Chapter 22: The Fat Woman Sang

The next morning, Harley asked Viola Clanton what she thought of becoming a jailor. "What in hell do I know about Jails? I never been in one in my life and neither has my old man Anse." She looked at him as if he had suddenly gone crazy.

"Well, what I have is a county jail. It has room for twenty prisoners with four colored men acting as guards. Your job would be to see the guards show up on time and any prisoners get fed. You would have the apartment to live in on the second floor. Since Dupais was living there, it was fixed up pretty nice. There are three bedrooms and a nice living room. The back entrance is away from the jail and your husband would be near a doctor if needed. The job would be for a year. We are making some great changes in this county."

"Niggers guarding white men? A woman running the jail? Sheriff, different doesn't even start to scratch the surface." She paused and looked at him with great affection. "Hell, if I wasn't so downright ugly an' you wasn't so married..." Her face turned red and she looked at the floor in embarrassment as she stopped herself.

Harley kissed her gently on the cheek and patted her shoulder. "You are in no way ugly, Viola. You have more character in your face and bravery and loyalty in your heart than almost any other person I have ever met." He winced as the bandaged wound began to ache. "I'll get a couple of people to help you get moved in here."

He picked up the phone, "Sheriff, if this is the sheriff, what do you need today, a doctor, a meal sent up or reinforcements? Never a dull day around you."

He began to laugh, felt his wound protest and held back all but a smile, "Mildred, would you send a couple of high school boys over to the jail to help the new jailer move in? Missus Clanton will want them to fetch and carry for her and help her husband up the stairs and into their new apartment."

"You got it. I know just the two. I'll round them up and have them over there in two shakes of a lamb's tail." He hung up the phone and slowly walked outside. Lee Roy was there waiting for Harley in the back seat of the Packard.

Harley moved slow as he got in and said, "Don't get shot, it cramps your style. Let's go over to the Hot Spot. I need to talk to His Honor."

Ellie's cousin Clint sat behind the wheel. "Sheriff, the judge is over at the courthouse. He ain't at the Hot Spot."

As the young man started the engine, Harley told him, "How does your family keep track of everybody? You never fail to amaze me."

Clint laughed and said, "Aw hell, it ain't no secret, Harley. I just saw him walk across from the café. Whilst you was inside there, I saw him going toward the courthouse.'

Harley leaned back and said, "Let's go to the courthouse." Lee Roy nodded and Cletus drove the two short blocks to the courthouse, circled around back and waited for Harley to get out. "Take the car and go eat," he told the young man.

It was work for Harley to get out of the Packard and into the judge's courtroom. He walked over to a chair along the wall and grunted as he sat down in it. Just then the door he had just come through opened again and three men were led through in shackles.

One was wounded and had to be half carried by the other two prisoners. Harley watched the procession as they were led to the defendant's table and told to sit. Harley grinned at the sight of the obvious pain the wounded man was in.

"This court is now in order. In the absence of a bailiff, I shall run the whole shooting match myself. You three are charged with attempted murder of two police officers, boot legging and illegal possession of alcoholic beverages. How do you plead?"

"Maybe the big bastard over there caught us red handed, but we was not guilty." The larger of the three who had hidden in the basement of the roadhouse blustered.

"Are you not guilty to attempting to kill two lawmen, not guilty of bootlegging or what? Speak up and keep a civil tongue in your mouth or I will order you bound and gagged." Judge Mack was in no mood for any interference in his court.

"Aw fuck you, you old son of a bitch." The loud mouth barely got the words out when the policeman, one of the new hires, brought a gun barrel down over the back of the man's head, effectively silencing him. The mouthy prisoner fell to the floor unconscious.

"Don't mistreat the prisoners," Judge Mack ordered the new policeman in a stern voice. "Next time just stun him." The policeman, a man in his mid thirties, nodded.

"How do you plead?" he asked the other unwounded man.

"Aw shit, Judge. We is all guilty as shit. You all knows it and I knows it and my cousin Dan here knows it," he answered, nodding his head toward the wounded man.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" the judge asked.

"Well, hell, we was not intending to shoot them two daid. We just wanted to get away because we all heard what happened when you run afoul of the big suma bitch." He looked at Harley fearfully.

"Well, in case, I accept a blanket plea of guilty and sentence you to ten years hard labor at the state penal institution. Prisoners are now to be held in the county jail until they can be remanded to the proper federal authorities for further charges. Who's next?"