It was cool night in the Summerlin desert, off in the distance you could hear the howling of wolves as the moon lit the desert surface. I had been waiting on the shipment of liquor to meet me so I could take it back to the strip and unload it to the various casino's awaiting their orders. While standing there in my $1,000 fitted suit leaning up against my brand new 1932 Rolls Royce Phantom as cigarette smoke rolled past my face following the breeze with fellow wise guys at my back I got to thinking about my first liquor run when I first got to Nevada. It was on this same stretch of road here in Summerlin a few miles away, just south of Las Vegas.

The year was 1923 when I got to Vegas. Coming in with the reputation I carried I did every dirty job needed. I sold dope on the streets, killed anyone who needed to go, and then there was my first liquor night.

Suddenly headlights appeared off in the distance. I pulled my fathers old antique rustic steel plated pocket watch to check time. As the trucks pulled up and the dust followed, I tossed my cigarette. Moments after the trucks pulled up a old timer fella hopped out the first truck with his blue overalls on and a corncob pipe hanging from his mouth surrounded by a white mountain man beard. He walked over extending his hand. As I shook the old mans callused hand he mentioned his name was Ray Yost with this deep southern accent. After our introductions Rays men and mine were reloading the liquor from Rays trucks to mine.

Then out of no where this ox of a fella came from the rear of Rays truck carrying more crates than the others. I certainly thought to myself man I hope my colt 1911 45. can put this big guy down if shit goes sour. Moments went by and Ray joined his guys in unloading and reloading the liquor. As I watched them I got back to thinking about my first night on one of these pickups.

Hell I used to be one of these young bucks just reaching for crumbs to make something of myself. I just wish my first night went this smoothly. Night I'll never forget. I remember I was hired help for a family during the war time where it was all out war over control of booze along the Las Vegas Strip. That night I was carrying crates to our truck when out of no where a car raced up with men hanging from the sides just unloading their Thompson sub machine guns at everything and everybody. I dropped the crate and quickly dove behind the truck. Listening to the bullets ping off of the vehicles surely had me scared shitless.

Just then old man Ray walked up to me saying that they was loading yo the last bit if crates. "Hell that was fast" I said only getting a "yep" from the old man. "Let me grab you your bag" I told the old man as I walked to the trunk of my phantom and opened it up reaching for the bag next to my very  Bar rifle and the trench sweeper sawed off double barrel 12 gauge. Seeing them two there gave me a sense of comfort after that first time. I handed Ray his bag and without even checking it he got into his truck and him and his men drove off. I waited till their trucks were about out if sight then my men and I left.

Rolling through the darkness of the desert I had my shipment in the trucks behind me and I was steadily cruising in the Rolls Royce and got back to thinking of that night.

The guys with Thompson's just kept firing. It was like they had endless rounds. My buddy Anthony Cuzzeto crawled out of the truck with his old trusted 30/30 lever action rifle and back then all I had was a mk4 38. revolver I pulled from my leather holster so I thought I'm surely going to die tonight but someone is coming with me. Anthony and I looked at one another and could tell we both was sure we was dying tonight.  We waited till they stopped unloading and I snuck a peak counting 4 shooters. I signaled to Anthony telling him there was 4 guys and we both had a understanding of only way we're making it is shooting our way out.

Burst of the Thompson's came to halt besides dead checks so I looked at Anthony and knew we had to take the opportunity. We both came from cover and unloading every bullet we had. We did manage to drop two out of four guys but we was still out gunned. I luckily had speed loaders in my jacket and was reloaded quickly but, Anthony kept dropping his rounds into the darkness of the desert surface.

The sound of the Thompson's drowned out the sound of everything and as the shooters shot up the truck we was behind it only got louder. It was a distinct sound I will never forget.

Cruising the road to the strip I seen two sets of headlights blocking the road ahead and knew right away it was a check point. Coming to a stop, Officer Jack Clayton approached my Phantom bending down looking in at me then to the trucks and back to me with a bullshit grin. I pulled a envelope from inside my suit and handed it to him with a chilling grin of my own thinking to myself as I looked at him take it "I own you." Jack took his bribe and motioned his cars to clear the road and we was back to cruising. Traveling down the road we had been coming up on the place where my first liquor night was and i got back to thinking about that night.

As Anthony was struggling to reload out of fear I was surprisingly calm mannered during the sight of sure death. As the burst from the thompsons continued to go off I suddenly heard one of the guns stopped shooting. Without hesitation I took my chance and came uncovered to find the shooter fighting with a jammed thompson. I shot at him four out if my 6 rounds. Not sure how many times I hit him but I know he dropped. Instantly the last shooter redirected his fire towards me. As I'm in cover, bullets pinging off the truck my way i looked to Anthony in hopes he would see his chance but he had froze up from fear. I remember thinking to myself "fuck I'm dead" I had almost accepted death as the thompson grew closer.

So I quickly crawled to Anthony putting my revolver into my holster and ripped the 30/30 from his locked grip that he jammed up trying to load. Then quietness hit, the shooter was reloading and I knew I had to do something. I came from behind the truck using the empty rifle as a bat hitting the guy as hard at I could before he could mange to reload. He fell unconscious and remembering I had 2 rounds left in my revolver I calmly pulled it from the holster with a cold chilling straight face and put my last two into the would be killers head. The trucks were just fucked and riddled with bullet holes so I went back to Anthony who was just frozen from fear of near death and helped him to the shooters 1920's Cadillac and made our way out of there. That was one hell of a night, a night I thought I wasn't making it home.

Seeing the Vegas Strips lights in the distance from the desert was a sight in its self. It brought a smile to my face thinking back to my first liquor night to now being able to hand a cop an envelope and keep strolling my way to Las Vegas. Knowing I've come this far in this life from being hired help to a respected gentlemen in this business was a great feeling. How times have changed.