting to be picked up. “So, we’re going to be the first people there before all the gold is gone,” said he.
Jacob’s mother did what good wives did in those days; she resigned herself to her husband’s wishes. Jacob’s older sister continued to cry. Jacob’s younger sister said, “As long as there is gold, and I can have a gold bracelet, I want to go.” And Jacob, once he got over his initial shock, thought that that this would not augur well for the family. And in that respect, he was quite right.
They had a week before they had to vacate the house and property. In addition, there was so much to do no one thought to ask Jacob’s father for the details of how they were going to get to Missouri; and once there, what town would be their jumping off point. A jumping off point was the town from which the wagon trains departed. They were the last out post of civilization. The two main jumping off points were Independence and St. Joseph Missouri. But, down to the public house, there had been talk of brigands working out of those towns. “They were dangerous places, filled with thieves and cutthroats, who’d just as soon rob you and leave you for dead as look at you. If a man was foolish enough to traverse to, and have commerce with, either local, then he deserved the fate that awaited him,” so said old Jim Varney. Jim had said, “Go to Westport, Missouri. It is a much smaller town, filled with God fearin’ people.” How old Jim Varney, who had never ventured more than thirty miles from Concord his entire life, knew this, he did not say. It was said of old Jim, that he had an oracular way about him, and in matters of great import, he was never wrong. Therefore, based on what old Jim Varney said, Jacob’s father decided to take the family to Westport, Missouri. In reality, each jumping off town sent out word that the others were dark and dangerous places, filled with all sort of miscreants. There was much money to be made from the people who flocked to Missouri each spring, and every town wanted more than its share.
How to get there was a different matter all together. At the beginning of 1850 train travel consisted of making a portion of the journey by train, detraining to catch a barge on a canal, going in your general direction, and then perhaps hiring someone with a wagon to take you to the next set of tracks, owned by a completely different railroad company. The moneyed, hired private coaches. The closest train tracks to St. Louis that would do the Ariesen family any good terminated at the Pennsylvania, West Virginia boarder. St Louis was to be their first destination. There the sojourners would catch a boat that would take them two hundred miles due west on the Missouri River. When the river turned north, the travelers would disembark and, and if Jacob’s father had not already purchased a wagon, hire one of the waiting wagons to take them into Westport. In the spring, there were always wagons in the offing for the people who were coming to make the two thousand mile trek on the California-Oregon Trail. It was a very good business.
The week after Jacob’s father sold the Acres went by very fast, but not as fast as spring was seemingly approaching. If the family arrived in Westport too late in the season, they would have to wait another year before making the Trail. The day arrived for the family to depart. Jacob’s father was held in high esteem by the men folk of the town, they all wished it was them starting-off on the great adventure, while their women clucked their tongues at such foolishness. Jacob’s father had hired a wagon to take them into Boston, where they would catch the first of many trains. More than a few townspeople turned out to wish them well on their journey. As Jacob turned his head to catch a last glimpse of the receding town of Concord, he knew with a certainty that he would never see California.
The trip to St. Louis took longer, and was more arduous than expected. There were places that had no transport to the next terminus, and it took Jacob’s father a day or more to secure a wagon. Things would have been easier if there had been more canals, as Jacob’s father had envisioned. Once they reached the final terminus at the West Virginia line, it was three weeks before Jacob’s father found someone willing to transport the family and its meager belongings to St. Louis. Jacob’s father had thought the entire journey from West Virginia to St. Louis would take at the most two weeks. Jacob’s father envisioned many things that did not transpire.
The family Ariesen arrived in St. Louis on the ninth of April 1850. The city was a hive of activity, with people bustling this way and that. The streets were crowded, wagons were stuck in the mud, and that seemed to be all the streets consisted of, mud; the spring floods were in full bloom. The first consideration was to find shelter, but every hotel, boarding house, and yes even the flophouses, to which Jacob’s father would not have subjected his family to at any rate, were full. While speaking with a gentleman who wanted to sell him a wagon and team, Jacob’s father was told of a tent city to the north of town where he might be able to rent a tent by the day or week. “Space is in short supply, and it gets worse everyday with all them greenhorns a comin’ in. No offence.” “Non taken,” replied Jacob’s father.
Jacob’s father found his way to the tent city all right, but once there, he had the dickens of a time coming to terms with the proprietor. After fifteen minutes of back-and-forth, a price was agreed upon, $1.50 per night. Which, as Jacob’s father saw it, was highway robbery. “This man who owns the tent city must be one of the brigands Jim Varney warned me about,” thought Jacob’s father as he left to collect his family. On the way, he thought of his friend back in Concord, Henry, who night after night in the pubic house would preach to him his Gospel of Simplification. He remembered Henry telling him, “The cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life, which is required to be exchanged for it.” “Well, I sure just exchanged a good portion of my life for a few days in a leaky tent. Henry was right after all. What was that crazy Frenchman’s name, Theroux, Thoreau, something like that? Though I gotta’ hand it to him, he spoke good American for a Frenchman.”
When Jacob’s father had gathered his clan together, and shepherd them to their tent, he told them that they were leaving on the next boat, that this was an evil town, and the faster they quit it the better. His plan was to provision and buy the wagon and team in Westport, where the God fearin’ people were.
Jacob had been regulated to the duty of watching over his mother and sisters, while his father ran about St. Louis exploring “the lay of the land,” as his father described his daily forays. Therefore, there was not much for Jacob to do for those three days but sit and think. And, the more he thought, the more he dreaded what his father had in mind for the family. Was his father thinking clearly? A two thousand mile trek across a mostly unexplored continent was not a walk in a bower. They had brought nothing with them; they were supposed to obtain all they needed in Westport. “That friend of father’s, the one who walked beside the wagon as we left town. What did he say? It was something about the savage. What was it? Yes, that was it. ‘The savage folds his home when he wants for greener pastures. Don’t over stock; you need only the clothes you wear,’ poor pixilated Henry.” The amusement of thinking of his father’s friend did not last long. His thoughts turned to whether he should meekly go along with his fathers plan, or step up and register a protest. After all, as he was twenty and just about to his majority, he should have some say in matters of this sort where his entire future was involved.
In their short amount of time in St. Louis, Jacob had heard that most people die of cholera on the Trail. It was not Indian attack that the traveler feared; it was the mysterious killer cholera. He had been told that there is no medicine that will cure it, and a person could go from being healthy and sound to dead in just a few hours. He was told of the train of two years ago that lost three quarters of its people to the disease. And if cholera did not get you, you were more apt to be accidently shot, or run over by a wagon wheel than harmed by a savage. Jacob had no fear of Indians; in fact, he knew quite a few back in Concord. They worked at odd jobs, sold fish, or baskets door to door; they did not fold their wigwams and migrate to greener pastures. In fact, they did not live in wigwams; they lived in houses like everyone else. Jacob wondered if his father knew of the cholera and the other hazards of the Trail. Jacob was graveled as what to do. In the end he decided to put his misgivings aside, be a dutiful son and follow his father. For aught he knew, his father was right, and the family would be better off in California.
Jacob’s father returned to the tent that evening and informed his brood that they would be leaving first thing in the morning. He had booked them passage on the steamboat, “Andy Jackson,” an old, but dependable paddle wheeler. He did not tell his family that the extra time spent in getting to St. Louis, and once there the exorbitant prices one had to pay for everything, had seriously depleted the family’s coffers. Why, what they had to pay for breakfast this morning was the pinch of the game for him. Imagine, 40 ¾ cents for griddlecakes! Just for the five of them. No, they would have to get to Westport, and provision before their money ran out.
The next morning found the family Ariesen on the deck of the “Andy Jackson” headed west. Jacob’s father breathed a sigh of relief to have departed the sinful St. Louis. Jacob on the other hand felt dread with each mile that took them closer to Westport, and what else he knew not; but he felt in his soul that it was not going to be good. As the “Andy Jackson” approached Westport, the people on her decks gathered at the bow to get their first look at what would very shortly be the last piece of civilization they saw for half a year. For some on that bow it would be the last sight of civilization they would ever see, including Jacob Ariesen.
As the “Andy Jackson” approached the wharf, she started backing and filling to ensure a smooth docking. Jacob was told by his father to collect the women folk and to meet him at the gangplank. The family assembled at the appointed place along with the rest of the passengers. The throng moved and jostled, with everyone trying to be the first off. Jacob quietly moved his mother and sisters to one side and waited; he did not know where his father was. As he stood there watching that crowd of humanity, with all wanting to be the first off the boat, he thought, “First off, and into what?” While thinking this, he turned to observe the carrying on of the people below him on the dock. The grist of bodies repelled him and started him thinking again of this venture his father was hell bent on seeing to the end.
Those below him appeared as a swarm of buzzing gallnippers out for blood, his and his family’s blood. There seemed to be many a bad egg milling about down there. As these dark thoughts were occupying his attention, his father had walked up without him noticing. His father shook him by the arm and asked, “Thinking of all the gold waiting for us in California?” Jacob did not think this was the time to speak of the grave misgivings he was experiencing, so he simply nodded a nod of agreement and smiled. In a hushed tone, Jacob’s father said,” I want to show you something.” He then unbuttoned his coat and lifted the left side flap, exposing a large revolver. “Ain’t she a beaut?” he asked. Jacob just said, “Why?” “A man back at the stern sold it to me. He told me Westport isn’t much better than St. Louis, and that a man had to protect himself.” Jacob’s father had never own a gun, and as far as Jacob knew, had never even fired one. Jacob thought his father was going mad with gold fever. It was the only explanation he could figure for this journey, and his father’s later actions, such as buying a gun. Jacob thought his father was more apt to shoot himself than a boarder ruffian. “I sure hornswoggled that gent,” his father boasted; “He got the little end of the horn all right.” The gun and his father’s statement repulsed Jacob. His father had never cheated another man, and now here he was boasting of it. However, Jacob did not have time to dwell on this turn of events, the line was moving and he had to go to his mother and sisters.
The family dutifully got in the debarkation line. Jacob’s father at the head of the family, Jacob at the rear, and the women sandwiched between them. As they neared the bottom of the gangway, Jacob’s father turned his head, and yelled over his shoulder to Jacob, “Take care of your mother and sisters, “I’ve got business to attend to.” At this alarming bit of news, Jacob went across lots through the throng to head off his father before the crowd cut them off from one another. Upon reaching his father, Jacob implored him not to leave the family until they had at least secured lodging for the night. His father gave Jacob two dollars and told him to find a clean and decent place for a couple of nights. “And I want proper change back,” said his father. With that, he absquatulated into the crowd. As he disappeared into the conflux of humanity, Jacob could only watch in amazement the retreating figure of his father. The man who just handed him the two dollars did not act in the same manner as the man who had reared him.
Jacob returned to his mother and sisters and escorted them through the myriad of hawkers and drummers, selling everything from charms for the protection from cholera, to Dr. Dennison’s Tooth Powder. Just as he was jostled by a young boy carrying a shoat, Jacob Ariesen came unto his own. He knew with a certainty that if his mother and sisters were to survive the next seven months he would have to assume the mantel of head of the family. His father could no longer be counted on to make rational decisions.
At first he was stymied, he knew not what he should do next. However, within seconds, Jacob Ariesen became a man. The transformation necessitated his next action. Without further dilatoriness, he escorted his mother and sisters to a waiting wagon, asked the man tending the horse if it was his wagon. “Yes, indeed it is,” was the answer to Jacob’s query. Jacob then asked the cost of transport to the nearest decent establishment in which he and his family could find shelter. “For the paltry amount of fifty cents I’ll take you anywhere in Westport, you and yours wanna’ go.” In 1850, fifty cents was not a paltry amount, and it was with certitude, not a paltry amount to Jacob. But, it was paltriness to the good people of Westport Missouri who two thousand miles from the gold fields of California had struck gold of another sort.
Jacob’s first impulse to was walk into town rather then succumb to the chicanery of the man who stood before him. However, upon careful reflection he deemed it inadvisable, considering his mother and sisters, not to mention their luggage. Instead, he told his mother and sisters to get into the wagon, and handed their luggage up after them. When he had finished, he climbed up next to the driver and said, “Take us to a lodging house that is appropriate for my family,” and as he said, “My family,” the weight of responsibility descended upon him tenebrously.
The driver smiled and informed Jacob, “That’ll be fifty cents, in advance.” Jacob simply said, “I’ll pay you when we get there.” There was something in the lad’s voice that spoke of steel, of grit, that caused the smile on the driver’s face to do a slow fade. “Perhaps the tenderfoot should not be trifled with”; and with that thought, the driver gave the reins a shake and said, “Let’s go Betsy.”
Westport was smaller than St. Louis and even more congested, if that were possible. As they drove through the streets, Jacob saw men, women, and children scurrying hither and fro, as though Judgment Day were upon them. There were many Dry Goods shops, a multitude of blacksmith sheds, with their ceaseless banging, as mules were readied for the Trail. Many of the shops were nothing more than tents erected helter skelter. They also passed many wagons going in the opposite direction, filled with families, the father at the reins, his wife beside him, and the children peering out the back flap at the wonderland that was Westport. Jacob saw a tableau consisting of two men, with one man holding a knife on the other. The people who passed them by on the street seemed to take no notice of the scene unfolding before them. As Jacob observed these sights, the dread, which had settled within since his father bought the gun, increase many fold.
Their destination was reached before Jacob knew it. He had been deep in thought when he was roused from his contemplation by the driver saying, “Here we are folks, all safe and sound.” Jacob looked at the building, which stood before him, and thought, “Well. It looks decent enough.” Jacob asked the driver to attend to their baggage while he helped the women from the wagon. The driver started to tell Jacob that, “Haulin’ grips ain’t included in the price,” but thought better of it when he looked into Jacob’s eyes.
As the family assembled on the portico of the hotel, Jacob told the driver to wait while he went in to get the change in which to pay him. The driver frowned at this bit of news, but said nothing. Jacob traversed the lobby of the hotel and informed the man behind the counter that he and his family would be staying for a few nights, but first he needed change of a dollar to pay off the man who had brought them there. When the man heard what Jacob had said, he smiled and asked, “You mean a little short fella', horse’s name’s Betsy?” Jacob agreed that yes that was the man. To which the man behind the counter turned to a man behind him sorting mail and said, “You hear that Marvin, ‘ol Charlie got ‘iself another one?” Then turned back to Jacob saying, “You greenhorns should know by now there ain’t a room in all of Westport; ‘ol Charlie been doin’ this for weeks, haulin’ you suckers into town, chargin’ ya’ fifty cents, and letting ya’ think there’s a room to be had when there ain’t.” Jacob said nothing; he just turned, walked back through the lobby, exited the front door, and stepped upon the portico where “ol Charlie was waiting for his fifty cents. He then proceeded to grab Charlie by scuff of the neck and the back of the pants, and tossed him into the mud at Betsy’s feet. He then gathered his family, brought them into the hotel lobby, and told them to sit while he tried to figure the best course of action. “Where was father” kept repeating itself in his mind.
Jacob decided that the best thing to do would be to go out into Westport and try to find his father. Jacob announced his decision to his mother, and it was at that moment that what Jacob had feared all day long finally happened. The older of his two sisters stood up and said, “If you think I am going to sit here like a bump on a log while you and father go traipsing about, you’ve got another thing coming Jacob Ariesen.” Jacob looked to his mother for support, and all she said was, “If you go out, take your sister with you like a good boy.” Jacob had never disobeyed his mother and he was not about to start now. So he said to his sister,” If you’re coming, let’s go.”
They walked out of the hotel’s front door and turned right. Jacob had no idea where to start looking for his father. He thought that if they went up one side of the street to its end, and then do they same on the other side, and If they kept at it, they would find him eventually. The main thoroughfare, based on their trip into town, was quite bit longer than Jacob had imagined. They walked fifteen minutes without seeing the skirts of the town. As Jacob and his sister passed a small alley, or walkway between two buildings they heard, “Hey Bub and Sis.” As Jacob turned to see from where, and from whom, the call was made, he saw a rather large man emerge from the shadows of the way; and with a surreptitious glance in both directions, made motion for Jacob to approach. “Hey boy, ya’ wanna’ buy a Arkansas Toothpick? It was my pappy’s, had it with him when he was with Andy Jackson in ’14; got him a mess of Injun scalps with this blade.” Now Jacob had no idea what an Arkansas Toothpick was, but something drove him nearer the man. When Jacob was within a few feet of the man, the man pulled a very large knife out of his belt. “Ya’ ever seen a toothpick liken this boy?” No, Jacob had to admit he had never seen a knife quite like that before. Then he thought that a weapon of some sort might come in handy, considering the environment. Therefore, Jacob asked, “How much do you want?” “Just a measly five dollars boy.” Jacob informed the would be knife seller that he did not have that much and started to turn to leave, when he heard, “That’s a peart nice Sis ya’ got there, maybe we can come to some kinda’ arrangement.” Jacob said nothing for a moment, he just stood motionless. After a few seconds, he said to his sister, “You go to the Dry Goods store down the street, inquire into the prices of flower, bacon, and the like. I’ll meet up with you in a minute.” Jacob had two reasons for sending his sister to the Dry Goods store; he did want to know the prices they would have to contend with as they provisioned for the Trail. And, he had business to conduct with the gentleman with the knife, and a man’s business affairs are no concern of women folk.
The metamorphosis that had been taking place in Jacob since his father first told them of this fantastic journey, that had been building the entire journey from Concord, and accelerated in the few short hours since he stepped off the “Andy Jackson,” was approaching a climax. Jacob Ariesen had gone from a docile, dutiful son, to a man willing to kill to protect those he loved. Jacob turned to the man and said, “Yes, I think we can make a deal, May I see the knife?” When the knife was handed to Jacob he looked it over carefully before saying, “What makes you think you can insult my sister with me standing right here?” To which the large man replied, “Ya’ goin’ dirk me with my own blade boy?” It was then that Jacob moved with a swiftness that surprised both men. He stuck the point of the knife up under the man’s chin and pressed until a small rivulet of blood trickled down the bright, silver like blade, obscuring Jacob’s reflection. “I asked you a question, what makes you think you can insult my sister with me standing here?” I didn’t know she was your sister!” “Then why did you refer to her as Sis?” “It’s just a sayin’, you know, them’s just words mister, Bub and Sis.” “Then how about I kill you because I just don’t like the way you look?” Jacob then drove the blade in a little deeper, and said, “I’m keeping this knife in payment for the insult, and if I see you on the street again I going to slit your throat with your pappy’s knife, and then I’m going scalp you with it. Got it?” “Yes sir, no offence intended.” “Now turn and walk back from where you came.” Jacob then removed the knife from under the man’s chin and took one-step back, staring the man in the eyes the whole time. The man turned, but did not walk; he ran back though the alleyway. Of course, Jacob had no intention of harming the man if at some future date their paths should cross; he just thought it prudent to instill some fear into him so there would be no unpleasant repercussions if indeed they should ever meet again.
Jacob wiped the blood from the knife and slid it into his belt; he then went to collect his sister. As he stepped out of the alley, he saw his father across the street, but because of the mud, crossing the street would be no easy task. So, he called to his father, who turned and saw Jacob. His father held up one hand, index finger pointing skyward, indicating wait a moment. His father then scurried about fifty feet up the street and engaged a man in what seemed a heated discussion. Then to Jacob’s amazement, the man turned his back to his father, and his father hopped upon the man’s back; as a small child is carried in the game of piggyback. The man then proceeded to cross the street, stepping gingerly, for if he slipped, or fell, and dropped his charge, he would not be paid. While this was going on, Jacob went to fetch his sister, which was no easy task. It was the first store she had been to in almost two months, and she was recalcitrant to leave when bid by Jacob. As Jacob and his sister exited the store, their father reached the terminus of his trip. He alighted from his carrier’s back, reached into his pants pocket, drew out some change, and handed the man a nickel, the agreed upon price. Men like the one who transported Jacob’s father were plentiful in Westport in the spring. They made a fair living during the rain and flood months transporting people across the main thoroughfare.
As the Ariesens met up, Jacob started to ask his father where he had been, but before he could get the words out, his father said, “Got us a team and wagon. Had to plank down hard cold cash, but the neat and wagon will hold up on the trail. We’ll get the longest use out them.” By neat, Jacob’s father meant oxen; he had already embraced the nomenclature of Westport. He finished by saying, “We’re not quite as poor as Job’s turkey, we’ve still got enough to provision.” “What the hell is father talking about,” thought Jacob. He then mentally regretted using a swear word, he had been taught better. Then he once again used the malediction, “The hell with it! We are not in Concord anymore.” And with that, he turned to catch up with the rapidly retreating figures of his father and his sister, who were already five paces ahead of him.
Jacob caught up with his father and sister, and after a few steps he asked his father, “What are our plans, when do we provision, when do we leave.” “Boy, the train leaves in two-and-a-weeks, the first of the month, by then the grass of the prairie will have grown high enough to feed our team. That gives up plenty of time to provision up and make ready.” Jacob was just glad is father did not say, “High enough to feed the neat.”
The next information Jacob had to convey to his father was the lack of living accommodations in Westport. “Doesn’t matter squat, there’s a staging area at the skirts of town, we’ll camp there until “Westward Ho” is called, it’ll give us good practice for the Trail.” “How does he know all this,” thought Jacob. “But what about tonight?” His father responded with, “Made a deal with the gent I bought the team and wagon from; we can camp a night or two behind his blacksmithy shop, that is where the wagon is now. He stared to ask another question but was cut off by his father, “Jacob I’ll tell you all you need to know, but let’s first collect your mother and other sister and get something to eat. I’m sure your mother and sisters are about ready.” “Yes sir,” was Jacob’s only response. When they reached the hotel, they found Jacob’s youngest sister ensconced in the mud of the street, making mud pies. Her mother sat in a chair on the portico watching over her.
The only place to eat that was not jammed to the rafters, seeing as how it was suppertime, was a groggery, a cheap drinking establishment that also served food. The family had their evening meal and proceeded to the blacksmith’s shop to behold their home for the next seven or eight months. When Jacob saw the wagon, he was surprised at the size of the thing. It was nothing but a farm wagon. He had expected something larger, like a Conestoga wagon, something with grit. Jacob said to his father,” Wouldn’t it be better if we had Conestoga instead of this little thing?” To which his father replied,” You can’t control a Conestoga as you can this little beauty. Look here Jacob, underneath; it’s got a kingpin so the front wheels can pivot.” Jacob got up from underneath the wagon and inspected the wagon bed. It measured about ten feet long and four feet wide, there was a toolbox secured to one side, and a water barrel on the other. Jacob then asked about the team, “Where are they, did you get mules?” “They’re grazing at the smithy’s place. And no, I didn’t get mules. They’re too ornery and cantankerous. Got us four of the finest oxen you ever saw. Unlike mules, a team of oxen can pull a wagon through mud like it was paved road. And they’ll eat anything on the trail, we don’t have haul feed for them like you’d do for mules. Just can’t beat oxen on the trail”
Jacob was now vexed, his father seemed to have everything well in hand. Perhaps his premonition of disaster on the Trail was incorrect. “But it was so vivid, as though I could almost see what was in store for us on the Trail,” thought Jacob. But there was not much Jacob could do at this point, but give his father his head. However, he would keep a vigilant eye on things and be ready to step in if needed. He would not fail his mother and sisters. Jacob was unaware of the axiom, “Love, and fate. Of the two, fate is the stronger.” Despite his best efforts, Jacob could do nothing to save his family from the fate that awaited them on the Trail.
It was decided that Jacob’s mother and sisters would sleep under the wagon to keep off the nightly moisture, and Jacob and his father would sleep in the wagon. After the family settled in for the night and just before falling off to sleep, Jacob asked his father what the plans were for tomorrow. “Tomorrow we start provisioning. We’ll bring what we buy back in lots, your mother and sisters will stay with the wagon to keep an eye on things.” As Jacob fell off to sleep he thought, “Well at least not much can go wrong provisioning.” And he was right.
The family awoke the next morning, and after securing their morning meal, Jacob and his father set out to provision up. They were going to need about 1500 pounds of supplies. Jacob’s father had ascertained the amounts from the man who was to lead the wagons to the sea, Jamison Cody, or as he was better known around Westport, Big Jim Cody. Big Jim had told Jacob’s father that each family should carry 200 pounds of flour, 150 pounds of bacon, 20 pounds sugar, and 10 pounds of coffee and salt each. “That’s all ya’ goin’ be living on for six months,” said Big Jim Cody. He also said, “You run outta’ somethin’ and it’s goin’ cost you to re-up at one of the trading post along the way.” Hell, a pint of flour will cost ya’ a dollar, when you can git it here for four dollars a barrel” On the Trail the diet consisted oh hoe-cakes, a kind of bread that was cooked over an open fire on the end of a stick, and bacon. “We got us buffalo the first third of the way, but then it’s hoe-cakes and bacon until you hate the sight of ‘em,” said Big Jim.
Jacob and his father spent the day buying supplies and hauling them back to the wagon where the women packed them, being very careful to distribute the weight evenly. After two days of buying provisions, they were packed and ready to move on to the staging area north of town. As he started too lead the oxen, his father shouted, “Damn, I forgot something. Jacob run down to the first Dry Goods store you see and get a bottle of linseed oil, here’s fifty cents. Also get a peppermint stick for each of your sisters and one for yourself if you want.” Linseed oil was rubbed into the cotton covers of the wagons in a vain attempt to waterproof them, but the covers leaked anyway. The peppermint sticks were to mollify Jacob’s sisters who had been cranky all day.
When Jacob returned, he handed the candy to his sisters who were situated in the back of the wagon with their mother, and stored the linseed oil behind the seat. With his task completed, he walked to the front of the team and took of hold of the lead pair’s yoke. His father stood opposite him on the other side of the oxen. His hand also was upon the yoke. Jacob’s father said let’s go, and he and Jacob started leading the team. With that, the family Ariesen was off on the first leg of their two thousand mile journey, the five miles to the staging camp on the outskirts of Westport.
By the time the Ariesen’s left the blacksmith’s shop it had started to get dark. And by the time they were nearing the staging camp it was completely dark, but the family had no trouble knowing where to go; they could see the campfires from a mile away. Jacob and his father led the oxen to the edge of camp where Jacob was told by his father to light the lantern and search for smooth ground. “We don’t want to be sleeping on any large stones.” After Jacob found an appropriate local, his father walked the oxen over and said, “Give me a hand unyoking these beasts. From this point onwards, they come first, for without them we are dead.” Jacob wished his father had not put it in those terms, given his already high state of apprehension. Once the oxen were unyoked and hobbled, the family dined on hardtack and biscuits, the oxen grazed on nearby sage. The sleeping arrangements basically remained the same; the women slept under the wagon, the men on the ground next to it, one on each side of the wagon. This was done so that if anyone, or anything, wanted at the female members of the Ariesen family, they, or it, would have to go through a male member of the Ariesen family.
The family awoke to a cacophony of sound all around them. Jacob’s father, as was his custom since they had reach St. Louis, was already out, and about on one of his forays to discover the “lay of the land.” That left it to Jacob to inquire at their nearest neighbor as to the location of the privy. He was informed that there were two trenches on opposite sides of the encampment, one for the men, and one for the women. Jacob inquired which side was for the women and was told, “East, boy East.”
Jacob took this news back to his mother and offered to escort them. “Don’t be silly, we’re going to have to start fending for ourselves sooner or later. You can’t hover over us for two thousand miles, dear boy.” When his mother and sisters had left, Jacob made his way over to the men’s side of the camp. When he returned his mother was in the process of filling a coffee pot with water. She asked him if he could find enough firewood for a fire. At first glance, it did not look likely, but always the dutiful son he set off to see what he could find.
When he returned with his meager findings, the area was well played out as far as firewood was concerned, his sisters were arranging stones in a circular pattern to encompass their fires. As Jacob handed the wood to his sister, he thought, “Where the hell is father?” This time he did not mentally winch at using a swear word. No, this time it came quite naturally. Now that it was daylight, Jacob could see that there were about thirty, or forty wagons spread out over about a two square mile area. As he was waiting for the fire to get a start so he could have some coffee, a large man of about forty years, with sun burnt hair hanging to his shoulders approached him. The lines in the man’s face bespoke a hard, outdoor life. His steel grey eyes seemed hard, but were softened somewhat by his infectious smile. The man stuck out his hand to Jacob, and said, “Howdy, the name’s Jim Cody, I’ll be takin’ you’all cross to the other side of this great big land of ours. Where ya’ headed, California, or Oregon?” Jacob put his hand in the big mitt of a hand that was Big Jim Cody’s, and shook it. Saying, “We’re going to California, my father has spoken of you.” “Who’s your old man?” Jacob told him his father had spoken with him yesterday. “O yeah, the Yankee gent, I remember the wagon. Nice fella', is he around?” Jacob said he didn’t know where his father was. To which Big Jim replied, “That’s okay son, when he returns tell him thar’s a little business him and me gotta’ talk over.” As Jacob watched the retreating figure of Big Jim Cody disappear among the wagons, the smell of coffee reached his nostrils; so he shrugged his shoulders, turned, and joined the women.
When Jacob had finished his breakfast of coffee and biscuits he thought he’d scout around and see how the other sojourners built their fires, because there sure was no firewood to be had. He asked his mother if she and the girls would be all right if he left for a while. “Of course dear, the girls and I are just seeing to the cleanup of the dishes, and then we’re going to arrange things. You have a good time.” As Jacob left their encampment, he thought of his mother; how he dearly loved her. And, he would be damned if he’d let any misfortune befall her.
Jacob started walking through the camp, nodding to those he met along the way. After about fifteen minutes, he saw a man trying to light a fire, and approached him. “Morning sir,” said Jacob. With a start, the man turned to face Jacob and exclaimed, “Land skakes boy, you nearly sent me to perdition. Ought not sneak up on a man like that.” “I’m sorry sir; it’s just that I wanted to inquire as to what fuel you are using for your fire.” “It betokens you’ve not been here long with a question like that.” “No sir we just got here last night.” “Buffalo chips.” “Excuse me sir?” “I said buffalo chips; the plains are full of ‘em. Easy to start burning, no smell, and make a dandy fire. Most around here has been used up, but a mile or so out they’re as far and wide as the eye can see.” Jacob asked the man if he would mind if he watched him start the fire. He had never seen anyone light dung before; “Sure boy, you watch me, might learn ya’ somethin’.” The man then piled some chips in a pyramid fashion and stuck a lighted stick into an opening he had left at the base of the pyramid. He held the stick there for about a minute before withdrawing it. “That’s all there is to it boy, the place you saw me put the flame will now catch, and in a few minutes we’ll have a nice even fire. But they burn so dang fast you need a couple of bushels to cook a meal.” The man was right, once the fire got a good start; there was a nice even flame. And the amazing thing was there was no odor. Jacob made up his mind right then and there to go out to where the chips were, and get a supply for his family.
As Jacob was returning from his second chip collecting expedition, he saw his father walking towards their camp. Jacob hailed him and together they walked into camp. Once Jacob had discharged his load of chips, he turned to his father and told him of Big Jim’s visit earlier in the day. To which his father remarked, “Yeah we have a pecuniary matter to settle.” Jacob asked in what respect. His father told him that Big Jim did not escort people across a continent for nothing. Each wagon going to Oregon pays him fifty dollars, and each wagon going to California pays him thirty dollars. Jacob asked his father why the difference? “Well, when we get to Separation Pass and turn off the Trail we’ll be on our own. Big Jim will continue west with the people going to Oregon. It’s a matter of miles. The more miles he guides you the more you pay.” Jacob and his father then proceeded to build, and light their first buffalo chip fire.
The next two weeks were uneventful and boring. The days were spent sitting around waiting for the grass to grow tall enough to feed the oxen. About three quarters of those in camp chose oxen to pull their wagons, so they would not be going anywhere until they were sure the neat could be fed. On the thirteenth day since the Ariesen family arrived in camp, word spread through the camp that at noon the following day Big Jim Cody had some words he wanted to speak to all those hoping to hit the Trail. He wanted every man, woman, and child assembled at the south end of camp at noon the next day. After weeks of waiting, this news caused quite a stir, and was the talk of the camp that evening around the buffalo chip fires. “You think we’re leaving soon? Is that what he wants to tell us?” “Maybe, ‘bout time, any more sittin’ around all our provisions be gone.” “I don’t think he has anything to say, probably just wants to hit us up for more money.” So, the different conversations around the different campsites went well into the night.
The next morning, well before the appointed hour, people were starting to assemble south of the encampment. Jacob and his family arrived just before noon, so they were regulated to the back of the crowd. There seemed to be about a hundred a fifty people amassed around a single uncovered wagon. At precisely noon, Big Jim strode into the crowd, up to the wagon, and climbed up onto it. He held up both arms high into the air, palms facing outward, and said, “Let’s have some quiet folks, let’s have some quiet.” When the crowd had quieted down, Big Jim started to speak.
“Looks like we got ourselves a fine boodle of folk here, seems like everyone showed. All righty, I got me some things to tell ya’. And in no particular order, as they come into my head you’ll know ‘bout ‘em. First of all I’m not out for your approbation, you good folks hired me to git you to where ya’ wanna’ go, and with the Good Lord’s help I aim to do just that.
“First of all we pull out at first light in the mornin’. We’ve got thirty-two wagons. So to cut down on the dust, we’ll roll four abreast of eight wagons each, separated by ‘bout one hundred yards. Everyday the lead of each column will change. The wagon at the end will take the lead, and the lead will fall back one. This way no one will have to eat dust all the time the whole way to Oregon.
“Next I expect you men folk to be abstemious while on the Trail. Oh ya’ can imbibe at the trading post, but on the trail liquor is forbidden. It just leads to trouble, like fights, and even worse. Last year I had to hang a man who got drunk, and killed another man over a woman. I’d rather not have to do anything of the sort this go round. Which reminds me, I am the law from the time we leave till we git to where we’re goin’. Anyone breakin’ my Law, or shuckin’ his duties will answer to me
“We are all leagued in our common purpose. Be mindful of your dross, others have to live with ya’ for the next half year. If you flag, we can’t stop and wait for ya’ to catch up, unless ya’ havin’ trouble with your wagon, so keep ‘em moving. If ya’ do break down, we stop to help out. But remember we gotta’ make it over them mountains fore the onset of winter, or we’d all freeze to death.
“There will be very little laving on the Trail, water is too important. All you folks at one time, or ‘nother will be at your nadir. Well that’s to be expected, but be mindful that other’s are acountin’ on ya’ to pull ya’ share. Anyone thinkin’ of any hugger-muggery out thar, or if ya’ think ya’ can gull me, well think again.
“Make no mistake ‘bout it, not all of ya’ are goin’ make it, some are goin’ die out thar. Those that are a dyin’ will have to be left so we don’t join ‘em. Sorry, seems harsh, but gotta’ be done for the good of the train. Mountain Fever is our worse look out, nothin’ to be done for the poor souls who git it., Watch out for your wagon wheels, next to Mountain Fever, bein’ run over and crushed by a wheel is you best chance of meetin’ you maker. And you greenhorns, careful with ya’ guns. Had two men shoot theirselves last trip, one died. And any man jack of you caught molestin’ women folk will git a bullet in the head from my own gun.
“We’re takin’ the Platte-Sweetwater Trail, done it before, and if you’all mind me, most of ya’ will make it through. We made the last trip in a hundred sixty-five days to Oregon. They tell me those that left us at Separation Pass made it to California in a hundred and thirty-five days. But I don’t know, I wasn’t thar. That’s it folks, see ya’ at gloaming.” With that, Big Jim Cody hopped from the wagon and strode off in a westerly direction.
The Mountain Fever Big Jim was referring to was a catchall term used to describe all ailments encountered on the Trail. However, the number one killer of those who traversed the Trail was Cholera. In 1850, the year of the Ariesen family’s trek, five thousand deaths were attributed to Cholera. It was not known at the time that the cause of the disease was contaminated water.
The next morning found the Ariesens in one of the four trains, third from the lead. Everyone was eagerly awaiting the arrival of Big Jim so they could commence their journey to the Promised Land. They did not have long to wait. If nothing else, Big Jim Cody was punctual. He rode up astride a large black mare, an old campaigner, which Big Jim had named “Sweetheart on Parade,” and she was easily one of the finest horses the Good Lord ever made. Big Jim was sitting straight and proud as he inspected the four trains, making sure they were evenly spaced. After nodding his head in approval, he raised his right arm, and in a forward, arching motion, simply said, “Follow me.” And with that simple action, and those two simple words, the infamous Train of 1850, which departed from Westport Missouri, started west; which put into play events that culminated in the largest mass execution in the history of the United States.

The End of Part One
By
Andrew Joyce

Tommy "The Rat" Callahan, A Love Story

Tommy “The Rat” Callahan was a small-time Irish hood from South Boston. He was known as “The Rat” because of his rather long, pinched nose and his two, set close together, beady eyes. In short, Tommy looked like a rat. And the fact that he was not above ratting out a comrade to advance his own position added to the mystique of “The Rat.” He had no family except his sister who he idolized.
Tommy was on to the caper of all capers, if only he did not fuck it up as he usually did. Tommy had learned, quite by accident of course, where there was one hundred large, one hundred thousand dollars to the rest of us, kept in a safe. He had cased the joint, and it looked like a breeze. All he needed was a cracksman to handle the safe. Once again, to us law abiding citizens; a cracksman is a safe cracker, one who opens safes without a combination, and without the owner’s permissions for that matter. For this job, he thought he would use Scooter O’Malley. Scooter was the best in the business, but he also cost a lot. Tommy thought Scooter might take it on spec, but then he’d be in for a piece of the action, Scores of this sort don’t happen everyday. No, Tommy would figure a way to get into that goddamn safe without paying an arm and a leg to do so.
However, before he could worry about that, Tommy had to stop in and see his sister. Not a day went by that Tommy did not stop in to check up on his sister Joanie. She was the only family he had. And, in this rough and tumble world you can’t be too careful. Tommy considered Joanie’s well being the most important thing in the world. Why he’d even turn down being in on big scores because it would have involved him being out of town for a few days. It didn’t matter that on each of the three occasions he turned down the invitation to participate, the crews were busted, and all seven of them are now doing hard time in Norfolk, the state's maximum security prison. As Tommy entered his sister’s apartment, he heard the usual greeting his dear sister Joanie reserved just for him. “Not you again fuck wad, don’t ya’ ever knock?”
“Come on Joanie why ya’ gotta’ be like that?” “Why do I gotta’ be like that? Why do I gotta’ be like that? You fuckin’ dumb Mick you. You just beat the shit outta’ Billy Doyle last night for just holdin’ my hand. And he was about the last guy in South Boston who would even speak to me.” “Yeah, but sis you don’t know what these guys are after.” “What their after! Listen Tommy Callahan, and listen good, I wanna' get laid! You got it! I wanna’ get laid!” “Come on Joanie don’t talk like that, what if ma could hear you” “Sheesh Tommy, you’re too fuckin’ much!”
And so the Callahan siblings continued the same discussion they’ve had daily for quite some time. You see Tommy had appointed himself Joanie’s protector when their mother died. They never knew their father, he ran off with a burlesque dancer a year after Joanie was born. But Tommy was not subtle about protecting his sister’s honor. If Tommy saw his sister with a guy, he would assume the guy was up to no good; and most of the time he was right. So as a result of many pummeling’s, word got around not to mess with Tommy Callahan’s sister if you didn’t want to get your face rearranged. Which left poor little Joanie Callahan without a boyfriend, which she greatly desired.
Tommy thought to himself, “I don’t have time for this crap, not today. I’ve got things to do.” So he approached his sister and tried to give her a good-bye kiss. She ducked his attempt at brotherly love and said, “Sit down for a moment; I got something I want to tell you.” Tommy thought, “This can’t be good.” And from his way of thinking it was not. “Tommy, if you don’t let me have a life of my own I’m moving to California.” “What! You can’t do that, who’d protect you?” “That’s just it Tommy, I don’t need no protecting. You got this mixed up notion in that fucked up head of yours that I’m still eight years old. I’m a woman of twenty-two, and I have a woman’s needs. I want to be loved, and I want to love.” “But Joanie, I love ya’.” “Don’t interrupt Tommy. This is the way it’s going to be, I’m dating whoever I please, whenever I please. And the first sign of trouble from you, and I’m gone.” “But.” “I told ya’ to keep ya’ yap shut. You’ve got nothin’ to say in the matter, it’s my life.”
Tommy did not like what he was hearing. No, not one bit did he like what he was hearing. But he knew Joanie well enough to take her advice and keep his yap shut, for once. He said, “Okay sis we’ll play it your way, but don’t come cryin’ to me if some asshole breaks your heart. To which his sister replied, “Don’t you worry about me, I’m the heart breaker in this family, ya’ dumb Mick.” With that, Tommy took his leave, and this time his sister did allow a brotherly peck on the cheek.
To Tommy there was nothing more important than Joanie, and he would have to figure a way around her ultimatum, but that could wait. Right now, he had to scare up a plan to get into that damn safe with the hundred large in it. So for the next two weeks Tommy looked at it from every angle as to what he could do to affect his score without bringing someone else in on it. But try as he might, no way presented itself to him for opening the safe. Of course he could open it, there were explosives, but he wanted to open the safe and not get caught. An explosion would have every cop within miles of the damn place there before he could get a block away. And besides with the luck he’s been having lately, he’d probably blow himself up instead of the safe. He was so busy trying to figure something out; he thought this would be a great time to let Joanie think she got her way. So he stayed away for those two weeks.
Not having seen Joanie for two weeks left an emptiness in Tommy. So on the fifteenth day since he last spoke with her, he thought, “The hell with it, I’m goin’ over there, she’s had her little tantrum, she’s had two weeks to think she’s got her way. I know she hasn’t been seeing anyone, or someone would have blabbed it to me by now.”
Upon arriving at his sister’s place, Tommy tried to enter in his usual way, bursting in without knocking. However, his ingress was stymied by the fact that the door was locked. He took a step back, stared at the door for a moment as if he had never seen one before. Then he stepped up to the door to do battle with it. He started pounding on it as though it had wronged him in some great fashion, all the while yelling, “Sis, sis ya’ all right in there?” Within seconds, the door flew inward, and there stood Joanie, hands on her hips, and a scowl on her face. “What ya’ trying to do, break down my door?”
Tommy let out a sigh of relief when he saw that Joanie was unharmed, and her own lovable self. “I thought somethin’ might have happened to you. Jeesh, I haven’t seen you for two weeks, anything coulda’ happened.” Removing her hands from her hips his sister said, “Well come in, ya’ want the neighbors to know all my business?”
With this congenial invite, Tommy stepped into the apartment, and without missing a beat said, “So I’ve been leaving ya’ alone, ya’ got that crazy idea outta’ ya’ head about moving?” Joanie just shook her head in disgust before saying, “Tommy it was not about ya’ leaving me alone. I, and God knows why, love you, you’re my brother. No Tommy, it’s about me seeing who I want, when I want, with no interference from you. “So who’s the lucky guy?” “You cocksucker you. You know I haven’t been seein’ any body from around here. Your Southie rat fink friends woulda’ ratted me out, and you woulda’ got your goddamn Mick ass over here a long time ago. So don’t give me any of your Mick bullshit.” There was not much Tommy could say to that, Joanie was right. She knew it, and he knew it. However, he did try a bluff anyway, “But I stayed away like you wanted.” To which Joanie just shook her head before walking back into the kitchen where she had been when Tommy started his Tom-Tom exercises on her door. Tommy stood where he was, looking like the big goof that he was.
From the kitchen his sister called to him, “Tommy will ya’ come into the kitchen for a minute?” So Tommy stopped looking like a goof long enough to walk to the kitchen. When he entered, he exclaimed, “Holy shit Joanie what’s doin’?” “What does it look like I’m doin’, I’m cookin’ dinner.” Which prompted Tommy to say, “How’d ya’ know I was comin’ over?” “It’s not for you, you dumb asshole, it’s for me and a friend.” Tommy looked a little hurt, not because Joanie had called him an asshole, but because she had not invited him to dinner also.
Tommy thought to himself, “Well this is good; sis has a girl friend she’s hangin’ with. Maybe it’ll get her mind off of running around with guys. Now all I gotta’ do is find a way into that goddamn safe.” It was at this juncture that Joanie hit Tommy smack, right between the eyes, figuratively speaking that is. Not that Joanie was not quite capable of physically hitting him smack, right between the eyes also, but this time she only wanted to speak with him.
Joanie said to Tommy, “Go over to the table and sit down, I got somethin’ I wanna’ tell ya’.” Tommy dutifully obeyed, and sat himself down, awaiting the pronouncement from on high; which was not long in coming. Joanie started by saying,” My friend will be here soon, and even if I threw your ass outta’ here right now, you’d sooner or later know what’s goin’ on. So I’m tellin’ ya’ now, so it can be done and over with.” As his sister was speaking Tommy was thinking, “All this shit just because a girl friend is comin’ over. What does she think, that I’m some kind of asshole who doesn’t want her to have any friends? Sheesh!” “Tommy are you listening to me?” “Yea, sure sis, heard every word ya’ said. And I’m glad ya’ got a girl friend commin’ over for dinner.”
“It’s not a girl fiend that’s coming for dinner, it’s …,” Joanie faltered. Tommy the big goof, she had trouble getting out what she had planned to say. After a few seconds, she took a deep breath and said, “He’s a guy.” That was it, just three little words, and at first Joanie thought, “Tommy looks like he’s taking it well.” However, that was not the case, as with most things of a new, or complex nature, Tommy’s cognitive thinking took awhile to kick in. So, while Joanie was thinking, “This might not be so bad.” Tommy was thinking, “What’d she just say? A guy, what guy? What’s she talkin’ about?
But eventually the message did hit home, and by the slow change of expression on Tommy’s face, Joanie knew there was trouble ahead unless she cut it off at the pass, so to speak. She took the initiative by saying, “Just one cotton pickin’ minute. Don’t start no shit and there won’t be no shit. Got it? I’ve been seein’ a guy, and his name is Paul. He’s in town for his sister’s wedding. We met over at Tina Ruggerio’s house, and he’s a very nice boy. Polite, has manners, and most important of all, he likes me. And you, Tommy Callahan ain’t goin’ screw this up for me. Got it?”
By now, Tommy had regained all his faculties, speech, thought, the whole nine yards. His first thought was, “No way.” And the first words out his mouth were also, “No way.” “Stop right there Tommy Callahan. I told you before, one peep outta’ ya’ and I’m California bound. Got it? Don’t answer because I don’t care if ya’ got it or not. So what’s it to be? When Paul gets here are you goin’ act decent, or do I go into my bedroom and start packin’?”
So what’s a guy to do in a situation like this? Tommy has been around the block more than once, and he knew his sister well enough to decide that, now Tommy did not use these exact same words, but his thoughts were along similar lines, “Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor.” He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay sis, you win, when does the paragon get here?” “He’ll be here soon. I’ll introduce you, and then when I give the high sign, you split. And no fuckin’ bad language when he’s here, I don’t wanna’ give him the wrong idea about our fuckin’ family. Got it?” Joanie didn’t wait for an answer; she turned her back to Tommy and resumed her domestic duties. And Tommy, well he just slumped back down in his chair, a defeated man.
Tommy may have been defeated, but he thought it only a temporary defeat. He was one Mick from Southie who knew the score, who could roll with the punches. “Oh no, not by a long shot is this over,” thought Tommy. Just then, there was a knock at the door. And the hip Mick who could roll with the punches was startled into jumping two inches off the chair upon which he was sitting. Joanie hurried to the door and opened it to show a handsome young man, dressed in a suit and tie, holding flowers. “Please come in Paul,” intoned Joanie.
Tommy, who was still sitting in the kitchen heard the reception Joanie had given Paul and thought, “Paul? Who the fuck is Paul? This I gotta’ see.” So Tommy walked out of the kitchen, and into the living room; and he could not believe his eyes. “This guy Paul is wearing a suit, a fuckin’ suit. Ya’ gotta’ be kiddin’ me,” thought Tommy. But of course, he said nothing aloud. The look he was getting from Joanie had withered stronger men than him. Turning back to Paul she said, “Paul I would like you to meet my brother Tommy; and Tommy this is Paul Puglisie. Tommy was standing about three feet from Paul and hesitantly extended his hand. In turn, Paul grabbed it, and with a firm grip said, “A pleasure to meet sir.” To which Tommy said nothing. Nothing, that is until he received a surreptitious kick to his shin from Joanie; then he said, “Glad to meet ya’.” But thought, “You’re not foolin’ me buddy, with your fancy suit and your fancy manners. No, not one bit are ya’ foolin’ me with those manners. I invented manners.” Of course Tommy did not invent manners; in fact, he barely knew what the word meant.
Once the formalities were out of the way, Joanie said “Why don’t you boys get acquainted, I’ve got somthin’ to do in the kitchen. And I’ll put these beautiful flowers in some water, thank you so much Paul.” To which Paul remarked, “May I help with anything?” “No Paul, you and Tommy just get to know one another. Dinner’s almost ready, and Tommy’s got a business meeting he has got to go to; don’t you Tommy?” “Uh, oh yeah, down to the Union Hall. Me, and the boys got a meetin’ planned.” Tommy was quite proud of himself for coming up with a lie like that on the spur of the moment.
When Joanie had left for the kitchen Paul said, “Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable.” “Why not,” thought Tommy. He grabbed a chair and turned it around, then straddled it and sat, folding his arms on the back of the chair, and stared at Paul. Paul in turn, sat on the couch and smiled at Tommy.
At this point Tommy starts thinking, which for Tommy is always a herculean affair. “I know this guy from somewhere, but fuckin’ where.” Though he says out loud, “Joanie tells me you’re in town for your sister’s wedding. I wish Joanie would get married so that I can stop worrying about her. But hey, that’s no hint, I’m just sayin’” Paul again smiled at Tommy before saying, “I know what you mean, no sweat.” With the second smile, Tommy again thought, “I know this wop from somewhere.” So he asked, “Ya’ ever live in Boston?” And Paul replied, “Why yes, I just moved to Chicago three years ago.” The fact that Tommy was sure he knew the cat, just gnawed at his soul, until he exclaimed, “I’ve got it! You were with that dago outfit that did all those Back Bay heist. Smooth work that was. Too bad you guys had to take a fall. When your crew went down, is that when you high tailed it out to Chi Town?” Paul was nonplussed for a moment; before regaining his composure and saying, “I’m sorry Mr. Callahan you must have me confused with someone else.” “Don’t give me that shit, I used to see you wops around Lorenzo’s Pub back in ’05. I remember you because you were pointed out to me as the best cracksman in all of Boston, north or south. They said you were even better than Scooter O’Malley, and that’s sayin’ somethin’.”
With that bit of news Paul swallowed hard and whispered, “Please Mr. Callahan do not let your sister know.” “Don’t worry Paul, no need to worry at all, mind if I call you Paul?” “No, not at all, may I call you Tommy?” “Sure pal, sure.” This guy Paul was the answer to Tommy’s prayers. A guy who opens safes like the rest of us open our medicine cabinet door each morning. “And I’ll get him to do it for love, won’t cost me a cent,” thought Tommy as he smiled his Cheshire cat smile at Paul. Tommy thought, “I just need a few minutes alone with this guy, without fuckin’ Joanie bein’ there to throw a monkey wrench into the works. Then he had it. He called to his sister in the kitchen, “Hey sis me and Paul’s goin’ down to the paky to get a bottle of wine.” And with her sweetest, most feminine voice, Joanie purred, “Tommy could you come in here a moment.”
When he entered the kitchen, he was accosted by Joanie, who grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him up against the refrigerator, whispering in a not so feminine voice, “What’s ya’ up to asshole?” “Nothin’ sis, Paul just wanted to get you a bottle of wine to go with dinner. He asked me where the closest paky was, and I told him I show him, it would be easier. Don’t sweat it sis, this is the type of guy I been hopin’ ya’ hook up with; not like the bums down here in Southie, I mean what’s not to like? He’s got manners, and not too bad lookin’, huh sis? Too bad he’s a wop, but ya’ can’t have everything.” “Mind your own business Tommy. Okay get the wine, but then ya’ leavin’. Got it?” “Yeah, sure sis.” Tommy left the kitchen with a big smile on his face, and said to Paul, “Let’s go, Joanie wants some wine with dinner.
Tommy did not wait long before he started his play. On the way down, while still on the stairs, he said, “So what happened with the Back Bay thing? Why wasn’t you hauled in with those other wo… I mean guys?” Paul sighed and said, “Listen, you seem to know the score, so I’ll tell you. But, you’ve got to promise not tell Joanie any of this. I like her, I like her a lot.” “Sure, sure, I’m just interested that’s all.” “Well, my job was to open the safes. I seem to have a talent in that direction. I was never part of the crew; they would hire me on a per job basis. They would find the score, get to know the lay out, and do their homework; they were really professional about it. I would only be called in if there was a safe involved. But when they started doing houses in Back Bay, well all those houses had safes. The way it would work is, the night of the heist I’d wait in my car about two or three blocks away from the action. The crew would have already cased the joint, they knew if there were dogs, guards, or whatever. Once they had secured the premises, and all obstacles were overcome, I would get a call over the radio, just one word, “clear.” With that, I would walk to the house, enter, open the safe, and then walk back to my car and leave. I wouldn’t even open the door to the safe. It was none of my business what was inside. Then a few days later, I would find my fee wrapped in my newspaper when I went outside to get it in the morning.”
Tommy was spellbound. He had never heard of an organization so well run. He thought, “No wonder our guys are always takin’ falls.” And then he said, “Why didn’t they haul you in with the rest?” “Because I was just an employee, not part of the group. And those guys don’t sequel. They’d rather take the max than talk.” Again Tommy thought, “You gotta’ hand it to those wops, even if they are dago scum.” But said aloud, “So ya’ that good with safes?” “I just have a talent that’s all. However, I got the fear of God put in me three years ago, I’ve gone straight ever since.”
That, Tommy did not want to hear. Just then, they reached the package store and entered. “Joanie say what kind of wine she wanted,” asked Paul. “Naw, just get somthin’ cheap, she won’t know the difference. Paul paid no mind to what Tommy had said, and continued down the wine aisle, inspecting the array of wines. Tommy on the other hand had ensconced himself by the magazine rack, and was paging through a copy of Playboy magazine. Paul finally selected a wine, paid for it, and together he and Tommy left the store for the return trip to Joanie’s apartment. However, Tommy wanted to slow things down a bit, he had not finished playing Paul. As they approached a bus bench, Tommy said, “Let’s sit here for a minute and let Joanie finish fixin’ dinner. And besides there’s somthin’ I gotta’ tell ya’.” After they had seated themselves, and got as comfortable as one can on a bus bench, Tommy said, First of all, when do you plan on goin’ back to Chi Town?” Paul hesitated before answering, “Well I had planned on going back last week, but then I met your sister and well you know.” “Sure I do, sure I do. Amor in the spring, only it’s not spring it’s summer.” Tommy thought that was a hoot, and could not stop from laughing aloud at his brilliant sense of humor.
After his fit of laughter subsided, he said, “Paul, I’ve got to tell you somthin’ about Joanie, but you can’t mention it to her, she’d die of embarrassment. You promise not to mentioned what I’m about to tell ya’?” “Sure Tommy, what is it?” “Well, sis has got to have an operation.”This revelation took the wind out of Paul’s sails. He had grown very fond of her, and anything that affected her, affected him. As those thoughts coursed through his mind, he came to the realization that he was falling in love with her, and he smiled inwardly. Then he said, “Is it serious?” To which Tommy replied, “Well, yes, and no. She could stay healthy and maybe live another ten years, but …” That was Tommy’s specialty, letting his mark think the worse.
When Tommy saw the look on Paul’s face, he knew with a certainty that he had him, hook, line and sinker. So he continued, “”Yeah, the operation is expensive and we don’t have the money. Hey don’t think I’m askin’, cause I ain’t. I’m just sayin’. Well anyway, I know where I can get the money, but I’m goin’ need a little help. And I was thinkin’ you might just be the guy I need to help me save Joanie’s life.” Then Tommy thought to himself, “If that doesn’t get the poor sap nothin’ will.”
Tommy thought he had laid enough groundwork for the night. He figured, and rightly so for a change, that the slow move would work the best. He stood up and said, “Come on, Joanie’s probably throwin’ a fit, we’ve been gone so long. Tell ya’ what, if you're interested in helpin’, (Tommy was going to say,’ If you're interested in saving Joanie’s life,’ but thought better of it. Even Tommy knew that was laying it on a bit thick.) why don’t we get together tomorrow and talk this thing through?” And Paul rejoined, “Okay, of course I want to help. Let me give you my card, I’m in the insurance business now. Here, I’ll write my mother’s phone number on the back, I’m staying there. I left my phone in Chicago, this is supposed to be a vacation, and I didn’t want to be bothered.” As Tommy put the card in his shirt pocket, he was thinking of all the things he could buy with one hundred thousand dollars.
When they reached Joanie’s, Tommy escorted Paul to the front door, and then said, “I’ve gotta go to that meetin’. You two lovebirds don’t want me around anyway. I’ll call ya’ tomorrow morning, and remember, not a word to Joanie, she’d rather die than accept help from someone outside the family. Good night brother-in-law, hey, you never know.” With that inappropriate quip, and a nudge to Paul’s ribs, Tommy left the young lovers to their own devices, at least for that particular evening. For the first time ever, Tommy did not fear leaving his sister alone with a man. He thought he was a good judge of character, he was not, and he felt Paul would behave himself. In this observation, he was correct. As he descended the steps, he thought, “Paul’s the one I should be worrying about. I hope Joanie takes it easy on him.” Now Tommy would not have used his sister for all the money in the world, he believed Paul was a safe bet for a few days, then once the safe was opened, and he got his hands on the loot, he’d run “that wop right outta’ the city, and back to Chi Town where belongs.”
The next morning saw Tommy up bright and early. He had not gotten much sleep, for thinking of his soon to be wealth, and the man of means he would become. However, he did have to call Paul before any of his dreams could come to fruition. He wondered if 7:00 am was too early to call .Then he thought, “No I’ll play it cool,” he did not want to seem too eager, no he would wait till nine, but waiting those additional two hours would just about kill him.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Joanie and Paul had had a lovely dinner and spent a lovely evening together. When you are in love, everything is lovely. Because of Paul’s belief in Joanie’s vulnerably and because he was already on the precipice, he fell madly in love with Joanie that evening. And as far as Joanie was concerned, she had never met a boy like Paul before, plus he was so handsome. But most importantly Joanie had looked into his soul, in the way only a woman can, and saw the man she wanted to father her children; Joanie also fell head over heels in love that night.
Meanwhile back at the other ranch, Tommy was chomping at the bit to call Paul. He wanted to get the caper going as soon as possible, and get it into full swing. That little beauty of a Corvette he had already picked out, called to him. And he sure as hell was not going to let her call go unanswered by leaving her on the display room floor of the dealership. He had to get his hands on that money no matter who he had to step on, including Joanie, to a certain extent.
At precisely 9:01 am, Tommy dialed the number Paul had given him. The person who answered the phone seemed to think there was some mistake. Tommy was advised that, “Mr. Paul was still in repose and if you would care to leave a number in which you can be reached, I am sure Mr. Paul would be more than happy to return the call when he awakens.” Tommy simply said, Nuts, I’ll call back,” and hung up the phone. He thought, which for Tommy was never an easy thing to do, “What the hell was that all about? What’s this Mr. Paul crap?”As it turned out Paul was from a very wealthy family of Beacon Hill stock. Who knew? It had been the old family retainer that Tommy had spoken with, and as with all old family retainers everywhere, he was loath to awaken the young master.
It killed Tommy to wait, but wait he did, until noon that is, and then he tried again. “If that goddamn wop ain’t up yet I’ll kill him, but only after he opens the safe,” thought Tommy as he redialed the number. To his surprise and delight the phone was answered by the young master himself; how democratic of him. “Hey Paul, that you?” was Tommy’s way of saying hello. “Yes, hello Tommy this is Paul.” “Finally, you guys sleep all day?’ And by “you guys,” Tommy meant Italian-Americans, though those particular words were not in his lexicon of phrases. Not being aware of Tommy’s previous call because he had not left a message, Paul was perplexed at Tommy’s initial statement. However, after speaking with him last night, Paul decided to ignore Tommy’s non-sequiturs and get right down to business. Paul informed Tommy that his parents were having a party at their Back Bay mansion, however Paul used the word home rather then mansion, though “a rose by any other name,” etc … He also told Tommy that he had invited Joanie, and was sending a car for her. He concluded by saying, “Why not come out with Joanie and we can talk at some point this afternoon. The car will be at Joanie’s at 2:00 pm; the party is informal, just wear a sports jacket and slacks.” “Okay, I’ll be there,” said Tommy. “Fine I’ll see you guys about three o’clock,” concluded Paul before hanging up.
“Just slacks and a sports jacket, what crap,” thought Tommy as he hung up the phone. “Well, I’ll only have to put up with the wop bastard a little while longer, but how am I goin’ to explain to Joanie the invite?” Tommy did not have much time, so he rushed home and got his single dress jacket, he did not know if it was a “sports” jacket or not, but it would have to do. He dressed quickly, slicked back his hair, and made a beeline for Joanie’s.
On the way there, he rehearsed his spiel until he had down pat. His sister would not trip him up this time with her incessant questioning. He arrived at Joanie’s about 1:30. “Good,” he thought, “this gives Joanie time enough to get all the shit out of her system before the car gets here. It would not do for the help to hear us bickering.” Tommy just could not believe how his sense of humor had improved recently. Of course it had not, but for Tommy to quip as much as he had in the previous twenty-four hours was quite an improvement for him. He tried to enter the apartment in his usual manner, but to no avail; the door was locked, but this time he did not panic, in fact he was quite the gentleman. He politely knocked upon the door, and awaited a response. And he prayed that it would not be a typical Joanie response.
He need not have worried, the voice from within was as sedate as any that he had ever heard. “Yes, who is it please?” To which Tommy replied, “Who the fuck you think it is, open the damn door sis.” Which she did immediately thereafter. “What the hell are you doin’ here? Is it Halloween, what are you made up for? Tommy stepped into the apartment uninvited and simply said, “Tut-tut sis, one question at a time.”
Without going into the gory details, the upshot of the siblings “discussion” was that Tommy did his usual lying and told Joanie that he and Paul had hit it off so well the night before they had exchanged phone numbers. And that Paul had called him with an invitation to the party, and suggested that they both ride out together. Joanie knew Tommy was not to be believed one hundred percent, hell you were lucky if twenty percent of what came out of his mouth was the truth; but it was plausible, and besides, she did not have the time to beat the truth out of him. She figured she could either confront Tommy, or finish making herself beautiful for Paul. She chose the later of her two options. A few minutes later there was a polite rapping at the door. “It must be the car,” said Tommy.” “No shit Sherlock,” was Joanie’s only reply. The brother-sister team left the apartment and got into the Lincoln Town Car that Paul had sent for Joanie. They were off to their first Back Bay party; actually it was their first Back Bay anything. The ride out to Back Bay was uneventful; each of them looked out their own window, deep within their own thoughts of the future, and spoke not a word.
There is no need to chronicle the events of the party. There were only two developments which took place that afternoon that are germane to our story. One was the meeting between Tommy and Paul, the other is what Tommy observed in the course of the afternoon. The former first.
Upon arriving at the Puglisie home, Paul took Tommy and Joanie up to the roof garden and introduced them to various people. After a few such introductions, Paul said, “Tommy can you manage for a while? I want to introduce Joanie to my parents. Help yourself to the refreshments, and get to know some people. See you in a little bit.” Tommy told Paul, “Yeah sure, go knock yourself out.”
Until Paul came for him an hour later, Tommy sat by himself at a table with a large umbrella, and seethed. Tommy was just wishing Paul dead for the umpteenth time as he walked up and said, “You picked out a good location, we won’t be disturbed over here. Joanie and my parents hit it off, I couldn’t drag her away. So let’s get our talk out of the way while we can.” He pulled up a chair and sat down as Tommy thought, “About fuckin’ time asshole.”
“So, what’s up Tommy, what do you need me to do?” Tommy thought, “Well he does get right to the point. That’ll make things a lot easier.” Then he said, “Okay Paul, I’ll cut to the chase, I got a safe I need ya’ to open. There’s enough cash in it for Joanie’s operation.” “I thought it was something like that. Have you cased the job thoroughly? “Yeah sure, got it all scoped out.” “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” “No, shoot away.” “First of all, where is this score?” “It’s in an office building downtown.” “How do you plan on getting into the building? I assume you want to hit the safe after business hours.” “Well …” “Wait a minute let me finish. How many guards are there at night, if any? What are the shifts? What kind of safe is it? When was the last time you were in the building? Tommy there are many things to know before you go into any place, let alone an office building in Downtown Boston. Did you think any of this through?” “Well …” “I didn’t think so. During my time with my former employers, I picked up a little knowledge of how a job should go down. Now I’m sure you don’t want to take a fall, and I sure as hell don’t, so if you don’t mind, how about letting me plan this caper?” “Sure Paul there’s no egos involved, we’re doin’ this for Joanie.” But he was thinking, “You’re damn lucky I need you, you fuckin’ wop.”
Paul continued, “I’ll take you to the library in the house, where you can write down all you know. The building name, the address, what floor the safe is on, name of the business in which the safe is located. In short, write down everything you know from your own research. I’ll go there tomorrow to check things out. You stay away. There are cameras everywhere nowadays, and even if you don’t see them, you have to assume they are there. The first thing the police will do after the heist is review the video. Have you been back there in the last ten days?” “No.” “Good, most machines can only hold seven to ten days worth of video before deleting it to make room for the new stuff. I’ll disguise myself somehow so when they do review the video I won’t be recognizable. Your job will be to monitor the comings and goings of the security staff. You won’t have any trouble picking them out, after hours, they’re all in uniform. Take as much time as you need. If you see nothing at one entrance, say the front door for instance, move to another location to observe what’s going on, like the back, or side door. But stay at one vantage point for at least five hours. The guards, and we don’t know if there are any, that we are interested in will most likely come on duty sometime between four o’clock and eight o’clock. Do not go from entrance to entrance on the same day, you may miss something, and stick at it no matter how boring it gets. Try not to be conspicuous, wear a hat and sunglasses, carry a newspaper, and pretend to read it while keeping your eyes on the entrance. And stay with it until you know if there are guards, and if there are, the times of the shift change. Do you think you can handle that?” “Yeah sure, but is all that really necessary? Can’t we just walk in some night, catch an elevator, and bust into the office? You’re suppose to be so good, we could be out of there in minutes. “No Tommy, the safe may have an alarm, there may be guards in the building, any number of things, big and small could land us in Norfolk for ten years or more. And how do you plan on getting into the building to begin with? Have you thought of that? They’re not going to leave the place unlocked just to make it easy for us. So let’s do it my way, okay?” “Okay Paul you’re the boss,” said Tommy while thinking, just wait till I get my hands on that hundred large.”
As they got up and started for the house, Tommy said, “Let me ask you one thing Paul.” “Sure Tommy, what is it?” “With all this,” and as he said it, he moved his arm in an expansive gesture to encompass the house, “how did you ever get into safe cracking?” “Well my best friend when I was growing up used to stay over night sometimes when we were kids, and I would amuse him by opening the family safes, we have two. He would blindfold me and I would do it strictly by touch, with a little hearing thrown in for good measure. Then later when he hooked up with his crew, he told them about me. They eventually approached me and wanted to see what I could do. I agreed, I was kind of a show off in those days. They took me to a number of stores in their neighborhood and asked the proprietors if they would allow the “kid” to try to open their safes. All agreed, and all thought there wasn’t a chance in hell I could do it. But I opened every one of them, I think there were six in all. A short while after that I received a call, asking if I would like to work for them on a piecemeal basis. I jumped at the chance. I was only twenty, and looking for adventure.
Now on to the second occurrence of the afternoon that had anything to do with our story. It is what Tommy perceived concerning his sister, and to a lesser extent Paul. Whenever they were together, Joanie was positively radiant. There was a glow about her, and Tommy had never seen his sister look more beautiful. The way she adoringly watched Paul’s every move, her eyes never left him for a moment. And Paul seemed to be as smitten with her as she was with him. Much against his will Tommy thought that they did indeed make a nice couple. This observation of Tommy’s was brought up for a reason, and one reason only; it was the defining moment of our story, as we shall see shortly.
The next day saw Tommy on the job, complete with Sox cap, sunglasses, and newspaper. It is not certain that Tommy could read a newspaper, but he had one nevertheless. That first day he sat across the street from the “objective,” Tommy’s new word for the building in which sat the object of his desire; the safe with the hundred large in it. His base of operation was a small park, and on that first day of observation, Tommy was sustained by his enthusiasm. He was 007 on the case, but half way through day two of the stakeout he faltered. He thought to himself, “I’ve been watching that goddamn door for a total of six hours, and it seems like six weeks, and haven’t seen one fuckin’ uniform to save my fuckin’ life.” Fuck this, I’m gonna’ get me a beer.” And with those thoughts the career of Tommy, 007 came to a close. He lifted himself from the bench upon which he was sitting, and walked two blocks to a pub of which he knew. It was in this pub that Tommy preformed the remainder of his stakeout duties. Not only for that day, but for the rest of the week.
Paul had said it would be better if they had no contact while they did their “homework”; they would meet up at the end of the week, compare notes, and come up with a final plan. On the sixth day, Paul called Tommy to set up a meet. “You got a favorite pub?” inquired Paul. “Yeah,” answered Tommy, “Sully’s on Broadway and …” “Never mind, I know where it is,” said Paul, “let’s meet there at four this afternoon.” “Alright I’ll be there,” was Tommy’s comeback before hanging up.
Tommy got to the meeting place early; he had been sitting in a pub all week, aching for action. Paul, well he had been working all week to insure everything went smoothly and they did not end up in jail. Paul arrived a few minutes after four, saw Tommy, approached him, and sat down. Before Tommy could utter a word, Paul said, “What about the guards?” “No sweat, no guards,” answered Tommy. And Paul responded with, “Okay, then we’re ready, we’ll do it tomorrow night.” “About fuckin’ time,” thought Tommy.
Paul continued, “Here’s the set up. Number one, we meet here tomorrow night at ten thirty. Wear two layers of clothes, one light, and one dark. Have the dark clothes on top. No jacket. The reason is that if there is a problem, and a call goes out to the cops, we’ll be described as two guys wearing dark clothes. But what we’ll do is remove the outer layer as soon as we’re out of eyesight, and then split up. So the cops will be looking for two guys wearing dark clothes, and we’ll be single individuals in light clothing. Next, we’ll park three blocks from the building, if there is a problem, and we do have to split up, we’ll rendezvous at the car.
Paul then handed Tommy a small package saying, ”These are disposable latex gloves, you’ve got three pair. Tomorrow night just before entering the building put on one pair, they may rip, if so do not take off the ripped glove; put another on right over it. Your hands will sweat in those, and DNA can be taken from sweat, though I think it unlikely they would do a DNA test just for a simple robbery. But why take the chance?” Once outside, after the job is done, take the gloves off, it wouldn’t do to be walking down the street wearing them. But keep them with you until we can dispose of them in a storm drain.
“The lock to the door in which we’re going to gain access to the building is a Schlage. I went to an associate from my old days, and he made me a master key for that door, and for the door to the office in which the safe is located. As to the safe, it’s a Humboldt 850, a piece of cake. I’ll have her opened within two minutes. Also I could detect no wires leading up to it, so there’s probably no alarm. But even if there were, seeing as there are no guards, we can still be out of there before any cops arrive. The only drawback is the elevator; we’ll probably spend as much time, or more, in it as we will in opening the safe.That reminds me, there’s a camera in the elevator on the left side, up in the corner. From the time we enter the elevator until we exit, keep your back to that location. When we have done what we set out to do, and leave the building, the first thing to do is, as I’ve said, take off the gloves. Then we will walk slowly, like two guys on their way to the Red Line. Okay Tommy?” “Man-o-man, you sure did your homework. I don’t usually say this to the guys I do business with, but it’s a pleasure to do business with you,” said Tommy with a wide grin upon his puss.
D-Day finally arrived for Tommy. He could not wait to meet Paul, so he got to the meeting place two hours early. When Paul arrived, he was in a somber mood and simply said, “Let’s go.” Tommy shrugged his shoulders, what did he care. He was feeling exuberant; finally, after running around looking for an angle, not finding one, coming across Paul, and then scheming to involve him, he was probably not more than an hour away from the score of a lifetime. They drove in silence into downtown Boston, each lost in his own thoughts, Tommy thinking of the easy life that lay ahead for him, Paul thinking of Joanie. They parked a few blocks from the objective, as both men had come to refer to the caper’s location.
Still nothing was said as they exited the car. The two men, one of whom would never be the same again after this night, walked to the locale, which housed the aspirations of each man, though the aspiration of each was quite different. When they arrived at the utility door located at the back of the building that was to be the locus of their entrance, Paul said not a word; he put on his gloves and looked to make sure Tommy did the same. He then removed a key from his right pants pocket and unlocked the door. Before opening the door, he turned to Tommy and whispered, “Just follow me and do what I say.” By this time, Tommy had stop thinking his wise-ass retorts to everything Paul said. His contempt for the man had turned to awe.
They entered the building. Paul knew there must be cleaning crews around somewhere. His plan was to avoid them if possible, and if not, he and Tommy would play the part of tenants working late; of course, the rubber gloves might arouse some suspicion. However, it was Paul’s experience that those who work overnight cleaning office buildings avoid looking directly at any tenants they may encounter. For the most part, they desired no trouble, and just wanted to finish their work and go home.
They made their way to the elevators, after pushing the call button Paul softly said, Remember from the time we enter the elevator until we leave, keep you face pointed to the back right hand corner. You will be facing backwards so it will be on your left. And back out when we get to where we are going. When they got into the elevator, and again when they reached the desired floor, Tommy did everything he had been told, letter perfect. Which made two accomplishments for Tommy, he had finally listened to someone who knew more than he did, and he finally did something letter perfect.
Upon leaving the elevator they headed for the office in which the safe that had caused these two, who could not have been more different if they had been born on different planets, to come together. When the two reached their goal, Paul took a single key from his left pants pocket and unlocked the door. He then put the key back into its original resting place.
There was nothing left for the two men to do, but enter and claim their prize. Paul entered first, with Tommy a close second. Paul turned on the lights and Tommy exclaimed, “What the hell are ya’ doin’?” To which Paul replied, “If someone were to walk by while we were in here and saw a flashlight bobbing around what do you think would happen? Those doors are not opaque. Sure, the glass is frosted, but light passes through them. If the overhead lights are on, anyone passing by would think that the tenant inadvertently left on them, or perhaps someone was working late.
Paul then turned his back to Tommy, walked over to the safe, and knelt down in front of it. From his back pocket, he extracted a well-folded, seemingly small cloth bag. However, when unfolded, the dimensions measured twenty-four inches deep, and eighteen inches wide; it had a drawstring at the opening. Paul handed the bag to Tommy and said, “Hold this and put the money into it as I hand it to you. Now just stand there.” Paul was not in the mood for any of Tommy’s shenanigans, and Tommy for his part was happy to oblige Paul in any way possible.
Then Paul got to work opening the safe. After about a minute Tommy heard, “Damn” coming from the general vicinity of Paul. Tommy immediately issued this prayer, “Shit; not now God, please, we’re so close. Just let me have this one score and I promise I’ll go to mass every Sunday for the rest of my life. However, Tommy need not have worried, by the time he finished his prayer to the Almighty the safe was opened.
“Tommy, hold the damn bag over here where I can reach it,” complained Paul. Tommy for his part made a mental note not to pray during capers in the future, it ruins one’s concentration. Paul reached into the safe and brought out stacks of currency, all one hundred dollar bills. He proceeded to dump the stacks of money into the bag Tommy was holding as fast as he could. To Paul there seemed like there was a lot more than one hundred thousand dollars, but he was not about to stop to count it now.
Once the safe was empty of cash, Paul told Tommy to draw the bag close. He then stood up and Tommy noticed that Paul had been sweating profusely. “Anything wrong Paul?’ questioned Tommy. “No, I always get like this when I’m stealing from people. Now get to the elevator and hold it, we want to get the fuck out of here fast as we can.” Tommy did a double take, thinking, “The poor son-of-a-bitch must be nervous, I’ve never heard him cuss before.” Though aloud he said, “Why, aren’t ya’ coming with me?” “I’ll be two steps behind you. I want to make sure we leave the place clean. We don’t want to make it too easy for the cops.”
Tommy started for the door saying, “Hurry up I wanna’ get outta’ here.” Paul said nothing. Tommy walked down the hall and turned the corner heading for the bank of elevators. Just as he rounded the corner, he heard something that did not sound right. It was a jingling sound, sort like the sound keys make when hung from a person’s belt. Tommy’s first thought was, “Naw, that can’t be right.” But, just to make sure, he flattened himself against the wall and peered around the corner. What he saw froze his heart; it was a uniformed security guard. “A goddamn fuckin’ rent-a-cop,” thought Tommy.
Tommy’s first instinct was to run. Why not, he had the money, but something held him in place momentarily. He chanced another glance around the corner at the approaching security guard. The man had stopped in front of the door Tommy had just exited, and was looking at the still opened door. He hesitated for a moment, and then walked through it. When Tommy saw that, he turned and ran for the elevator, entered, and pressed the button for the ground floor. In spite of his fear, he had the presence of mind to keep his face averted while in the elevator. When the doors opened on the ground floor Tommy made a beeline for the door he and Paul had entered through just moments before. He reached the door and found himself in the alleyway before he knew it. He took three steps toward the street and was stopped in his tracks by an invisible force. Try as he might, Tommy could not put one foot in front of the other. The force had a sure grip on him. His feet were rooted to the cement upon which he stood.
The force not only held him in place, it entered his mind. Tommy started to think of his sister Joanie and how happy she had looked in the late afternoon sunlight, standing by the pool the day of the party. He also thought of Paul, how the man had trusted him to ascertain if there were guards or not; and how he had given up after only one day, and sat in a bar for the rest of the week. Paul believed in him, had trusted him. With these thoughts of Paul and Joanie swirling in his head, Tommy did something he had never done before in his life, he felt real responsibility for another human being. Not the phony responsibly of being Joanie’s protector, that was more about him, then it ever was about her; but real honest to God, “If I don’t do something that person will come to harm,” responsibility. “Paul was up there in deep shit because of my fuck up, And Joanie would be miserable without Paul," were his thoughts as he looked down at the moneybag he still gripped tightly in his right hand. Suddenly the bag started to heat up, it was scorching his hand; he had to fling it to the ground to avoid serious injury. The moment the moneybag hit the ground, Tommy was released from the force that held him. He was now free to move, and move he did. Right back through the utility door for the third time that night; as he reentered the building Tommy took off running for the elevator. When he entered the elevator, more out of habit then anything else, it was surely not by conscious effort; Tommy kept his eyes on that right hand, rear corner. Because for what Tommy had in mind, it would not matter if his face did end up on the video.
Tommy left the elevator at a run, but slowed as he approached the still opened door to the caper office. Once again, he peered around a wall. This time he saw that the guard had a firm grip of Paul’s left bicep, and was trying to dial a phone with one hand, while keeping a wary eye on Paul. Paul for his part was very passive. His thinking being, “If there is one guard, then there must be others. Why even try to make a run for it, all this guy has to do is pick up the phone and call his buddies, and the whole damn building will be sealed off.
Tommy had no way of knowing what was going through Paul’s mind, he thought, “You stupid motherfucker, just run!” Then he concluded that if any positive action were to take place, he would have to do it. He instantly came up with a plan, which for Tommy was rather remarkable. However, much like Tommy, the plan was simple; but in this particular situation, the simpler the plan, the more chance of its success. As just stated, the plan was simplicity in, and of itself, Tommy would exchange himself for Paul. Without further thought, Tommy catapulted himself into the room, and took a flying leap, tackling the guard at waist level.
As the guard and Tommy tumbled over a desk, Paul stood transfixed, starring at the brawl taking place before him. Then from somewhere within the din he heard, “Get outta’ here you stupid fuck. I’ve got this under control.” The words stopped at that point, as Tommy tried to wrestle the guard under control. Then the words continued, “Go, get outta’ here, I’ll meet you at you know where.” Tommy had suddenly become a thinking machine, he did not use Paul’s, or Joanie’s names, Tommy was protecting them. Which the Tommy Callahan of one half hour ago would not have even entertained, much less have thought of doing. Now, Tommy had no plans to meet anyone anywhere, except maybe the police. He wanted Paul safe for Joanie. Paul finally got the message. He figured the physical stuff was Tommy’s forte, so as a man of perspicacity, he left the situation in the hands of an expert and departed the premises.
After Paul had left, Tommy continued to struggle with the guard until he had the man on his back, and himself sitting astride his chest. Once relatively settled, Tommy said, “Calm down, ya’ fuckin’ bastard. Ya’ still get to be a hero, only now ya’ got me instead of the other guy.” Still the man fought, and the more he fought, the less charitable the “new” Tommy felt. Until he could take it no longer, and let fly a haymaker right to the man’s chin. Well, that put a stop to the commotion right then and there. At this point Tommy found himself sitting on top of an unconscious man. It took but a moment for him to realize that there was no earthly reason to keep him in that accursed room any longer. Though, one small part of him was a bit disappointed that his portrayal of the sacrificial lamb had been aborted.

As Tommy walked out of the office, he thought to himself, “Fuck the goddamn elevator I’m takin’ the stairs.” He was down the stairs, and through the utility door, for the fourth time that night, in minutes. The only thing on his mind was to get to the Red Line and to the safety of Joanie’s apartment. He was three blocks away before he remembered the money. When it slowly dawned on him that he had left it in the alley, he momentarily considered going back for it. However, the new Tommy won the debate with the old Tommy. He shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to the train.
Within forty-five minutes, he was standing outside Joanie’s door, and this time he gently knocked upon it. The door flew open immediately and Joanie rushed to embrace him, and there were tears in her eyes. She said nothing, just tugged him into the apartment with a firm grip on his arm. The first thing Tommy saw upon entering the apartment was Paul sitting on the couch with a big smile on his face. Paul greeted Tommy by saying, “Hey buddy that was some pretty heroic stuff you pulled back there.” Tommy was too spent to respond; he flopped down on the nearest chair and just sighed.
As Joanie dried the tears from her eyes, and slowly recovered her composure, she started to get angry, as only Joanie could, until there was a full-blown hurricane by the name of Joanie raging within that small apartment. The winds started to blow when she bellowed, “You goddamn motherfucker. What do you mean pulling my Paul into one of your sorry ass capers? I’m goin’ fuckin’ kill ya’ Tommy Patrick Callahan.” The eye of the hurricane was passing as she finished those words, so there was a momentary calm. However, as with all hurricanes, the eye passes quickly and Joanie resumed her rant. “Do you know ya’ could gotten yourself and Paul killed? Or at the very least have me goin’ to Norfolk once a month to visit ya’ two assholes.” Joanie was about to continue when Tommy held up his hand in the universal sign of stop. He affirmed everything she had said by saying, “Sis ya’ absolutely right. I learned my lesson tonight. Tomorrow I go out and get a fuckin’ job. My caper days are over. And Paul I’ve gotta’ tell ya’ somethin’. That was crap about Joanie needing an operation.” Paul interjected by saying, “I know Tommy, it took less than an hour for me to reach that conclusion. I knew almost right away you were conning me. But by then I had decided to marry your sister. So I thought I would go along with you to keep you out of trouble. I did not want my brother-in-law doing hard time. But the funny thing is, it was you who saved my bacon.
Tommy looked sheepish as he declared, “Well, it was my fuck up that led you to believe that there were no guards on duty.” “There is always that” opined Paul, “but everything worked out for the best.” Tommy nodded his head in agreement, but could not help saying, “Yeah but we woulda’ been able to walk away with the money if not for me.” Paul then looked at Joanie, and they both smiled. Tommy seeing the smile that took place between his sister and Paul said, “Okay, I’m a lousy crook. All the trouble I went through to set up the score, and for what, for squat, that’s what. Go ahead, rub it in I deserve it.” Paul asserted, “We’re not rubbing anything in, we’ve got the money. It’s here behind the couch, but it’s not one hundred thousand dollars.” Tommy found it hard to get too excited about Paul’s news. “Well even if it’s only fifty thousand, half of it is yours.” “No, it’s not fifty thousand either. Joanie and I counted it while we waited for you. There is two hundred thirty-seven thousand dollars in that bag behind the couch. And it’s all yours, Joanie and I have no need of it.” “But Paul ya’ a working stiff, ya’ gotta buy nice things for Joanie. Please take at least half of it.” “Listen Tommy, the insurance company I work for is owned by my family, Joanie and I will do all right. “Well, no fancy cars for me, I’m takin’ that money and buying into a pub.
With that declaration, Joanie threw her arms around her brother saying, You know, Paul and I will be living in Chicago?” “I’ll come out and visit you as often as ya’ let me, but one thing I don’t understand. How’d you end up with the money Paul?” “Well, as I came out of the building into the alley way, there it was, just lying there on the ground. So I picked it up and brought it here.” “Wicked pissah, I’ll be a goddamn son-of-a-bitch,” were the only words Tommy could articulate.

The End

As to the mysterious force that held Tommy in the alley, that was Love; some call it Agape, the plutonic, totally unselfish love that asks nothing in return. Tommy “The Rat” Callahan had found Love.

Note: This story was written for Asun Quintana, who lives in Spain on the Planet Earth; and with an able assist, by one, William A. Murray of Boston Massachusetts, also of Terra Plagiarius.