Blood and iron

"What can I get for you, dear?" Elizabeth asked, coming out of the kitchen. "How did it go today?"

"Got plenty of hauling business," Cinci

"We made it." Elizabeth's voice was warm with pride.

"Sure enough did," Cinci

"Amen," Elizabeth said, as if he'd been a preacher making a point in the pulpit.

"Amen," Achilles echoed; he liked going to church of a Sunday morning.

Cinci

"Most of 'em do, uh-huh." Elizabeth nodded. Her eyes sparkled-or maybe it was a trick of the sun-bright electric bulb above her head. She turned and went back into the kitchen. Her skirt swirled around her, giving Cinci

She opened the icebox, then came back into the living room. In her hand was a tall glass of golden liquid with a creamy white head, on her face a look of triumph. Cinci

"Chinaman upstairs makes it," Elizabeth answered.

"I'll be." He shook his head in wonder. "I didn't even know Chinamen drank beer, let alone made it." He took the glass from Elizabeth, raised it to his mouth, and cautiously sipped. He smacked his lips, pondering, then nodded. "It ain't great beer, but it's beer, sure enough."

"I know." Now Elizabeth's eyes definitely twinkled. "Had me some before I'd pay the Chinaman for it. Don't drink that all up now-why don't you bring it to the table with you? Beef stew's just about ready."

Spit jumped into Cinci

After supper, while Elizabeth washed dishes, Cinci

Now, though, Achilles had the key. "Ban," he read. "Can. Dan. Fan. Man. Pan. Ran. Tan. Bat. Cat. Fat. Hat. Mat. Pat. Rat. Sat. Den. Fen… What's a fen, Pa?"

"Du

"Hen. Men. Pen. Ten. Wen." That one made the dictionary open again, as dx?. Achilles beamed. "I can read, Pa!"

"You're gettin' there," Cinci

"I want to read stories like the ones you read to me," Achilles said.

"You're gettin' there," Cinci

So did Cinci

He felt more affection for the truck than he ever had down in Covington. It had run very well since the overhaul he'd given it before moving to Iowa. He wished he'd overhauled it sooner; it would have served him better in Kentucky. He climbed in and drove to the wharves along the Des Moines.

At the high-water season, steamboats were tied up at almost all the piers. Some of the haulers who took their goods to merchants and warehouses were black like him; most were white. Despite his color, he had no trouble getting work. The sheer volume of unloading had something to do with that. But he'd also established a reputation for dependability. He hoped that would give him a boost when the river went down and jobs grew scarcer.

After hauling dry goods to several general stores, a cargo of plates and bowls to a china shop, and a truckful of reams of paper to the State Capitol over on the east side of the Des Moines, he came back to the wharves to eat his di

"Business is bully," said Sims, a stocky, very black man in his mid-forties. "Here's hoping it lasts."

Du

Cinci

Du

"I talk like I talk. Can't hardly help it," Cinci

Pete Du

"What's wrong with my name?" Now Cinci

TVI rather have me a boring name than sound like I was named after a city," Du

"The city's named after me, not the other way round," Cinci