The Winter Family (17 page)

Lukas nodded. Winter took his arm and they strolled down the row of shanties, crowded close together, with their dirt gardens and broken fences and piles of garbage lying in the brown rainwater in the gutters.

“How’s the family?” Winter said.

“All right.” Lukas’s voice was returning to normal. “They got to get used to having a man in the house.”

“I don’t see why,” Winter said.

The gin joint, as Winter called it, was just another house that happened to be situated at the intersection of two fairly prominent laneways of the slum. Drunks lay stretched out in the muddy yard, coated in puke and dirt.

“Go get yourself a drink from the lady, Lukie,” Winter said.

He dropped a heavy gold coin in the boy’s hand. Lukas gawked at it.

“Winter, they ain’t going to be able to take this. We could buy the whole block for it.”

“Then take her upstairs after you’re done drinking,” Winter said. “Find a way to get your money’s worth.”

Lukas held the coin nervously. He did not want to buy five cents’ worth of moonshine with a double eagle. But neither did he want to displease Augustus Winter. And so he went over to the shack and handed the coin to the crone through the broken living room window. The coin disappeared.

“You’ll be wanting a party for this!” she said. “I’ll send for the girls.”

Lukas took the clear whiskey back to Winter, who was staring up and down the alley with his alien eyes. He looked like a visitor from the moon, or the depths of the sea.

“Look at this place,” Winter said. “You spread some money around a place like this, and they’ll die before they give you up.”

“Yes sir,” Lukas said.

“Jesse James has been hiding in places like this for years.”

“That’s what they say,” Lukas said.

Winter lifted his pint bottle, and Lukas lifted his. They clinked.

“Your health,” Lukas said politely.

Winter drank, coughed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Lukas pressed his tongue up against the neck of the bottle and did not swallow.

“So I guess it’s true about the train,” Lukas said. “I didn’t credit it. You riding with the Klan.”

“Where are the Empire brothers?” Winter asked.

“Chicago,” Lukas said, without hesitation.

“Chicago?”

“Yes sir,” Lukas said. He had been sworn to silence on this point but he would not lie to Augustus Winter. “Quentin Ross hid out here for a little while, along with big Freddy. Mother didn’t like it. Didn’t they fight! It was like a sackful of cats lit on fire. My mom read about what happened in Mississippi in the papers and she didn’t want nothing
to do with them. Then a telegram came, and Quentin left with Freddy for Chicago. Charlie and Johnny came later, and they went on after him.”

“Did they say where?” Winter asked.

“You mean where in Chicago?” Lukas said. “I don’t know. Something about Quentin’s brother? I didn’t even know he had a brother.”

Winter took another drink of whiskey.

Word had circulated about the double eagle, and men started coming up to the front of the house. All of them tipped their hats to Winter as they passed. One of them let out a little cheer. The women were tracking in as well. Anything above the age of sixteen looked impossibly dirty, finished, and old. All of them winked at Winter. He paid them no mind.

Twenty dollars. Winter could have had any man, woman, or child on this street for two bits. Lukas felt suddenly cold inside, and ashamed, though he could not say why.

“He said something about getting a pardon,” Lukas said. “Quentin’s brother was going to get them a pardon.”

At this Winter smiled thinly.

“Well, I guess we better head on up there and see what it’s all about,” he said.

At the word “we,” Lukas stiffened.

“I don’t know, Mister Winter,” Lukas said. “I was thinking of lying low for a while.”

Winter lifted his hat, looked at Lukas, and said nothing.

“You know, let the dust settle,” Lukas continued.

Winter’s pupils began to contract, down to little dark points.

“My family …,” Lukas began.

“If you gave one good goddamn about your family,” Winter said, his voice conversational, “if you gave one little shit, which you don’t, you’d stay the fuck away from them. You ain’t no good for your fucking family, Lukas Shakespeare. If you cared about those two fatherless bastards back in your hovel, hiding under the goddamn bed, because you brought the meanest son of a bitch in this country to their doorstep, you’d leave them a hundred dollars in gold and then come with me. Where you belong.”

Winter drank his whiskey. Eventually, Lukas did the same.

“But you don’t care about them,” Winter said. “Not except for how they make you feel about yourself. I know your type, Lukas. So have a drink and enjoy the party. And go or stay. I ain’t your goddamn keeper, thank Christ. But don’t be giving me any bullshit. I’m sick to death of it.”

Jan, Dusty, and Bill arrived at the Michigan Avenue Hotel well after ten o’clock. The door opened immediately after their knock, to almost pitch darkness. They fumbled their way inside and the door was shut behind them. Only then did the man who had opened the door raise the shutter on his lantern.

“Gentlemen,” Noah Ross said.

Jan Müller started. “You look just like your brother,” he said.

“The likeness is remarkable,” Dusty said.

“You must be hungry,” Noah said. “Please come with me.”

He let them into the dining room. Cold meats, cheese, and bread were waiting for them. While they ate, the waiter Archie pumped out foaming mugs of beer and set them down at the table.

“Is Quentin here?” Dusty asked.

“Yes, and Fred Johnson,” Noah said. “The Empire brothers arrived earlier today. They are both upstairs. You will be staying in this hotel. My brother will give you your instructions. All except for you, Mister Müller. Because of your German heritage we have picked you to attempt to infiltrate the Democratic Party. You will begin tomorrow. I recommend you attend the saloon of Ollie Reiman around noon and pass yourself off as a new immigrant looking for assistance. If you earn their confidence they may let you in on their other plans.”

“How shall I earn their confidence?” Jan asked around a large mouthful of bread and cheese.

“I will leave the details to you,” Noah said. He looked at his large silver pocket watch and then nodded at the three of them. “I must be off. I have a busy day tomorrow. Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

“Yes sir,” Dusty said.

Bill had already finished his beer, and he motioned to Archie for another. When Archie appeared to be moving slowly, Bill put a silver dollar on the table, and the waiter made it disappear and then increased his pace.

They ate and spoke by candlelight. Bill moved from beer to Scotch. A pleasant haziness enveloped his mind: the liquor, the dark, the quiet night. They heard footsteps approaching their table and turned to see Fred Johnson, dressed in only a union suit and carrying a candle.

“Freddy!” Dusty cried.

“Well look at you sorry sons of bitches,” Johnson said, shaking his head in disapproval.

Dusty stood up and clapped Johnson on the back. Jan only nodded, without making eye contact. Johnson did not acknowledge Jan at all. Shortly afterward, Jan excused himself and, taking Johnson’s candle, went to his room.

After he was gone, Dusty said, “Shit. How long are you two going to keep that up?”

“Ain’t no reason to quit,” Johnson said.

“It was eight years ago now,” Dusty said.

“It don’t matter,” Johnson said.

“How are you going to like being locked up in a hotel with him?” Dusty asked.

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” Johnson said with a smile, and his eyes caught the candlelight.

Dusty laughed.

“Is Quentin upstairs?” Bill asked as he took another swallow of whiskey.

“Nah,” Johnson said. He jerked his thumb in the direction of Archibald. “This whoreson’s been letting him out on the sly. He’s at some cathouse with the Empire brothers.”

Archie’s bright white smile was very noticeable in the dark.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dusty said. “What if someone sees them?”

“Hell no, it’s not a good idea,” Johnson said. “But what are you going to do?”

When Bill became drunk he gained a sad and knowing air, and he had it now.

They chatted more, and then Dusty went up to bed. Bill and Johnson were quiet for a while. Then Johnson turned to the waiter and said, “That’ll do, Archie.”

Archie left, and other than the candle at their table the darkness was complete in the shuttered dining room.

Johnson leaned back in his chair, so his face was out of the light. Bill sipped the last of his drink.

“They don’t lock up the bottles here at night or nothing like that?” Bill said.

“I thought you were going to quit,” Johnson said.

“I’m always going to quit,” Bill said. “You know how it is. You say you won’t have a drink, then you say that one can’t hurt you. Then you think, Well, hell, the first one didn’t hurt me, it’s not like one more will make a difference. Things proceed. Eventually you’re drunk. You can’t deny it. You’re drunk. Then you think, What a weak-willed son of a gun I am. I did it. I went and did it. I got drunk again. No self-control, no self-respect. What should you do then? Well, since you’re so worthless, why not get drunk? Perhaps tomorrow will be different.”

Johnson made an amused noise from the darkness. Eventually he said, “It couldn’t have helped. What happened in Mississippi.”

“There’s always an excuse,” Bill said. But then: “No, of course it didn’t help.”

After a pause, Johnson said, “We never got to talk too much after.”

“No.”

“I thought you were going to North Carolina.”

“I was.”

“How’d you end up with Müller?”

“There wasn’t nothing for me in North Carolina,” Bill said. “All my family’s land was gone. First it went to carpetbaggers. Then the Klan ran them off, and it was white folks. My family were sharecroppers, they had nothing for me, and no use for me. By then I was already drinking again. I kept thinking of my uncle. You know?”

Johnson’s eyes were flat. Bill continued.

“I knew Reggie had family in West Virginia so I went there. I met up with him. He was going to head out to Minnesota to meet with Müller. As it turned out, I went to Minnesota, and he went to Kansas instead. Those were tough days. I had some close calls with the law.”

“Why didn’t you come to Kansas?”

Bill shrugged.

“Müller had work. I could trust him.”

Johnson spat on the floor. “You can trust him,” he said.

“More than some,” Bill said.

“I know Quentin is no saint,” Johnson said. “But it wasn’t his fault what Winter did.”

“I know it,” Bill said. “I was there.”

“It can’t be true that the Empire brothers didn’t know anything about it.”

“I don’t believe it myself,” Bill said. “But I don’t know for sure. Winter sent me away, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we were in Aberdeen,” Bill said, toying with the crystal glass in his hand. “Me, Reggie, Johnny, and Charlie. And Winter. Some men from the town were missing and the people were telling us different stories of where they were at. Winter got the idea that they were with Captain Jackson, planning some raid. To be honest, I couldn’t disagree, but of course no one in that town would talk. And Winter, he just looks at me. Gives me this long, appraising look. Like he’s figuring how much I’m worth. So I said to him, What are you looking at? And he said, Bill, whyn’t you go search the Rodney place? It was about fifteen miles away.”

“I know it,” Johnson said.

“I took Reggie with me,” Bill said. “I had the strangest feeling riding out of that town. It was so quiet in the streets. Such a poor town, houses so run-down. No money there at all. I felt like there was a cold wind at my back. I felt like I was running, like I was being a coward, but I didn’t know what I was running from. Or I didn’t want to admit it.”

Bill shook his head, tossed the heavy crystal glass in his hand,
and caught it. Then he held it up to the candle, so that it broke apart the light and scattered it over the soiled tablecloth.

“I don’t see how he could have killed all those folks just on his own,” Bill said. “But that’s what he said. And no one who survived remembered Charlie or Johnny doing anything. Just Augustus Winter with his white hair and golden eyes.”

“Don’t think they don’t know it,” Johnson said. “Charlie and Johnny don’t suffer anyone to talk ill of Winter. It’s like he cast a damn spell on them or something. I think they’ve been looking for someone to boss them around since Duncan died.”

“Well, whatever anyone says,” Bill said, “Winter got rid of the Klan in that town.”

“Yeah,” Johnson said.

“Did you read about Winter in the papers? About how he was riding with the Klan?”

“I read it,” Johnson said. “I don’t believe it.”

“No?” Bill asked.

“Of course not. The Klan?” Johnson shook his head.

“Why not?” Bill asked.

“I can’t see how they’d have him. And he wouldn’t do that. Winter’s been fighting those sons of bitches for years.”

“Hmm,” Bill said. And then he whispered, so quietly that Johnson had to strain to hear him. “You didn’t see him. When Sevenkiller and Captain Jackson were torturing him. You didn’t see him then. I knew right away.”

“I think I know Augustus Winter by now,” Johnson said.

“You ought to,” Bill said. “There ain’t much to know.”

The next day found Ollie Reiman standing behind the bar in his saloon. It was just before the lunch rush and Ollie was polishing one mug after another and stacking them on the shelf. The door opened and a stranger came inside.

“Hello there,” Ollie said.

“Guten Tag,”
the man said.

“Do you speak English?”
Ollie asked in German.

“No,”
the man said.
“I’ve just come from New York. My cousin told me to come here.”

“Oh, welcome,”
Ollie said.
“Sit down, sit down!”