Read Online The Day Steam Died by Dick Brown - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dick Brown
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in the south edge of town, they were isolated with only one road in and out.
A scruffy, tobacco chewing man emerged from the front door and walked out to meet their chauffeured car. Ronnie Gaines, a no-nonsense, rough-around-the-edges former tobacco farm worker was the warehouse foreman.
He slipped and fell from one of the high beams and broke his shoulder while hanging sticks of strung tobacco in the top of a curing barn. The accident disabled him from the strenuous work of pulling, stringing, and hanging tobacco leaves. When Sam Johnson gave him a chance to work in his S & T warehouse, he became a loyal employee. Gaines made sure cases of cigarettes were removed from the delivery trucks to the warehouse without being damaged. He cast the same eagle eye over the forklift and loading crews when the cases were moved from the warehouse into boxcars quickly without damages.
The loading crew was all illegal Hispanic immigrants that stayed in a back room in the warehouse when not loading or unloading cases of cigarettes. A dark-skinned man dressed in a silk pin-striped suit with oily black, slicked-back hair watched every move inside and outside of the warehouse.
The front office was small and stuffy from a gas heater in the corner of the room. Ann entered cautiously, not knowing how she would be received or if the other workers knew why she was there. She was determined to work hard and keep her mouth shut, waiting for the right opportunity to make Tank Johnson pay for what he did to her.
Gaines escorted Ann and Red inside without introducing himself. He led them over to the office manager’s desk where a plain woman in her late fifties with graying cropped hair was smoking a cigarette.
“This here is Marie Wilson. Mr. Johnson said you can help her with filing, fixing coffee, or whatever she wants you to do. She runs the office and I run the warehouse. We come to work at eight, take a thirty-minute dinner break, and go home at 4:30. I guess that’s about all you need to know from me. If you have any questions, ask Marie. She can fill you in. I’ll be checking on you.” Gaines winked at Ann then motioned to Red. “You come with me. I’ll have to figure out something for you to do.”
The gangly foreman gave Ann a slow once over from head to toe, smiled, and then shuffled out of the office dragging his run-over-at-the-heel brogans with Red one step behind him.
“His name’s Ronnie,” Marie said. “Don’t pay no attention to him. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women. When he finds out you’re pregnant, he won’t come sniffing around no more. By the way, when’s the baby due?” Marie asked. “You don’t look very far along.”
Stunned by such a rude and personal question, Ann shot back angrily. “How did you know I’m pregnant?”
“Oh honey, calm down. There ain’t nothing goes on round here I don’t know about. Everybody Mr. Johnson sends here has a story or owes him a big favor. He pays better than anybody in Winston-Salem, and nobody gives a damn about what kind of business he’s running here,” Marie said, taking one last deep drag on the Pall Mall stub she could barely pinch between her thumb and index finger.
“That young buck son of his knock you up?” she said. “You ain’t the first one that hellion son of his knocked up. I heard the last one moved back to New York with a pocket full of hush money.”
Speechless at her first encounter with her new boss, Ann struggled with a response. It wasn’t any of her business if she was pregnant or who the father was. Better judgment told Ann to play along, to make friends with this person. She could be helpful in finding out about Sam’s secretive business.
“July fourth,” Ann said.
“What?” Marie lit a new cigarette from the stub of her old one before snuffing it out in the overflowing ashtray on her desk.
“July fourth. That’s when I’m due. Some Independence Day, huh?” Ann said. She paused for a few seconds then asked,
A scruffy, tobacco chewing man emerged from the front door and walked out to meet their chauffeured car. Ronnie Gaines, a no-nonsense, rough-around-the-edges former tobacco farm worker was the warehouse foreman.
He slipped and fell from one of the high beams and broke his shoulder while hanging sticks of strung tobacco in the top of a curing barn. The accident disabled him from the strenuous work of pulling, stringing, and hanging tobacco leaves. When Sam Johnson gave him a chance to work in his S & T warehouse, he became a loyal employee. Gaines made sure cases of cigarettes were removed from the delivery trucks to the warehouse without being damaged. He cast the same eagle eye over the forklift and loading crews when the cases were moved from the warehouse into boxcars quickly without damages.
The loading crew was all illegal Hispanic immigrants that stayed in a back room in the warehouse when not loading or unloading cases of cigarettes. A dark-skinned man dressed in a silk pin-striped suit with oily black, slicked-back hair watched every move inside and outside of the warehouse.
The front office was small and stuffy from a gas heater in the corner of the room. Ann entered cautiously, not knowing how she would be received or if the other workers knew why she was there. She was determined to work hard and keep her mouth shut, waiting for the right opportunity to make Tank Johnson pay for what he did to her.
Gaines escorted Ann and Red inside without introducing himself. He led them over to the office manager’s desk where a plain woman in her late fifties with graying cropped hair was smoking a cigarette.
“This here is Marie Wilson. Mr. Johnson said you can help her with filing, fixing coffee, or whatever she wants you to do. She runs the office and I run the warehouse. We come to work at eight, take a thirty-minute dinner break, and go home at 4:30. I guess that’s about all you need to know from me. If you have any questions, ask Marie. She can fill you in. I’ll be checking on you.” Gaines winked at Ann then motioned to Red. “You come with me. I’ll have to figure out something for you to do.”
The gangly foreman gave Ann a slow once over from head to toe, smiled, and then shuffled out of the office dragging his run-over-at-the-heel brogans with Red one step behind him.
“His name’s Ronnie,” Marie said. “Don’t pay no attention to him. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women. When he finds out you’re pregnant, he won’t come sniffing around no more. By the way, when’s the baby due?” Marie asked. “You don’t look very far along.”
Stunned by such a rude and personal question, Ann shot back angrily. “How did you know I’m pregnant?”
“Oh honey, calm down. There ain’t nothing goes on round here I don’t know about. Everybody Mr. Johnson sends here has a story or owes him a big favor. He pays better than anybody in Winston-Salem, and nobody gives a damn about what kind of business he’s running here,” Marie said, taking one last deep drag on the Pall Mall stub she could barely pinch between her thumb and index finger.
“That young buck son of his knock you up?” she said. “You ain’t the first one that hellion son of his knocked up. I heard the last one moved back to New York with a pocket full of hush money.”
Speechless at her first encounter with her new boss, Ann struggled with a response. It wasn’t any of her business if she was pregnant or who the father was. Better judgment told Ann to play along, to make friends with this person. She could be helpful in finding out about Sam’s secretive business.
“July fourth,” Ann said.
“What?” Marie lit a new cigarette from the stub of her old one before snuffing it out in the overflowing ashtray on her desk.
“July fourth. That’s when I’m due. Some Independence Day, huh?” Ann said. She paused for a few seconds then asked,
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