A fictional story by Jeannette Holland Austin
Evan Schwartz Delivers His Ale
Evan felt uneasy as he repacked his wagon with the ale and reined the old nag down the bumpy road.
As he drew near the city, guards stopped him along the road’s edge.
“What is in the wagon?” The British soldiers asked.
“Ale.”
“How many kegs?”
“Four.”
“Where are you delivering them?”
“To Dilliard’s Tavern.”
One of the soldiers tasted the ale. “It’s a fine taste,” he said. Where did you get it?”
“I distilled it myself, sir.”
“Where?”
“Brennerei.”
“Brennerei? Where is that?”
Evan pointed down the road. “It is a little farm outside of town,” one of the soldiers affirmed. “Let him deliver the ale.”
As Evan rode on, he passed into an unfamiliar environment. The city was littered with soldiers carrying rifles and swords, and trash was scattered in the streets. But he found the narrow alley that led behind the tavern. He felt strangely lonely as he carried a keg inside the tavern and beheld a group of soldiers laughing as they consumed their liquor. His eyes searched hopefully for Dillard’s familiar face. But something was different. Dillion’s face was depressed with deep, penetrating wrinkles, and his clothing was torn and disheveled.
“I am back at work, ready to supply the ale,” he told Dillard.”
“That is well for you, my friend, but the British soldiers pay very little for their binges.”
“I understand the occupation has harmed your business, for which I am truly sorry,” Evan responded while glancing about the tavern. Everything was the same, except an unswept floor, and no barrels of ale were on the shelf. “My goods were inspected and tasted by the soldiers when I came into town. They expressed approval of its quality.”
“I can pay very little,” Dillard answered.
“If you will accept delivery, I will accept whatever you can pay,” Evan assured him. “I just want to return to my old way of doing things.”
Evan was in a depressed state of mind when he left the tavern. He, too, was suffering from the occupation, but he decided to forebear.
In the weeks and months that followed, Evan continued to deliver the ale until Dillion waited in the alley to warn him of rumors that the soldiers suspected Evan of using escaped prisoners for distilling.
“The soldiers are inside my tavern. Plan to follow you back to Brennerei.”
Evan’s heart sank. He jumped back onto the wagon and led the nag into a full gallop toward Brennerei.
to be continued