Chapter 17: The Politician

It was Seven-thirty in the evening. Harley Duran tried to hide his nervousness as he stood in front of a packed Baptist church and waited for the meeting to begin. His mind wandered, as he stood quiet and looked out over the congregation. The banker was missing. He hadn't been home or at the bank. Harley tried to puzzle out where the fat little toad could be.

Every day, there were too many other, more pressing things demanded his attention. He resented the time this meeting had taken away from what he considered his "needful duties." I'll be asked to kiss some babies next, he thought to himself.

Brother Moore stood to one side with the pastor of the Woodman Baptist Church and looked out over the congregation. He smiled and hoped Harley Duran would make a good and lasting impression on the people who had come especially to hear him speak.

The usual Wednesday evening turn out was perhaps fifteen or twenty. The crowd this particular evening numbered over one hundred. "Oh my," he whispered to himself.

Brother Moore was again struck with the way Harley Duran seemed to be a magnet, the way he drew people to him. He smiled, when he saw the big man was so ill at ease. Harley was a man of many opposites.

"Uh, good evening, as most of you all know, I am Harley Duran your new chief of police and sort of acting sheriff."

He smiled, looked out over the crowd, shuffled his feet and continued, "If you want to know the truth, I think I'd rather charge a bull wearing a red shirt than speechify like this. I meant I'd be wearing the red shirt, not the bull."

"Well, from where I sit, both you and the bull probably wear the same size shirt," came a lazy drawl from the back of the church. Everybody laughed. Harley laughed with them and relaxed.

"Look, I know some of you here are worried I might turn out to be like the bunch who has made people miserable in these parts for quite some time now. I ain't ... er; I'm not anything like a Beaudine. I am a plain old husband and I got me a wife and little girl who mean more to me than anything else. I figure just about all the men in here feel the same." He congratulated himself because he sounded "like a city boy" when he spoke.

"But how do we know you aren't just another Lester Beaudine? I hear you killed some folks, including ol' Lester his own self. And your right hand man is known for his loose ways with the females and just clubbed two men to death. We need reassurances."

In a low, clear voice, Harley looked out over the dimly lighted audience and asked, "Would you come up here, sir?"

"Why?" the voice asked nervously. "Why you want me up there?"

"Are you a family man?" Harley asked.

"Well, yes I am. So what?" the man asked.

"Well, I want to offer you a job. You see I have to hire more policemen, sheriff's deputies and guards for the county jail and the county farm. You sound like the kind of man I want to hire. Will you take a job?" He paused and amended, "If you need a job, will you take a job as a lawman here? The pay isn't too great, but it is honest work." He smiled in the direction of the voice.

"I got a job, but thanks," the man answered. "I guess you're all right."

"Thank you," Harley answered. "The days of using the police department and the sheriff's office to steal the public blind is a thing of the past. I have worked and earned everything I have. He winced at the "little lie" and thought of the money he had taken from the railroad bull's property.

He continued, "This is why I'm not rich. My riches are at home waiting for me. I got me a family and an ugly dog; this all it takes to make me happy. It's the kind of man I am."

He paused and looked out over the sea of faces. "Now it was brought up how Leroy Jones, my good friend, Leroy Jones is not a very respectable man. By the same way you judge him, I'm not all very respectable either. But I will tell you this, so hear what I say well, If Leroy Jones is not good enough for you, I damn well ain't either.

Leroy just recently killed two men who were bent on raping my wife and my little daughter who is just getting ready to turn eight years old next month. I owe Leroy Jones the lives of my wife and my daughter.

If he would have done the same for you, would you look down on him and call him a killer? I sure as hell don't think so." Brother Moore winced at Harley's language but noticed the number of heads nodding their agreement.

Harley's face turned hard. "If Leroy isn't good enough for you, neither am I. You take us both or get rid of us both. You don't want me, then me and my wife and daughter and dog are gone tomorrow. I'll ask Brother Moore to find a buyer for the house we just bought and forward the money to me elsewhere. You folks decide, I'm going home." He turned and walked out of the church. The wall of silence seemed almost a tangible thing.

Harley had time to open the door of his Packard, when Deacon Walter Burch came running up to him. "Hold on there, Chief Duran. The man who was acting so mouthy was one of Beaudine's old deputies trying to start trouble. We want you. We feel you are an asset to our community. As for Leroy Jones, he at least comes to church. Not one of that Beaudine crowd ever did that. Please come back in. I know we want you over at our church."

"Okay," Harley answered him, "But I got the distinct feeling I wasn't wanted. I want to plant roots and grow in a community of friends. I've had enough of the other." He showed his reluctance as he followed the old man back into the church. As he walked in somebody began clapping, then someone else. Finally the whole audience began to applaud and cheer their new chief of police and acting sheriff.

Brother Moore came toward him, arms outstretched. He hugged the big man and said, "Please be patient with us, Brother Duran. You are just too big to take all at once. This town needs you and I believe in my heart of hearts you need this town as well." Harley hugged the man back and nodded, tears of emotion glistened in his eyes. The Baptist preacher grabbed his hand and shook it.

Harley held up his hands and there was almost instant silence. "I apologize for getting muley there for a minute. I'm not a speech maker. So if anybody's got any questions, why don't you just ask them? Maybe this way we'll all get to know each other."

"What about the upcoming elections? Are you going to run for office?" A voice from the front row asked. A heavyset man had his hand in the air.

"Yes, I intend to run for the office of sheriff. If I am elected, I intend to split the county work farm off from the sheriff's direct control and make it a separate department. It should be run as a separate department under the direct control a manager with oversight by the county commissioners." (There, he was able to use "oversight" in a sentence twice.)

Harley paused, a moment then continued, "The sheriff is supposed to catch the criminals and put them in jail to await trial. Once they have been found guilty or turned loose, it is up to the court to decide what happens next. We need to get more modern and do things cheaper. Since men with a badge no longer guard shipments of shine, we need fewer deputies and police.

"By the way, I intend to hire a colored man to patrol the Sand Bar area. He will wear a police uniform and he will keep the peace down there. A white man is of no use in that part of the county. So I figure we need a man who lives there and is answerable to me personally will be able to do a better job. Any objections?"

"A fat woman about forty called from the third row, "Will I be safe? I wouldn't want one of them to..." her voice trailed off.

"Well, ma'am, unless you planned to go to a party down there, I'd say you would be safe." Harley slipped in what could be a hot topic. "I will authorize him to carry a gun while on duty."

People laughed and another man said, "Well, Martha, if you want to be safe you better not go down there on Saturday night." This brought more laughter. The red faced woman slouched down in her seat and wished she had kept her mouth shut.

Then the questions came faster and were answered. Most of the questions were pleas for reassurance Harley Duran was not another thief, but a good man. At ten o'clock he walked back out the door and headed straight home. Behind him he left a group of people who were satisfied they had a vast improvement over the late law enforcement. A great load had been taken off of their backs.

"Hey, Harley." He heard Leroy's voice call again, "Harley, wait up we need to get over to the police station. Milt's there with a prisoner and he seems to be pretty upset over the whole thing. I was over at your house waiting for you to come home and he called on the telephone asking for you."

"Let's go, then," Harley answered and hurried over to his newly acquired Packard. He pulled out away from the curb, Leroy in the Model A was right behind.

Milt looked upset, rather than angry, as he stood by the door and waited for them to enter. A young, scrawny looking specimen in raggedy none too clean clothing sat on a chair inside. He looked as if he were half starved. His haunted, eyes looked up at Harley as if Harley was there specifically to abuse him. "Well, Milt," Harley asked, "Just who is this desperado and what great crimes did he commit you need my attention right now?" He smiled down at the young man.

"Hell, Harley, if it was just plain old crime, I'd not be bothering you. But near as I can tell, the only thing this young man is guilty of is going hungry. This is just so much nonsense." Milt seemed more angry with Harley than at the prisoner.

"Well, tell me what happened. Maybe we can figure out a way to make everyone happy. In the meantime, why don't you take those things," he motioned to the handcuffs, "off this man and let's figure out what to do."

Milt quickly removed the offending handcuffs and returned them to the big snap hook on his belt. "Sorry, son, I hated to do this," he apologized to the young man who nodded abruptly.

"Okay, let's start at the beginning and you tell me why you so reluctantly arrested this boy." Harley had no expression on his face as he waited for the story to be told. The prisoner shifted uncomfortably on the hard seat.

"Well, Harley, Old man Summers told me to arrest the kid here for stealing vegetables out of his garden. Summers old hound bit him and held him until Summers went out and put a gun on him. He threatened to kill him if he moved a hair. I believe he would have, too."

Harley held up a hand and said, "Wait." He felt a queasiness gnawing at his stomach. His mouth went dry and he asked, "Is this Summers' place sort of east of town, just a short ways from the railroad tracks?" He already knew the answer.

"Why, yes it is." a surprised Milt exclaimed. "How did you know?"

"Oh, I drove by there a couple of times when I was scouting things out." He remembered the night he hurt the old hound who protected his master's property. He was sorry all over again for what he had done to the loyal old dog.

"Well, anyway, the kid here was helping himself to some potatoes and beets. I have been talking to him and he is just plain hungry. Hell, man, you can tell by looking at him."

"Boy, y'all hungry?" Harley asked. He forgot all his 'self improvement' as his heart went out to the young man."

"Yes sir I pure dee am hungry as all git out," he answered in pure "Delta Arkansas" twang. "We er, uh I ain't had nothing to eat since yesterday morning sometime. Yes sir." He looked pleading up at Harley.

"Who is the other part of the 'we" you're talking about, boy." Harley looked down at the young man with compassion.

"Aw, its Sary, my wife. She's gonna have a baby and we ain't got no money and no place to stay after some railroad bull come by the old house we was staying in and run us off for squatting too close to railroad property. Now she's under the railroad bridge waiting for me to come back with something to eat." He looked pleadingly at each of the three men there and begged, "Please, if I got to be arrested, is there some way you all can help my Sary. We're going to have a baby and she's hungry."

Harley turned to Leroy and Milt and said, "I want you two to go out to bridge east of town and bring the young lady in. Be gentle and make sure she knows she isn't in trouble. Be very careful with her you know how skittish females are when they're going to have a baby. The two men nodded and left.

He turned to the young man, " What's your name, boy?"

"Billy Joe Barnes, sir," he answered quickly.

"Well, Billy, let's go see old man Summers and hear what he has to say about just forgetting the whole thing. Come on, now." Harley turned and walked outside to his Packard. He motioned for Billy to get in. As soon as both were seated, he started the car and drove off.

He stopped the car at the Summers back porch and got out. "Wait here," he told Billy. "I'll just be a minute."

The old hound came running up, caught Harley's scent and recognized it and began to slink off. "Come here, Boy, come here," he urged the dog. "I won't hurt you." He held his hand out and the hound cautiously came back and licked at a finger. Harley began to pet the dog and rub his ears and back. The old hound moaned his pleasure.

"Who's out here?" The voice came from the back door. "Who are you and what are you doing to my dog?"

"Well, to answer your questions in the order they were asked, I am Harley Durand, your new police chief and to answer your second question, I am patting your dog. He's a nice friendly old boy."

"Nice friendly my ass. Old Franklin attacks anybody what sneaks up around this house. Get away from my dog."

Harley gave Franklin another final pat and stood up straight. "Now Mister Summers, I figure you to be a pretty good man to have such a nice old dog. So I'll ask you outright, what are your intentions concerning the young feller you had the constable arrest? He seems like such a nice boy. I hate seeing him locked up when his only crime is that he was desperately hungry. He took those vegetables to feed him and his wife who is with child."

"Well, ain't the first time he stole from me. He or one of them other pieces of trash who come through here been stealing from me regular all year and I'm sick of it. I swore the next one was getting' shot or arrested. Your constable come by just as I was getting' ready to shoot him and so he got arrested instead."

"Well, how much damage did he do to your garden? Fifty cents worth? A dollar's worth, how much?" Purposely Harley kept his voice soft and friendly.

"Oh, I lost maybe five dollars worth of vegetables all summer long. Hit just ain't right for me to work at putting in a garden and then them ne'er do wells just come along and help themselves."

Harley pulled the roll out of his pocket and peeled off five one-dollar bills. "Here, this covers what was done tonight and then some. Take this and call it even. This takes care of your losses and I'll get back to the jail and see if Mister Jones has found the young lady so we can figure out what to do with them."

Reluctantly the old man took the proffered money. He seemed to almost prefer to bitch and argue to being paid. "What's the matter, that no good kin of yours?"

Worked to hold his temper, Harley answered, "No, Mister Summers, I never saw him before in my life. But I hate to see someone punished because they were driven by hunger to steal. Now truly, would you wish to see a young woman with a baby in her starve and lose her baby? You don't seem to be such a mean person."

Knowing he had been out maneuvered, Summers said, "Aw hell, forget it. Just plain old forget it. But the next one who sneaks up here and tries to take from me gets his ass blown apart. I'll just blow his ass clean off him."

Tired of the man's ranting, Harley nodded, turned and walked away. He got in the car and drove off. "He won't do anything more. You're free this time. But the next time you might not be so lucky."

"Thankee, Mister Duran, sir. Thankee." Relief showed plainly in his voice.

As they pulled up, The young man looked into the open door of the lighted building and yelled, "Sary, you all right?" He jumped out of the car and ran to the heavy set, young blond woman who appeared to be in the late stages of pregnancy. She was almost the same height as Billy who stood seven inches over five feet at the most.