Clare Vanderpool - Moon Over Manifest

The others looked up in surprise.

“Oh, you didn’t know I knew about all that, the so-called elixir, nighttime rum runs. It took a while, but for the right price, someone’s always willing to talk. In fact, get the right rumors started and folks might get the idea that it was one of you who told me what was going on—just so’s you could keep the money. I imagine a good tar and feathering wouldn’t be out of the question.”

“As if anybody’s had time to pluck feathers,” Jinx muttered to Shady.

“You got something to say, boy?”

Jinx didn’t answer.

Just then, a stranger walked in, carrying a briefcase, looking decidedly out of place. Burton regained his composure and leaned on the bar. “While I’m here, Shady, I’ll have a shot of your finest. For medicinal purposes, of course.”

Shady poured him a glass and slid it across the bar.

The stranger, a young man wearing a black suit, white shirt, and bow tie, set his briefcase on the bar and asked Shady for a glass of water.

“Water?” Burton scoffed. “Why, haven’t you heard about the miracle whiskey made right here in Manifest? Drink up, son. What’s your pleasure?”

The man wiped his brow with a crisp white handkerchief. “I’ve heard, but I’m here on business, not pleasure.”

As Shady handed him a glass of water, the man looked at it as if he might check to see if the water was up to code. Then the stranger opened his briefcase and pulled out a glass vial of white powder. Under the curious stares of the men and Jinx, he poured the powder into the glass of water and watched it fizz and foam. He raised the glass to the light streaming in through the window, giving it his full attention. He pulled a small notepad from his jacket pocket and jotted down some notations, all the while looking back and forth from the pad to the glass of water.

“Where do you get your water?” he asked Shady with an air of authority.

“Who’s asking?” Shady countered with a bootlegger’s dose of suspicion.

“From the spring just fifty yards west of here, isn’t that correct?”

Now Shady was unnerved. If the stranger had already been to the spring, he’d been uncomfortably close to the whiskey barn. They had planned to take down the stills before the quarantine ended, but hadn’t got the chance.

“That’s the one.”

Burton looked at the man with great interest. “What kind of business might you be in, son?”

“Government.” The answer was curt, as if he didn’t need to explain himself to the likes of Lester Burton.

“Well, before you go poking around these parts anymore, I think we need a little more information.”

“Then perhaps you should take it up with the state board of health. Word has gotten all the way to Topeka that there’s something very interesting about this springwater.” He poured a small amount of water from the glass into the empty vial and replaced the rubber stopper. Again, he held up the vial to the light, giving it a flick with his finger. He studied the cloudy water and made another notation in his little book. “Hmm,” the stranger mused. “Very interesting.”

“What’s very interesting?” asked Burton.

“Is there a mine near here? A vein of some metal ore?”

“Yes, just a little farther west than the spring.”

“That would explain a great deal. I hear you’ve had a lot of sick folks in this region whose condition improved.”

Burton’s curiosity was piqued at the mention of the mine. “I happen to be the pit boss of that mine and I have a right to know what’s going on. Why would the government want to know if there’s metal in the water?”

“Do you own the spring, Mr. …?”

“Burton. And no, but—”

“Then this is not your concern.” He placed the vial in his briefcase and locked it shut.

“I always knew that mine would kill us all, one way or another,” Mr. Matenopoulos lamented. “Whether it’s black soot in our lungs or contamination in our water, it will get us all in the end.”

The room grew quiet as the weight of his words, as dark and cold as a mine shaft, pressed around them. Mr. Matenopoulos and the others were consumed by their gloom and Burton seemed the only one to notice as the young man drank half the glass of cloudy water.

“Now what?” Burton asked.

“Now”—the man tore out a page of his notebook, placed it into a brown envelope, and slid it into an inside pocket of his jacket—“I have some very important information to deliver at the courthouse.” He laid his suit coat over his arm and lifted the glass of water in salute. “Good day.”

Burton lowered his voice so the others in the bar couldn’t hear. “Now hold on there, son. There’s no need to be so standoffish. Smart young fellow like you wouldn’t drink that water if there was something wrong with it.” He spoke with a smile. “No, my guess is there’s something special about this here water. Is this something like those healing springs in Arkansas and Colorado, where people come from all over to buy the stuff? Healing water, they call it.”

“Well, I can’t speak to that, Mr. Burton. I’ve never been to any of those places.” Then he drank the rest of the cloudy water in one long gulp. “All I can say is I’m feeling better already, and that’s a fact.” He placed the glass on the bar, winked at Burton, and was gone.

Judge Carlson rapped his gavel. “This court will now come to order.” The crowded courtroom grew still. The monthly court date was always a well-attended event, as it provided citizens with a forum to settle disputes, conduct all manner of legal transactions, and hold public auction.

That day’s session, however, was jam-packed. The whole local cast of characters was present. Lester Burton sat in the front row, smiling and confident, while Shady and Jinx sat across the aisle. Arthur Devlin sat a few rows back, holding his gold-tipped cane and stretching one leg into the aisle. The man from the state board of health had himself wedged into the second row, briefcase on his lap, with the still pregnant Mrs. Cybulskis on his left and Hattie Mae on his right. Even Sister Redempta slipped in the back door and stood to the left side of the courtroom while the Hungarian woman stood to the right.

Hattie Mae, pen and paper in hand, was prepared to record all the whos, whats, whys, whens, and wheres and so tried not to notice the handsome man sitting beside her. He, on the other hand, made no attempt to avoid noticing her.

“We have a full slate today, ladies and gentlemen, so let’s keep things moving.” Judge Carlson peered through his half-glasses at the schedule, as if he wasn’t fully aware of the item at the top of the list.

“First off, we have—”

“Your Honor,” Mrs. Larkin interrupted from the jury box, which was being used for extra seating, “there is a matter of some urgency that I insist be dealt with immediately.” She stood. “It has come to my attention that Shady Howard has been producing illegal substances on public property.”

Half the courtroom glared at her. As often as she’d been seen making telephone calls from the post office and frequenting the telegraph machine, funneling who-knew-what information to Arthur Devlin, they still couldn’t believe she would take this opportunity to knock Shady’s legs out from under him.

“Mrs. Larkin.” Judge Carlson rubbed his forehead as if this was going to be the beginning of a very long afternoon. “I assure you we will address your grievance, but the first item on the agenda is the settlement of the Widow Cane’s property.”

Mrs. Larkin sat down, holding her tongue for the time being.

Judge Carlson continued. “As stated, the township of Manifest has the first rights to the land upon payment of back taxes and the land fee in the amount of one thousand dollars.”