The Southern Liver Regulators: A Novelette and Short Stories

By RL Martin

"The Southern Liver Regulators" is a novelette about a saloon owner in early Tacoma, Washington Territory, who finds himself faced with a moral dilemma regarding the "Chinese menace." The vigilantes who call themselves the Southern Liver Regulators are at the heart of his dilemma.

"The Watered Land" A kind man named Shannon O’Brian lends a hand to a new neighbor who is trying to dig an outhouse in rural Oklahoma in the 1920s. But there’s more to the digging than O’Brian knows. First-place winner Quincy Writer’s Guild.
"Safe Passage" A preacher’s kid reluctantly rides to church with his father one Sunday during a heavy thunderstorm. Will his resistance end in tragedy?

"Black Drink Journey" A lonely thirteen-year-old boy blames himself for a fire that burned down his grandparents’ house. He reads about a native American rite of passage called the Black Drink Journey and decides to undertake it himself in hopes of redemption and growth.

"Demolition Day" An elderly man tries to stop workers from tearing down the house where he had raised his family. They ignore him and dust flies into his face. Soon he finds himself shrinking into dust himself and is carried away by the wind. When he settles into the scalp of another person, he experiences their innermost thoughts and feelings. He goes from person to person, experiencing them as they are. This story gives new meaning to the saying “If I were you.”
"A Winner Every Time" A small-case Seattle lawyer wins the lottery. But a tragic event leads him to realize that he was already won the lottery when his family and friends visit him in the hospital, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Tinebenga Eats Bitter " An indigenous man from the Paiwan tribe of Taiwan interviews for a job with a Han Chinese company in the 1970s. Some of his answers to their questions are just what he wants to say. The others are what he actually says.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RL Martin
• Release date: Jan 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463228753

RL Martin

– MA in English Composition– Eight years in Asia as an English teacher, English correspondent, and newspaper editor– Ten years as a community college English Instructor– Many years as a tree-hugging bleeding-heart liberal– Catholic convert 2013 from protestant background–still a bleeding heart but focused on the sacred heart of Jesus

Book preview

The Southern Liver Regulators

A Novelette and several Short Stories

Copyright 2019 RL Martin

Published by RL Martin at Smashwords

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Table of Contents

The Southern Liver Regulators In the sleepy Railroad Saloon in 1883, a white vigilante gang is formed to make life so miserable for the Chinese that they'll finally leave Tacoma, WA like they've been told. But their plans change when a Shanghaiing sailor comes to town.

The Watered Land A kind man named Shannon O’Brian lends a hand to a new neighbor who is trying to dig an outhouse in rural Oklahoma in the 1920s. But there’s more to the digging than O’Brian knows. First-place winner Quincy Writer’s Guild.

Safe Passage A preacher’s kid reluctantly rides to church with his father one Sunday during a heavy thunderstorm. Will his resistance end in tragedy?

Black Drink Journey A lonely thirteen-year-old boy blames himself for a fire that burned down his grandparents’ house. He reads about a native American rite of passage called the Black Drink Journey and decides to undertake it himself in hopes of redemption and growth.

Demolition Day An elderly man tries to stop workers from tearing down the house where he had raised his family. They ignore him and dust flies into his face. Soon he finds himself transformed into dust himself. When he settles into the scalp of another person, he experiences their innermost thoughts and feelings. This story gives new meaning to the saying If I were you.

A Winner Every Time A small-case Seattle lawyer wins the lottery. But a tragic event leads him to realize that he had already won the lottery when it comes to family and friends.

Tinebenga Eats Bitter An indigenous man from the Paiwan tribe of Taiwan interviews for a job with a Han Chinese company in the 1970s. Some of his answers to their questions are what he wants to say. The others are what he actually says.

The Southern Liver Regulators

I.

There were five men at the Railroad Saloon in Tacoma, Washington Territory that night in November of 1882 when the Southern Liver Regulators were formed: John Rauch, the saloon’s proprietor; E.G. Ross, J.G. Albright, Jimmy Ayers, and John Gropper. Except for the proprietor, who was busy wiping down the bar and taking inventory of his liquor, the men were huddled around a roughly hewn wooden table, drinking beer that Rauch himself had brewed and smoking cigars in the dim room, which was lit by three or four candles and a raging fire in the fireplace.

Mr. Rauch expected no more customers that night for at least two reasons. The rain was particularly heavy and was turning Pacific avenue into mud. Further, it was fairly well known that this same group of ruffians took over the bar on Wednesday nights when many Tacomans attended church. The four of them met together on Wednesdays, one could say religiously, because of the loyalty they felt to each other. They were all relatively new to the Pacific Northwest, hated the weather, and originated from various parts of the south, mainly Texas and Louisiana.

When these four southern gentlemen got together, they liked to reminisce about the conquests they had made in their younger days. But when the alcohol reached their brains, it seemed to remind them that they were now in their forties and unhappily married—except for Ayers who had left his wife in Houston eight years earlier. They tended to get mean when they drank, so Rauch was happy that they were still talking quietly, but he checked to make sure his revolver was handy and loaded and then went to the back to get something.

’Nother beer, Rauch, Ayers said as he slammed down an empty glass on the small table. You see, the problem with cattle is land, he was saying. Need too much damn land for em. And nowadays the guvment taking up all the public lands and saying that just cause we got barbed wire around it don’t make it ours. Hell, ain’t nobody ever gonna use that 300 acres of piss-poor pasture other than us for nothin.

Times are changin’ Ayers, J.G. Albright interjected. You’re getting too old to be riding around chasing cattle all day. I’m telling you, real estate is where it’s at. Don’t matter if nobody’s ever gonna use them 300 acres. People are coming out West now, and everybody wants their own piece of land, don’t matter if it’s good or bad. They just want their own piece a dirt.

Takes money, Albright. Land game takes money, something none of you salt lickers has got, Ayers said as he looked around for the barkeep. Where the hell’s that Rauch?

E.G. Ross said, You want money, I tell you what the next big thing is we oughtta all get into is…

Not another hairbrained scheme of yourn, Ross. I don’t even want to hear it. Ayers said.

This ain’t no hair-brain scheme. I read this here in the newspapers yesterdee, Ross said.

Wait, you read? Ayers retorted, chuckling to himself.

Yeah I read, unlike you, air-brain Ayers. The paper says they’re gonna start using petroleum instead of coal in steam engines. Says they already started doing it down in San Francisco on the ferry boats. Says it’s even cheaper than coal, like sixty cents on the dollar cheaper.

Gropper who had been characteristically quiet that night interjected, Ain’t no petroleum up here. If you wanted to get in that business you should a done it when you was still in Dallas. Ain’t no oil up here.

Rauch finally appeared at the table with Ayers’ beer. Ya’ll looking to make some money, you oughtta buy some of that land they’re selling down the Puyallup way and grow hops on it. He said directly to Ayers, I need hops to make this elixir you’re so fond of here.

I ain’t no farmer! Ayers said irritated, examining the new glass of beer in the candlelight.

Suit yourself, Rauch said taking a couple of empty glasses off the table. But I tell you who’s going to be growing hops before too long. The Chinese. They’re getting into everything.

Rauch regretted opening his big mouth even as the words were coming out. He hadn’t wanted any trouble that night, and to his chagrin, he was the one who had steered the conversation toward the Chinese problem.

Idiot, he said to himself as he walked back behind the bar. He wiped the glasses dry with a dirty rag and put them back on the rack.

Rauch is right, E.G. Ross said suddenly animated. He slammed his fist on the table. Them coolies keep on comin in here to Washington Territory like there ain’t already a law against it. I bet there’s a thousand of ‘em here in Tacoma. Can’t take a piss without hittin’ a Mongolian.

Ayers laughed, I’m pretty sure when I took a piss yesterday, one of ‘em started growing right up out of the dirt. The four men laughed. Hey, maybe I could raise Mongols! That’s it, Rauch. I’ll be a Mongol farmer! Rauch rolled his eyes and stuck his head in a newspaper behind he bar.

Albright didn’t laugh. The subject seemed more serious to him. That’s what I was going to say about the land, too. The coolies is comin in and you can bet your ass they’ll be buying all the land. The railroads are lettin em build down there on their easements. With nobody watching the Canadian border, we’ll be flooded with em and pretty soon, they’ll own the whole place, New Tacoma and Tacoma City both. Then they’ll cede it all over to their emperor and Washington territory will become Chinese territory. Mark my words, boys. Mark my words!

Ross responded, I was down around Little Canton the other day. I counted at least thirteen houses down there now, and I bet you ever one of them has ten or twelve coolies in it. And they’re dumping all their dirty wash water and shit right into the Puget Sound.

Did you see the tunnels? Albright asked, his voice turning more somber.

Tunnels? They all said together.

"Yeah. Tunnels. You know, holes? They’re digging tunnels all over the place. I reckon there’s tunnels under ever one of them houses you seen. They put