Free The Day Steam Died by Dick Brown Page A

from his favorite Junior Johnson NASCAR cups and ate lunch together every day at the office.
    Warehouse workers moved quickly in the cold winter wind to load boxcars. They looked like a line of ants trailing from the warehouse into the boxcar and back with a load teetering on the front end of forklifts.
    “Watch what you’re doing, you idiot,” Ronnie shouted at an operator when the top box slid off his forklift that was piled too high. “You wanna keep that job? Then you better not let that happen again. If those cigarettes are damaged and have to be pulled, your paycheck will have a big hole in it this week.” His harsh comments rolled off the backs of the Mexicans who couldn’t understand a word he said.
    “He’s so mean,” Ann said to Jerry as they watched the driver scramble to pick up the ripped-open boxes that had scattered across the floor. “I don’t know how those people put up with him. I knew I didn’t like him when I met him on my first day here.”
    “It’s better than the work they can get back home,” Jerry said.
    Ann shook her head. “How many cars today?” She always asked these kinds of questions about the business and played it as if she were just interested in the warehouse’s workings as an employee, but she filed every piece of information she could in her memory for later use against Sam Johnson. “Mr. Johnson seems to be adding another one almost every week now.”
    “Yeah, I guess business is really good,” Jerry said. “He’s pushing to ship a million cases a week from here. I’m not sure the warehouse guys can handle an order that big.”
    “They’re stretched pretty thin. If he is seriously considering—”
    “Enough shop talk,” Jerry broke in. “When are you going to give up and go to a movie with me? It’s Friday and you don’t have to worry about a babysitter. West Side Story has been playing at the Capitol all week and will probably be gone next week. I know you like musicals, so how about it?”
    Ann had kept busy, not letting Jerry or anyone get too close. She surprised herself by wanting to say yes to the first guy she felt comfortable with since Rick.
    “Well, I guess so,” she teased. “Why don’t you pick me up around seven?”
    “I think your gentleman friend is at the door. Why don’t you invite him in for a few minutes? I’d like to meet him and let him meet little Ricky.”
    It was a cold November day. A clear night brought the temperature down after sundown like a falling rock. Jerry was dressed like an Eskimo, wearing a heavy coat with a fur trimmed hood and gloves. He stamped his boots to shake off a light dusting of snow that fell during the day before going inside.
    “Mom, I want you to meet Jerry Blackmon. He’s the brakeman on the box cars from the main line to the loading dock at the warehouse. My dad is in the kitchen eating supper with little Ricky. You can meet him later.”
    Jerry removed his heavy gloves before shaking hands with Alice. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Nestlebaum. You have quite a daughter here. She already knows more about running that warehouse than Marie ever did.”
    “Why, thank you.” Alice gave him a good look up and down and smiled. “I’m glad to finally get to meet you. And this is my grandson, little Ricky.”
    Ricky wandered into the room from the kitchen but kept behind Alice.
    “Hello, little man.” Jerry crouched to get at little Ricky’s eye level. “What a big boy you are.”
    “Can you say hello to Mr. Jerry?” Alice said. “He’s a friend of your momma.”
    “Hello, Mr. Jerry.” Ricky ducked his head and ran back to the kitchen.
    Alice watched Ricky go with a smile on her face. “Jerry, do you like children?”
    “Yes ma’am, I love children. Hope to have a house full someday.”
    “That’s wonderful. Ann tells me you moved in with your mother after your military service. That is a rare quality in a young man these days. You’ll make a fine husband for some lucky young