Whiskey in the Jar

"Zib… hey Zib! Zib, wake up!" Rocky called out to his friend and mentor who was currently face-down on the floor, still halfway in the knocked over chair he used as a bed. Zib, annoyed, finally mustered the strength to open his eyes.

"Mmm, what is it?"

"We got a load of liquid gold for the speakeasy!" Rocky declared, standing up to dance around in his excited state. Zib notice something else as well.

"Christ, what are you wearing?"

"A dress. You like it?"

"B-but why?"

"It was my clever disguise used to pull off the biggest heist in the history of this speakeasy!"

"God, I need a drink. It's too early to be dealing with this…"

"But it's noon?"

"Exactly."

"You can drink to your heart's content later, Zib. Once we get all the liquor down the stairs."

"Alright, alright, I'll muster the troops. And for the love of God, go find your usual clothes before someone sees you."

Zib, with Sy and the band behind him, climbed the stairs to the entrance of the garage. As they did so, the pie truck backed in. Now that the café was gone, the truck looked a bit more out of place, but Mitzi had said she kept the business alive "on paper" so at least the cops wouldn't be snooping around. Shutting the truck off, Ransom stumbled out of the cab while taking a swig from a small bottle.

"Is the back of the truck filled with more of that?" Sy asked.

"What, this? God, I hope not. It's medication for a… chest infection."

"Hmm. Well, what did you and the kid score?"

"Come see for yourself, boys!" Ransom unlocked the back doors, flinging them both open. Stacked to the roof were case after case of liquor.

"Holy…"

"Yeah, no wonder this place wasn't able to compete with the big operations. This was just one truck."

"So where's Ethan?" Zib asked while he lifted himself into the back of the truck to start passing down cases of whiskey.

"He and Mordecai Heller should be right in the belly of the beast about now. They mean to burn the largest warehouse owned by Vito Giannola in the city."

"No kidding. I hope he knows what he's doing."

"Ethan's got this well in hand, Zib." Rocky said as he finished adjusting his tie. "He wants to keep the fight away from us, and what better way to do that than to take the battlefield elsewhere?"

"That still leaves us with the problem of being unemployed." Zib countered. "Not that I'm complaining too much, going every night without a couple of days off was getting old."

"I agree completely, Zib! An artist must feel free to change things up a bit, try something else, do something different. That's why Ethan got us another gig."

"What? Where?"

"At the Maribel. Asa is going to let us play there a couple nights a week."

"Really? But what does Asa get in return? The guy is no schmuck."

"Ethan and Mordecai are eliminating competition for him."

"Whatever works I guess. Alright kid, here's your box. Rinse and repeat then back to sleep!"

The truck was empty in a matter of a few minutes. Zib, Rocky, Ransom, and the whole band were now looking at a stock room full of stolen booze. Sy was the first to pull out a bottle.

"Considering this stuff was as cheap as you weigh, Rocky, you think Mitzi would mind if we had a sampling?"

"Drink up, gents! Wet the palette to your heart's content! This will be for our last big night."

"I think I'm going to take one for the road. It's been a while since I have something that was worth a damn." Ransom said. "What about you, son?"

"Oh, I guess I can stash a bottle or two in the farmhouse."

"You aren't going back there, are you? You almost died!"

"Yes, but I have a feeling that Giannola's associates are going to be too busy to check out that place. Besides, we can't just live at Wick's house. We've already had to go there three times in a year. Young Joseph has had so much change in the last month, he needs some consistency."

"Careful Rocky, you're starting to sound like a parent."

"Well, I can hardly help it! He's… not like me, thankfully. But the boy lost his mother, his father, his home. History might not repeat itself, but it sure does rhyme! I don't ever want Joseph to feel alone or unloved, so once we're done here, I am looking forward to spending time with the kid and to make him feel like he's part of the family."

As Rocky climbed into the car, Ransom could only stand there and ponder over how much his son… cared. That little boy wasn't related to him. Rocky owed the kid nothing at all, and despite not having any relation to Joseph, Rocky was ready and willing to hang up his hat and just be there. In that moment, the guilt Ransom had been burying deep inside his mind finally broke free. There wasn't sorrow or depression, just a realization and understanding that he had messed up in not doing the same thing when Rocky was young. But could he have been a better father? That was a question he would never get to answer. Even if he wasn't dying, its not like he could go back to fix anything.

However, what Ulysses had told him echoed in Ransom's head. He was now contributing to his own son's downfall. Even when he took the job, he had been assured that Rocky wasn't on the list of targets. He was a violinist, a small fish in a very big pond. Yet working for Mitzi had put his only son's future in jeopardy. Rocky was an accomplice. A useful accomplice to the feds, perhaps, but he would be in prison no matter what. Yet, if he told Ethan about his true purpose in joining the Lackadaisy crew then there was no way Ethan wouldn't bring the hammer down on him. Looking around the now empty alley, Ransom shook his head, stuffed the bottle of whiskey in his coat pocket, and made for the streetcar stop.

Old Ireland and Young America

Rocky drove down the gravel road, dust rising up behind the car in a towering, rolling column. It was the usual route to the farm, a road he had taken many times in the past. He remembered when Freckle and himself torched the old farmstead owned by those pig farmers. To get close enough to not be detected, Rocky had pulled off onto a back country two-track which wound its way through the woods. He recalled the way a tree tilted at an odd angle as a marker to warn him of the nearly hidden turnoff. Despite not having leaves, Rocky recognized the old oak tree. Hanging a right, he plodded through the woods, fallen foliage being smashed into the dirt under the car tires.

Rolling slowly to a stop, Rocky shut off the car and got out of the seat. Sneaking slowly through the woods, he moved with an unusual grace, avoiding sticks and other things which might let anyone nearby know of his presence. After nearly a half a mile, Rocky came upon a fence he recognized. It was the corner post to the back forty at the farm. He snuck up to the fence line and poked his head out, looking carefully around him. All was quiet. Just as he was about to make a move to hop the fence, a twig snapped to his right. Freezing, he pivoted his head in the direction of the sound, praying that he hadn't just been discovered. The source of the noise was merely a deer, who looked back at him with a curious stare, chewing grass she had just uprooted.

"Shhh!" Rocky gestured toward the deer, who promptly trotted off deeper into the woods. Now over the fence, Rocky continued his stealthy reconnaissance. Climbing up onto the field, he noted that there was still a deep crimson stain under one tree. A bloodied handprint was still visible on the bark of the oak, a marking which matched his hand perfectly. A reminder of his greatest mistake. He was the older cousin, and almost like an older brother to Freckle. He had known that by since he was a baby, and he lead him right into danger. Thoughts in hindsight dug at his conscious.

He shook off the terrifying memory of what had happened a few days earlier. Moving on, he next came to the site of the half-built copper still. His face was reflected at him in golden tones, distorted by the curvature of the object. For the briefest of moments, anger rose within him. Liquid gold, the thing which was nearly the undoing of his family! He whispered a curse on the still and nearly kicked it, stopping himself as he remembered that the noise might draw unwanted attention. Crossing the field, he found that his quiet discipline was not needed. There wasn't anyone around. No recent footprints and the tire tracks in the dirt were over a day old. Neither barn nor farmhouse had been disturbed, so he entered the house through the back door. Moving like a shadow through the darkened interior, he checked every room. Nothing had been disturbed since he had rummaged through Riley and Joseph's belongings earlier.

Letting out a deep sigh of relief, he sat down on the couch in the living room. For the moment, the place was as safe as it was quiet. Alone with his thoughts and with no need to put on a brave face to the world, Rocky cried into his hands. The last week had just been too much to take, and with those tears came every emotion he had suppressed. Regret, fear, sadness, and guilt all welled up from deep inside his soul. Rocky was aware that he had looked like a mess crying over Freckle but this was deeper. A deep sadness dwelled within those happy eyes and just for a little while he let it out, safe in the knowledge that no one would bear witness.

Picking his head up, a beam of light from the window bounced off the silver strings of his violin. A gift from a hobo while on his adventures, the instrument summed up his life. It's melodies could be sad or upbeat, sweet and mellow or boisterous and full of life. His mother had taught him to play, that hobo taught him how to make the instrument sing for him and the people out west were always pleased to hear a familiar memory conjured from those four simple strings. It mattered not how much he was ignored the rest of the time, when he picked up that violin, he could let the world see his soul.

"Hello, old friend. I almost forgot about you." He said to the instrument, running his fingers down the string and watching the settled dust and old rosin float up into the stale air.

To regain his emotional balance, Rocky gently picked up the instrument, adjusting the tuners until each string sounded just right. In a rare show of methodical care, Rocky tightened the bow before running rosin down the bleached horsehairs. The butt of the violin effortlessly found its place in the hollow of Rocky's neck, gently held in place with his chin. Placing the bow on the D-string, he gained his composure and slowly glided horsehair over steel. A warm, rich sound grew within the instrument, flowing out through the holes with an energy which echoed throughout the house.

Mellow and relaxed, the music rose and fell like waves on the shore, pulsating like prairie grass in a summer wind. The old melody was one of his mother's. After all these years he could still recall each note. It was a beautiful tune, a mix of sadness at leaving old Ireland and the hope for a better tomorrow in young America. That tomorrow now rested with him. After several minutes, Rocky brought the song to a slow conclusion, drawing the bow across the fifth above that open D instead of a seventh below, that hope remaining in the last upbeat note.

Checking the clock on the wall, it was nearly 3 o'clock. He would be late picking up the kids, but he needed that time to himself. Rising from the couch, Rocky carefully packed the instrument away and snapped the case closed. Adjusting his hat, he strode out the back door and into the afternoon sun. Setting a quick pace across the field, he paused only long enough to give the half-built still a defiant kick.

My Brother's Secret

Joseph looked up at the clock. One more minute and he would be free to run around outside while he and Riley waited for someone to come pick them up. He wanted to see the farm again, that peaceful haven out of the city. Though he had only spent a little time there, he already felt like the country life was for him. Of course, he also hoped to spend some time with the people who had taken him in.

"Okay class, you're dismissed for the day! I will see you all here tomorrow. Riley and Joseph, when one of your brothers come to take you home, I would like to speak with them if you don't mind."

"We will let Rocky know, Mrs. Casewell." Riley replied as she picked up her books and stuffed them into the shoulder bag. She let Joseph put a couple of his books in there as well. Nearly eleven as she already felt like a babysitter. At least Joseph had enough confidence now that he didn't need to hold her hand or walk so close behind her.

Outside, Joseph bolted to catch up to the older boys who were getting themselves arranged into a bare-bones team. They didn't have enough for both an infield and outfield, but they could toss the ball around and work on coordination. At least that's the way Casy put it. As he got closer, Joseph noticed that the boys were focused on something in the middle of their group.

He could hear Nick as he got closer. "See Casy, I told you that her brother was a killer."

"Oh come on, there's a lot of 'Kellys' out there, Nick."

"Man you're stubborn as a goat, aren't you? Here, it says he came from Butte, Montana. That's where Mrs. Casewell said Riley came from. You know what? Why don't we ask Cal, I bet he can shed some light on this." Nick then popped his head up and waved Joseph over.

"Hey Cal! I got some questions to ask you about those guys who took you in."

"What about them?" He replied.

Casy rolled his eyes. "Nick still thinks that Riley's brother is a killer. He found this book that described an 'Ethan Kelly' fighting in the war."

Joseph's mind conjured up the memory of them all being shot at. Ethan throughout it all was the one who was fighting back. The rifle he pulled out of the car looked like one the soldiers used on parade, but it was beaten and worn out. He had not yet asked Ethan about it though, or the man's past.

"See, he's drawing a blank, Nick. Just drop the topic, will ya?"

"You're the one who's got the hots for Riley over there. It's like you want to get murdered or something. Even my uncle said that he heard shooting back there."

"Everyone knew to stay away from those pig farmers, Nick. They were cooking up something back there. Probably got in a shootout or two."

"This was from a few days ago. He was turkey hunting and said it was like being near a battlefield."

"Why don't you just ask Riley?" Joseph offered. "I haven't been around them long enough to know."

"What? But… I, uh, I—" Casy stammered. Now it was Nick's turn to roll his eyes. "Casy is too chicken, Cal. But you could ask her for us."

Nick then thrusted the book into Joseph's hands, turned him around by the shoulders, and gave him a gentle nudge toward the tree Riley was studying under.

"What if she gets mad?" Joseph asked, tilting his head back into Nick's chest to look up at the older boy. Nick just smiled back.

"Then come running back to us. We've got your back, kid."

Joseph approached Riley cautiously. He knew she didn't like being disturbed much by homework. In fact, Riley hated homework but the guys were always pushing her to do her best. Rocky pushed him to do his best as well, but there were other things occupying his caretaker in the last few days. Riley was indeed studying. She was filling out the history worksheet that Mrs. Casewell assigned today as part of their catch-up work.

"Hey, Riley?"

She sighed, looking up. "What is it, Joseph?"

"The guys wanted me to ask you about Ethan."

Riley instantly tensed up as she saw the book Joseph was holding out to her. "Where did they get that?"

"Nick said there was a copy at his house. They think whoever was in the book is Ethan."

"Well, you know what they do for a living by now, right?"

"Yeah. Rocky said they chase gold."

"No, they chase liquid gold. Come one, Joseph, you were standing in the speakeasy. You can't have alcohol, so they sell it in secret."

"Oh!" The dots all connected in an instant. "So your brother is a gangster."

"What, no! Well… kinda… I guess. But so is Rocky, Freckle, Ivy, Miss M, and I guess Mr. Sable too. Look, you can't talk about that, okay. We could all get in a lot of trouble, understand?"

He nodded his head 'yes'. "But then what do I tell them?"

Riley stood up, leading Joseph by the hand. "Just let me do the talking, squirt."

The two walked over to the gathering of boys who were talking amongst themselves. "Okay, why do you want to know about my brother?"

Nick held his hand out to take the book back from Joseph. "We just want to know if Ethan was the person in the book. Casy, uh, was curious…"

"Well he's not some killer, if that's what you want to know. He said the stuff in that book is exaggerated."

"Huh?"

"Exaggerated, you know, like when you tell everyone how big of a fish you caught. You always add a few inches to the fish later."

"So he wasn't possessed by some voodoo demon and went crazy, killing Germans left, and right?"

"He did say he had to fight in a battalion that got lost. My brother doesn't like to talk about it."

Casy puffed out his chest. "See, Nick? And you guys thought Ethan was going to murder me."

"Murder you for what?" Riley asked.

"For, uh…"

Nick seized the opportunity to embarrass his friend. "For having a crush on you!"

Riley's cheeks immediately turned red when she looked at Casy who was stumbling to find a clever answer. There was no use in hiding it though, she could see it.

"I'm, uh, going to go…" She quickly walked away trying to hide her face.

Casy stood there in awkward silence before turning angry at his friend. "Aw man, what was that for?! You ratted me out."

"Well, I for one was getting sick of watching you avoid the subject, so I thought I'd just help you along." Nick replied, crossing his arms in pride. "Although, I would like to know what that shooting was about."

"Oh, that was just… target practice. Freckle was getting ready to go deer hunting."

Nick then shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, if you say so."

Casy, still mad, decided to use his authority as the team captain. "Just for that, Nick, you're catching the balls we don't catch!"

Rocky pulled up to the school and got out of the car. Walking to the building, he peaked inside and only saw the teacher. Following the voices of children, he went to the back of the school and stopped to lean on the corner of the structure, taking in the sight of the older boys teaching Joseph how to catch and throw a baseball. He recalled how Nina insisted that both he and Freckle play the sport as kids, though Freckle took to the sport like a fish to water. He was by no means at the level of a professional, but his cousin was one of the best as a teen. He couldn't help but feel a certain amount of pride for the boy, despite the fact that he had very little to do with the apparent friends Joseph now had. He did catch one word repeatedly though. They weren't calling him "Joseph", but rather "Cal".

"Cal, huh? I like it. Calvin is Freckle and Joseph is Cal. I wonder where they… oh yeah. Calhoun." He mumbled to himself.

"Oh, you must be Ethan's brother." Mrs. Casewell observed, catching Rocky off guard. He stumbled back, almost falling to the ground but just catching himself on the corner of the building with his claws.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!" The teacher apologized.

"That's quite alright. Just… It's been a week, ma'am."

"I figured as much. There was talk around the neighborhood about something happening on the farm."

"Really? Talk of what nature, exactly?"

"Nick says his uncle heard shooting."

"Oh, that! That was just… let's see, what was Freckle doing again?"

"Target practice, remember Rocky?" Riley said, walking up to them and bailing Rocky out of having to find an excuse.

"Yes, target practice! He and Ethan were getting ready for…"

"…hunting. Jeez, Rocky, you've been working too hard. The memory is starting to slip."

Rocky could only hope that Mrs. Casewell would buy it. He looked at her nervously. She stood there, looking between adult and child before shrugging her shoulders. "Sounds about right for the folks around here. Anyway, Riley, why don't you go on and get Joseph while I talk to Rocky."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Casewell!" Riley exclaimed, trotting off. Rocky turned to the teacher with a quizzical look. "Talk about what?"

"Absences. Now I'll admit that it's a common occurrence out here for a child to be out of school now and then, but since you took Joseph in, they've been out of school almost as often as they've been present."

"I see. Yes, we've had some things come up abruptly."

"Well, I'm sure you can appreciate the necessity of children coming to class. Riley is a little behind her grade but she works hard to catch up. Joseph really needs someone to spend time teaching him to read. I don't know who taught the poor child before, but he's going to fall further behind without some structure and support."

"I could not agree more, ma'am. And I'm sure Ethan understands as well. We will endeavor to make sure our young ones perform to standard."

"Very good, Mr., uh…"

"Rickaby, ma'am. The familial relationship to Riley and Ethan is a bit convoluted."

"Not my place to pry, Mr. Rickaby. Anyway, I expect to see them in class more often in the future."

"Yes, will do!" Rocky said as Riley came back with Joseph in tow.

In the car, the kids opted to ride up front. Rocky got in and started the slick sedan. "This one is way better than the old one, wouldn't you say?" He asked the kids.

"It's more comfortable." Riley commented, settling into the seat and leaning her head against the window.

"Are we going home?" Joseph asked.

"I think we will be in a day or two. Can't afford to keep driving out here twice a day, and Mrs. Casewell insisted you two be back in school. So, what did you two learn today? Anything fun or exciting?"

"Not much." Riley replied.

After a minute of silence, Joseph asked the question that had been on his mind for the past half hour. "Hey Rocky… are you and Ethan gangsters?"

Rocky didn't quite know how to respond to that. "I wouldn't say we are. More like vigilantes. Yes, that's the word. Freckle didn't quite get it at first, but when you think about it that would make sense."

"What's a vigil auntie."

"No, vigilante. It's like a policeman, only we don't have badges."

"Wow, so you fight bad guys?"

"That's one way of looking at it."

"Come on, Rocky, don't fib." Riley commented. "What about the speakeasy and all that stuff?"

"Okay, but we aren't gangsters. At least in the typical sense. The proper term is rumrunners, or bootleggers but we aren't doing that anymore. The speakeasy is closed, Miss M is going to have to find herself something else to occupy her time. Zib and the band are going to be playing at a different establishment, and your brother is off making sure that no one comes back to hurt us."

Riley and Joseph seemed to take in all of that. "Does that mean we can talk about it?" Joseph asked.

"Uh… no. That probably would not be a good idea. It's best to gloss over our previous occupations."

"And what are you going to do?" Riley asked, both kids now taking turns to pester Rocky with all the things on their mind.

"I guess I'm going to… um… hmm. You know, I haven't figured that part out yet. I'll be with the band twice a week, but regular employment has never been one of my strengths. I guess helping Freckle recover would be one way to fill the time. And… you know, how would you kids like to make Halloween decorations? And then there's Thanksgiving and Christmas! There's also the matter of your school work. Mrs. Casewell wants you both to be making more progress."

"But—" Riley protested.

"I know, I know. You two haven't had a lot of time to get back in the saddle, have you? But that changes today. Besides, I guess with Freckle and Ethan focused on other things, someone ought to be focusing on you two."

Rolling down the road, Rocky thought of all the possibilities. Playing catch, doing homework, teaching the kid how to swim, how to catch fish, even things like basic hygiene. He wasn't a master at any of that stuff, but someone was going to have to teach Joseph. And there were a few things Riley could use help with too. She seemed to be quiet and less inquisitive recently, that was something Ethan was going to have to investigate. But in the mean time there were things like going to the park or finding a hay wagon ride that they could do together.

Rocky soon felt Joseph lean against his side, tired from being up all day. Rocky gently placed his arm around the kid, making sure that he could still reach the shifter if needed. Riley was already asleep, being rocked gently by the car as it bounced down the road. Pulling into Wick's driveway half an hour later, Rocky gently shook Riley awake before picking up Joseph and carrying the boy inside and up to the bedroom. It would be a few days until the kid was back to a normal sleep pattern. He shut off the lights before gently closing the door, reminding himself to come back and wake him up before dinner.