Chapter 21: The Reluctant Candidate

In later years we referred to it as "The Time Pa Didn't Run For Sheriff." After the way Pa handled things when Jesse Farmer kidnapped Samantha, a few the churchgoers decided Pa would make a great sheriff. Rubin Hankins, the old sheriff was corrupt in every sense of the word. Criminal charges were brought against him for malfeasance in office and grand theft because of county tax money he spent on himself.

In a desperate move to hide his own chicanery, the wily district attorney leaked news of the pending charges against the sheriff. Rube disappeared into the night, never to be heard from again. One of his deputies stepped in and tried to keep business as usual.

Woodman County was almost evenly split between the Republicans and the Democrats. Of course the Democrats wanted a Democrat appointed to fill out the unexpired term and the Republicans wanted one of their own. Mister Cossinger wanted Hank appointed to the remaining two years as a stepping-stone into politics.

On the other hand Ed Ballinger, a local lawyer ran the local Republican machine wanted his son appointed to help him get his start in politics. Neither side thought much about what the people wanted.

While both parties were arguing and bickering, Brother Moore started a campaign to make Pa a write in candidate. He contacted the other churches in the area and quietly suggested Walter Hansen would make a great sheriff. He was big, strong, could take care of himself and never looked for a fight.

To top it all off he was honest. Also he was a regular churchgoer. The problem was, no one ever asked Pa if he wanted to be sheriff, the local ministers got busy and talked up his candidacy. Our family just went on with the business of keeping our heads above water and were unaware of the political turmoil going on around us.

In fact, the first Pa even heard about it was when the biggest bootlegger in Western Oklahoma confronted us as we were eating dinner in the Bid A Wee Cafe. Herm Larkin was a fat man. He stood about five feet ten inches tall and weighed close to two hundred fifty pounds. His two bodyguards looked big tough enough to handle anybody who got in their way.

Larkin waddled up to our table flanked by his bodyguards. He glared down at Pa and said, "Withdraw from the race now and nobody will get hurt."

"What are you talking about?" Pa asked in surprise, "I ain't going to run in any race."

He started to take another bite of his steak and the bootlegger slapped the fork out of his hand. Slowly Pa looked up at the men and said in a low, quiet voice, "You and those two peckerwoods with you get away from us and don't bother us any more. This is the only warning I'll give you."

"Please leave us now," Ma told him in a stern voice. "You are interrupting our meal."

"Get 'em, boys," Larkin ordered his two bodyguards.

I jumped up from the booth and Pa slid away from Ma and came out of our booth. Ma pushed the table away from her, stood and grabbed her meatloaf plate up and slammed the fat bootlegger in the face with it.

He stood there in shock, astonished anybody would dare do such a thing. Then Ma poured a cup of hot coffee over his head and grabbed up her purse. It had two bottles of Sloan's Liniment in it. She swung it hard sidewise and struck the man's temple. He fell to the floor in a sodden heap.

I went at the bodyguard who was coming at me and treated him as if we were in a wrestling match. I grabbed his right arm with my right hand and pulled myself toward him. I never hesitated as I continued on around behind him. Before he could react I threw a three quarter nelson on him, thought for a split second and changed it to a full nelson. What the heck, there wasn't any referee to tell me my hold was illegal. I lifted him off the floor and dropped down and back.

If you do the move wrong you can kill a person. I didn't have any desire to kill him, I merely wanted to disable him. As we hit the floor I twisted the both of us over till he was face down on the floor and I was on top. I spread my legs wide for leverage, let go of his neck and slammed hard on the back of his head with the heel of my hand. His forehead hit the floor with a loud "thunk!" and he was out for the count and then some.

Pa had lost his temper and hit his opponent as hard as he could. He flattened the man's nose. As one of the man's hands flew up in the air, pa took it in an arm lock and dislocated his opponent's shoulder. I watched from the floor as he slammed against the joint of the man's right elbow. Then Pa stepped back and smashed him on the tip of the chin. He fell to the floor. Then Pa and I dragged the two bodyguards outside and dropped them on the sidewalk.

As we returned to our booth, Ma poured ice water on the messy and unconscious bootlegger. He spluttered and unsteadily rose to his feet, holding a hand to his injured head. "Where's my men?" He looked wildly around and didn't see them.

Pa walked up to him and said, "I will give you just one chance to answer, then you get hurt. Who are you and what is this all about?"

"Where's my men?" Larkin asked again.

"My boy and I hurt them." Pa cuffed him alongside the head hard enough to make me wince. I knew how strong Pa really was.

"You can't do that! They guard me!" Larkin exclaimed.

Pa cuffed him again; "Well they didn't do a very good job, now, did they? If I hit you again, you're not even going to be able to feel it till you wake up, I promise. What is this all about?"

"We don't want you runnin' for sheriff. We was tryin' to scare you off." The man kept looking around for his bodyguards. It finally dawned on him he truly was all-alone. He grabbed a small revolver from a shoulder holster under his suit coat.

I yelled and dove for the gun hand. Before I could reach it Pa had grabbed the man in and one handed wrist hold and applied pressure. When I collided with him, Larkin screamed. He fell and the wrist Pa was holding couldn't follow so it broke his arm at the elbow. He screamed and passed out.

"I didn't know you knew how to wrestle so well, Pa."

"I learned it in the army, son." He was slowly calming down.

"Walter, we must find out what is going on here. You didn't decide to run for sheriff and not tell me, did you?" She stared hard at him.

"Hon. I am as much in the dark as you are." He looked at Ma and said, "Let's find out how much damage we did. This fat slug on the floor is going to pay for it all, either in money or I'll take it out of his hide."

Brother Moore came in the front door. He hurried up to us and looked at the man on the floor. I picked up the small revolver from where it had fallen to the floor and stuck it in my hip pocket as Brother Moore came rushing up. "Oh my! I see you have kicked off your campaign with a flourish! I planned to come out to see you today. But since you are here in town I've been saved a trip."

"Do you know what in tunkett is goin' on here?" Pa looked down at the fallen Herm Larkin. "This pile of lard tried to have his two bully boys beat up on me and my wife and son. Now what is goin' on here?"

"Dear, you are dropping your gees again," Ma interrupted. She was bound and determined Pa and I talked right, no matter what else was happening.

"Well," Brother Moore began, "A few of us have been talking about how we didn't want another crooked politician doing the job of sheriff. We wanted an honest, church going Christian, someone who was not afraid to stand against the bad element in the county."

"Well why didn't someone come and ask me if I wanted the job or not?" Pa looked started to get mad.

"I planned to come out this afternoon. Then, when I heard you were in town I did my best to find you and ask you to be our candidate for sheriff. It looks like the other side was looking for you also. We have a rough crowd in this county who won't go willingly."

Pa looked at him and said, "I ought to tell you no right off. But him and his two friends threatened me and my family. I won't stand for it."

Pa looked at Ma and she shrugged her shoulders. "Well if enough people are fool enough to vote for me I'll give it a shot. But I won't make any speeches or kiss any babies. And my farm comes first. If folks want me so bad, I'll give it a shot. But remember, I am a farmer and not a sheriff."

He nodded his head once in agreement with himself and bent over the barely starting to stir bootlegger. He asked the man, "What pocket you keep your money in?"

He let out a whimper and said, "I can't reach my roll, my arm hurts."

"Where is it? I'll get it out. You're going to pay for the damage you caused. Now I either take it out of your wallet or your hide, your choice."

"My roll's in my right front pocket," he whimpered.

Pa reached in the man's pocket and pulled out a big roll of bills. "Holy smoke!" I exclaimed, "We're in the wrong business, Pa. Whatever business these guys are in pays better than farming."