Chapter 38
The story so far: The criminals arrive and make themselves at home at Vince Torelli's.
Two days passed. In those forty-eight hours, the recruited company guards had made their presence known in town. They stayed up late into the night drinking whiskey and occasionally getting into fights with each other. They wandered the streets of town, popping in and out of taverns. A few of them walked up to Merritt Lake, past the Slovenski Dom, to swim. They could perform no legal duties until they were officially deputized, so their first few days were like a paid vacation.
The strikers walked the picket lines in shifts from 6 a.m. until 9 p.m. Each mine had its own revolving circle of men holding protest signs. The women came to deliver lunches and refreshments. Sometimes the women with older children stayed and sang, or chanted slogans with their husbands. But the wives with young children had too many chores to finish and most only lingered long enough to exchange food and quick greetings. Because the company guards were still not authorized to work, the strikers outnumbered the guards by at least thirty to one at every mine. There had been no violence.
At night, the strikers met secretly to plan. The groups that could not speak English met at houses in the middle of the night. Other larger gatherings assembled in the forest.
The deputizing ceremony was slated to begin at 8 a.m. on June 21 in Biwabik. Katka was there on time, but she noted that only a handful of the new arrivals showed up. The rest meandered over to the courthouse closer to 10 a.m. Some obviously hadn't slept yet. Many were still drunk from the night before. They laid about the grass of the courthouse lawn, some snoring loudly. None seemed in a hurry to start the job they'd been hired to do, especially since they knew so little about it.
Finally, at 10:30 a.m., Mr. Augustine Stone, owner of the Oliver, and Sheriff Turner came out onto the lawn. The sheriff handed each man a shiny, five-point badge. He looked at his new deputies with disdain. They were a mangy lot. How many of these men had he arrested previously?
The sheriff looked about at the crowd, as if taking inventory of which labor leaders and strikers had shown up. Andre the Bulgarian was not there. Milo was nowhere to be seen. Sam Scarlett was there, standing by himself, near the regal steps leading to the front door. Paul was there too, holding his Luger, standing protectively next to Katka, who was vigilantly taking notes. Adeline Sherek and Helen Cerkvenik stood across the street with a group of women outside the mercantile. A few businessmen were there with their wives and several children hung in the perimeter. Harris Maki was present, his buggy parked on Main Street. Andy, the soda pop distributor, had been there since early morning. It was the hottest summer anyone could remember and Andy was doing well. He had already sold more than five hundred bottles to the new deputies.
