The Bounty of Palmetto Key

By Shirley B. Ring

In early March, Rachel returns to the family homestead on Palmetto Key. Due to an exceptionally mild north Florida winter, she plans to prepare her spring garden early. A fresh crop of culinary herbs and other botanicals wait for her in the greenhouse.

From an off-handed conversation with Tommy Otter, an old childhood friend, she learns the island’s local banker, Jeffery Manning, is up to his old tricks of cheating those of color on their transactions. Rachel despises this and all the many other injustices vented against the less fortunate. With a little help from the unpredictable Mother Nature and Tommy, Rachel activates her plan to stop Jeffery’s shenanigans once and for all.

Two days after her arrival a freak and dangerous cold front blasts hurricane strength winds with an icy freezing frenzy upon the island. The timing is perfect. The hungry seedlings in the greenhouse will feed, grow big and strong on the blood of someone thought washed out to sea.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Write Words Inc.
• Release date: Aug 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781613861165

Book preview

Chapter 1

With a hiss of brakes followed by the tenuous squeal of metal on metal The Local lurched and eventually came to a full stop beside the depot in Archer Florida.

Rachel Starkey Tobias breathed in a whiff of cedar as she slipped the soft cashmere sweater over her new dress. The odor clung to the clothing hung in the small cubicle during the previous six of an eight-hour train ride from Palatka. She twisted a few natural curls of short brown hair outside the rim of her cloche hat and left the private sleeper compartment. If there were no delays due to felled trees across the tracks or engine trouble, she would be in Palmetto Key in two hours for a month long stay at the Starkey family home.

She stood on the coach platform and waited for her escort. When she heard the latch of his compartment disengage, she quickly left the train. Not now or ever in the mood for the likes of Albert Lawrence, maybe if she stayed several steps ahead it would ward off any conversation. Albert, barely and only tolerated due to his family’s close association with hers that went back at least two generations. While growing up she addressed him as uncle. Rachel, now thirty-two and he fifteen years her senior no longer used the title.

Pine planks ran from the train to the covered porch of the depot. It was impossible not to notice the planks solely positioned in front of this one particular car. The other passengers in the forward coach exited the train directly onto a thick layer of clay, sticky and wet from the previous night’s rain.

Need some assistance, Miss Pretty Lady? A dark young lad of maybe eight inquired.

Behind him stood three others of the same age and kind, all dressed in tattered overalls and worn faded flannel shirts. Their bare feet sank into the muddy ground. If the chill of the first week of this early March morning was a bother to them, it did not show. Warily the young boys waited at a respectful distance ready to bolt if she uttered the least sound their approach was a nuisance.

Rachel carefully centered her feet in the middle of the planks so none of the mushy clay splashed onto her satin pumps. She pulled a quarter and a nickel along with a single dollar bill from her clutch. The four young boys’ eyes took on the round dimensions of a medicine ball.

We could use a beverage and there’s enough left over so all of you can have one too. She held the shiny coins out of reach over the head of the one who spoke to her. If you can bring us two of the coldest bottles of Coke available, I’ll give you this as a tip. Rachel waved the dollar and watched their eyes grow even wider. I’ll wait for you by the steps.

The boys bounded off to the rear of the depot, toward the Colored entrance.

Best you not be so free about waving money around in certain places. I’m hearing things from Washington I won’t go into here, Albert Lawrence warned. The ongoing recession is surely a sign the nation is about to plunge deep into the affinity of Hell. Already in this great and glorious Year of our Lord of 1930 with Herbert Hoover in office, this country is in a major tailspin. Might as well have inaugurated a goat.

As the daughter of Clara Osborn and Richard Edmund Starkey II and a widow of Douglas Elliot Tobias III, Rachel kept her counsel. She remained silent and held her expression neutral. It was rude to discuss politics in such a public place especially with a member of the opposite sex. If she felt a need to vent her own views on the current economic conditions, there was plenty of time to do so in a more private setting once she settled in on the island.

Obvious, from Albert’s present and past rants their opinions were to vary greatly. Rachel found it illogical to think all of this country’s woes happened so suddenly. The Nation’s tailspin, as Albert called it, began long before Herbert Hoover and his lovely wife Lou ever slept in the coveted Presidential bedchamber. Her father and older brother, Edmund, predicated the current financial problems five years ago. Clearly, the overabundance of corruption and greed rampart among the already wealthy two percent secured during the latter part of the past century finally filtered down to those who wanted more by the same means.

It’s going to be such a lovely day. If there are no unscheduled stops I’ll be able to work in my garden on the Key this afternoon, Rachel gushed. Oh, I know it’s rather early in the season, but I can at least do some rudimentary preparations. The shop in Palatka has been quite busy as of late. I’m low on some of the herbal teas and tonics.

Albert cast off the attempted change of subject once he took note there were passengers within hearing range. He puffed up enough to strain the already spread out buttons of his silk vest. So you won’t be attending the dinner party at the White House at the end of the month? He tapped his walking stick against a plank and loudly continued, Why the hell I was invited, I’ll never know. It’s no secret I fully supported Al Smith. No matter he’s a Catholic and a Democrat.

With a tremendous show of will power, Rachel stayed silent. As a long ago Lawrence outcast, Albert was no more invited to a White House function than the young children who fetched their drinks. Some how, he must have learned that the rest of his family as well as hers including Rachel and her two brothers were on the guest list.

At the edge of the depot steps Rachel turned around and said, Why don’t you take a seat in one of the porch rockers until we need to board.

Albert leaned heavily on the walking stick he used whenever his gout flared up. Might not be able to offer you transport in my coach much longer. Need to get rid of it in order to pay property taxes if the place in Palatka doesn’t sell this year. Soon I’ll be traveling with the likes of them. He jerked his thumb toward three Negro women heading toward the train. They each carried a picnic basket covered with red-checkered cloth. Just letting you know so you can make other arrangements in the future. He looked directly at her and coldly sneered, Which you can well afford to do.

Rachel matched his hard stare. This last remark meant as a veiled attempt for her to offer him more money than she already handed over for her fare. I’m sure it will all work out. No need to worry a worry.

Albert let out a snort. Don’t try and placate me. You have no idea what is occurring in the real world. You and your kind will go on as usual and never feel the degradation about to befall the masses.

She ignored the outburst as the children slogged through the mud toward them. Finally, there was some truth in Albert’s words. The Starkey family would go on with barely a flicker no matter what happened in this country. Their wealth fully integrated in the Chinese and European investment practices that had been around much longer.

With an impromptu dramatic flair, Rachel pulled another single bill from her purse and happily traded the two dollars for the bottles of ice cold Coke. Albert mumbled several curses as he watched her dole out a good half-day’s wages suitable for field hands and lumber workers to a group of children. Negro children no less!

Women like you need not handle their own affairs. Clearly as with the rest of your gender, you have terrible judgment with limitative capacity for much more than Sunday Socials or afternoon teas, he hissed.

A small smile curled at the corners of her lips. It was quite satisfying to think how much her actions galled him and how there was nothing he could do about it. Why he almost knocked her off the pine planks as he angrily made for one of the rockers!

While Albert quietly fumed his displeasure from his perch on the porch, Rachel remained standing at the bottom of the depot steps. You are such an insufferable dinosaur whose lies and prideful opinions have no place here or any where else, she mumbled under her breath, half-hoping he’d hear.

She continued to goad him when he cut a glance in her direction. She gave him a bemused smirk along with a few coy finger waves followed by a playfully animated toast with the bottled Coke. Beneath the feigned frivolity lay a steely loathing. She held back an amused snicker least the carbonated beverage spew forth in un-lady-like fashion from her nose.

Albert totally unaware how much Rachel so thoroughly enjoyed toying with her prey.

Chapter 2

On the porch of the depot, she stayed as far away from Albert as possible yet near enough to afford she was not traveling alone. She could have easily taken a water taxi to the port in Jacksonville, caught a plane to Tampa and then boarded another steamer to the island. Although a much more comfortable mode of travel, this would delay her arrival on Palmetto Key by at least two days. Rachel did not want to wait any longer. Tommy was back on the island after one of his frequent trips to South Florida and Cuba.

There was of course the other reason she secured passage on Albert’s private coach. Rachel was terrified of airplanes long before her late husband, Elliot crashed over a remote South American jungle.

She moved closer to a spot of sunshine filtering in under the porch overhang. Thoughts of Tommy warmed her more than the incoming slanted rays. He was presently the part-time manger and caretaker of the Starkey estate on the island. The reality being, Tommy was so much more. Rachel felt a small flutter in the pit of her stomach when she recalled the last telegram from him. Terse in it’s delivery with few words. "Look forward to seeing you again. Stop. I will remain during the entire length of your stay." Stop. Least she imagine more, Rachel turned her attention back to the surroundings.

Albert was deep in conversation with a man about his age dressed in boots with jeans held up by suspenders worn over a soft well-aged cotton shirt. The two droned on in monotonous monotones about the unpredictable Florida weather. A topic total strangers with nothing else in common could converse on for hours.

She quietly listened to the mulled over forecast…Afternoon temperatures expected in the low eighties once the sun bakes off the morning chill…Noticeable already with it being almost too warm to stand in direct sun, yet too cool in the shade…This warming trend schedule to last at least one more day, followed by the warning of a late season cold front. The front rumored to bring rain, a few days of bitter cold along with a hard freeze.

Rachel joined in the conversation Well at least it’s too early for hurricanes, although a hard freeze this time of year will be quite devastating. I hoped to plant my spring garden within the next couple of days. However from the sound of it I better leave the starters in the greenhouse a couple weeks longer.

The stranger gave her a slight lopsided grin. Yessum, Miss, I do rightly agree with you on that account. His brow etched confusion while his stare jumped back and forth between her and Albert.

I own a flower and herbal shop in Palatka, but I cultivate most of my plants at my parent’s homestead on Palmetto Key, she explained. Rachel delicately waved her hand toward Albert. Mr. Lawrence is also of Palatka. He is a neighbor with ties to the island who offered me use of his coach and his protection. Our families have been closely associated for generations.

Albert ignored her input completely. You in lumber or ranching? he asked.

He let his gaze drift to the off loading of cattle from the rear section of the train. The Local hauled freight as well as passengers on its run. Those cows coming out the chute are mine. My brother sent over some young heifers from his place east of Gainesville. They’ll be put in a holding pen until they settled down a bit. Then we herd them down the road to their new pasture.

Albert let out a long whistle. Good thing you aren’t in lumber. That industry has just about stalled to a complete standstill hereon and else where in the south. He paused a bit as if about to deliver a great and wonderful oration. Best be believing though, you and your kind aren’t any safer than the saw mills. Hoover and his brethren intent on stealing grazing land from everyone so they can build airports for the military.

The rancher kicked the edge of his boot along the bottom railing. A shower of moist clay fell to the ground below. Doing okay for myself these days. No reason to see any change in that condition. He swiftly turned in Rachel’s direction and tapped his hat. You have a nice day.

She gave him one of her most brilliant smiles. You do the same.

He quickly left the porch and joined the ranch hands securing the cattle next to the tracks.

Rachel also unwilling to hear any more of Albert’s opinions went inside the depot. From the tiny lunch counter she purchased three fried chicken breasts for thirty cents. Once wrapped in wax paper and tied with string she had two of them placed in a separate brown bag along with a side of cornbread, generous slices of buttermilk pound cake and two plump freshly plucked navel oranges for ten cents more.

She did not intend to hand the food outright to Albert. Instead, she would discreetly place it in front of his compartment. Never admitting the need for or acceptance of her offer of lunch, however if it magically appeared, greedily take it without a hint of acknowledgment as to where it came from. Rachel hated the thought of any one going hungry within her radar even if it was Albert.

She slipped a five-dollar bill inside the bag knowing he was currently flat broke. Maybe one day he would get lucky. As much as Albert whined about the current national economic downfall, his decline had more to do with a heavy gambling habit intermingled with a taste for illegal booze and the company of any woman willing to put up with him for an evening.

Once he was on the island, he could fend for himself. The place crawled with pigs, squirrels, raccoons and other wild meats, not to mention the abundance offered by the gulf waters. Albert was not above sneaking over to her place in the dead of night and stealing a few gallons of diesel so he could run his house generator. Most annoying of this escapade was he was not frugal with his borrowed fuel supply. The Lawrence estate would be lit up like Christmas all for the sake of appearances.

Along with fuel, he helped himself to other valuables from the homes of his neighbors. Albert was careful in what he stole. He never took enough to cause too much of a ruckus. Mainly small items of jewelry, such as cuff links, silver of any kind, along with candlesticks, crystal and clothing. Occasionally made off with horse and mule tack and then sold the bounty to those who asked few if any questions.

Most of his thievery on the island was petty. However, according to Rachel’s housekeeper Jessie, Albert was far bolder in Palatka. Recently a crabber left his boat moored at one of the docks close to the Lawrence property. The next morning it was gone. No one that saw Albert pilot the boat toward Crescent City ever stepped forward. Accusing one of the so-called white gentry of such a crime quite possibly might have the outcome of the accuser found hanging from a tree late one night.

When Rachel stepped outside, the porch was barren as the train whistle screamed across the landscape. Just as expected, Albert felt no duty as her escort to wait for her. She mentally listed all of his shows of disrespect, thievery and other transgressions as she made her way back to the coach. She dropped the bagged lunch in front of his compartment and hurriedly shut herself behind her own door.

Stealing from his rich acquaintances was one thing, but taking some poor fisherman’s livelihood was another. With Jessie’s help, Rachel found the crabber of the stolen boat. If for no other reason than she could well afford to do so, promptly bought him a new boat with the warning not to dock this one anywhere near the Lawrence property. The crabber assured her he did not intend to leave this vessel unattended. The reason he moored there in the first place was that he ran out of gas and figured it would be safe in such an affluent neighborhood. This would have been true if not for Albert.

The spacious estates in the Palatka neighborhood faced the St. John ’s River, erected mostly by the last century’s lumber barons. Some of the properties still housed the current generation of that legacy, such as Rachel’s, albeit her short marriage to Douglas Elliot Tobias III. Others bought as second or third vacation homes when the lumber industry moved out, as was Albert’s. The property signed over to him by his father for no other reason than to keep him as far away from the rest of the Lawrence family as possible. Under Albert’s administration, the estate no longer lived up to the proud standards it once displayed. This evident in the shattered unrepaired windows, the use of bottled gas and wood when electric became available in the community. The exterior of the house remained in constant need of paint several times over as well as a lawn that hungrily begged for the care of a half decent gardener.

Albert’s allowance only extended so far with none remaining for structural upkeep or even the smallest of minimal needs of comfort for his new wife. Lily was a dirt-poor local girl, barely twenty when she married Albert as his third wife. The irony of this being, Lily actually thought she was moving up a notch socially and economically.

It was Rachel who hired Lily on in her flower and herbal shop. It was also Rachel who made sure she was fed on a regular basis and seasonally clothed.

She tried to temporarily push away any thoughts of Lily and her recently altered pretty face least she retrieve the prized stiletto from the bottom of her clutch, rush down the corridor and slit Albert’s throat this very second. Instead, Rachel absently scratched at the raw area that extended from the edge of her palm to the space between the first and middle fingers.

When she quietly opened her door, the bagged lunch in front of Albert’s compartment was gone. She leaned against the frame, stifled a laugh and hoped he enjoyed his last taste of inland food.

"So sorry, President and Mrs. Hoover, I’m afraid even if Mister Albert Lawrence were invited, he’d be unable to attend your dinner engagement. His presence is required elsewhere. Nor will he ever again use his young wife as a punching bag." This time she let the laugh escape. The sound completely muffled by the clanking train on the worn out tracks.

Chapter 3

Two long toots followed by three short whistles interrupted Rachel’s light doze when they passed through Rosewood. This was no longer a scheduled stop. The conductor was only paying his respects to the dead. Rosewood used to be a small thriving black community. Currently, it was nothing but a mass of tangled vines and other veracious vegetation. Rosewood, destroyed seven years ago during an especially brutal race riot. The area presently inhabited only by the ghosts of those needlessly massacred, if one believed in such things.

She closed the copy of Sylvia Taylor’s Guide to Medicinal Herbals. The wee morning trip to the train station and uncomfortable travel conditions began to show. She barely remembered what was on the last page before her short nap.

By the time the train pulled into the station in Cedar Key, Rachel had repacked all the books and periodicals she managed to scatter about the compartment. The small island was eight miles west of Rosewood and six miles north of her final destination. She opened the window and breathed in fresh salty air.

Cedar Key and the smaller barrier islands scattered off its shores still reeled from the destruction of two major hurricanes, one that occurred in 1926 and the latest in 1928. Less than ninety years ago, before the Civil War, it was a main gulf shipping port with a thriving community. This island with a land mass of only two square miles, along with its surrounding sister islands during the last century supported a large pencil factory, sawmills, and commercial fishing. It was during the reconstruction period after the war and backed by private money commerce rapidly moved six miles south onto Palmetto Key, also surrounded by a smatter of smaller protective islands.

The storm of 28’ two years ago slammed in with a tidal surge completely obliterating most of the island as well as taking several lives. Cedar Key, mostly destroyed gave up and stepped back in time. It was nothing more than a primitive fishing village with a population of less than three hundred strictly white inhabitants. Rumors already circulated as to the twice-weekly train service to the island scheduled halted in the very near future.

Still, the Key held a certain charm. It attracted a few curious tourists seeking to get a way from it all, as well as the avid sports anglers and artists who frequented the one remaining bed and breakfast on Main Street.

Albert’s voice drifted in from the open window. He spewed his tirade on another victim. Obvious from his loud tone, he indulged in quite a bit of illegal whiskey with his early lunch.

I’ll be golfing with Al Smith in Coral Gables next month. Once Hoover’s days are over, if I have any thing do about it, Al will be in the White House this time. Now he’s the man to get this country back in shape. Just look what he did while he was Governor of New York, he slurred.

Rachel scoffed and mumbled under her breath. Sure you and Al are golfing buddies. He golfs, you carry his clubs.

Considering my affiliation with the other party, I was invited to a dinner at the White House hosted by the Hoovers coming on soon, Albert droned. The Lawrence family, of which I am proudly one, is socially quite well acquainted with those on the Hill even if some of our political beliefs differ. He let out a light