by Frank Perry
storms to protect the animals that were rapidly becoming unnecessary as tractors took over the work. Mostly, the old barn doors, built in the nineteenth century, remained opened permanently, and some couldn’t close at all. The Albrecht barn door could close using the horses, but it would attract attention over time. There was no way to really hide all of Hicks’ crates in the barn.
They had another problem. There was only one way Sarah and Carter could live until the farm matured and to pay for the metal building; they had to sell some of the stolen materials. It would compound their crimes, but society had taken away all other options.
Carter dismantled a crate with old Army markings. The contents were unknown until he discovered it loaded with German military rifles, helmets, trench knives and even some bloodied uniforms, some even with medals attached. The crate was marked like the others, reused Army shipping containers. That night, he loaded the hay wagon with over a ton of war memorabilia taken from the single crate and left the following morning for Ann Arbor, unsure what he would do when he got there. The pile in the wagon was covered with canvas and enough hay to deceive casual examination.
Five days later, he was back home with enough money to build the equipment building and for them to live through the winter. He’d found a huge surplus store in the city that took everything. He haggled a little, but really had no idea what things were worth; and the man buying it was mildly threatening to the boy. He’d slept in the wagon on the way going and coming, eating biscuits, fruit and dried meat his mother had packed. She prayed every night for his safety, feeling relief when she saw him coming along the road. She greeted him with a huge hug, then told him to go bathe. She was proud of him beyond words, but worried that they had started down a path of no return. She swore to herself that she would never let the law mistreat Carter as it had John. Neither of them would ever trust the judgments of courts or juries of their peers again.
Within weeks, the metal building had been built, and all of the crates moved into it, nearly filling the back half. They disguised the stacks with fruit crates and farm equipment, as much as possible.
In the early spring, blossoms on the young trees offered some hope of a small crop. Sarah and Carter worked the farm from dawn to dusk, hoping that it would be enough to live another year. Neither of them wanted to chance another trip to the city.
One hot early summer day, shortly after noon, they were in the barn when a car drove onto the property, stopping by the house. Sarah stepped out, horrified to see the Sheriff, Cass Jasick, looking fatter than ever. Sweat had drenched his shirt as he stood, noticing her. Her memories of the last time he’d arrested John were still haunting. His smug approach radiated more self-assurance than he deserved as the county’s top peace officer. The man was always after more of everything. She was sure he had helped skew the case against John, assuring he would die. In effect, the smug, fat, corrupt man approaching her had killed her husband. Carter joined his mother.
Cass touched his hat rim, “Hello, ma’am; junior.”
“What do you want from me now, Sheriff?” Her hatred couldn’t be hidden.
“Well, ma’am, I come to talk to the boy.”
She stepped partially in front of Carter, who moved further aside. “What about?”
“Well, ma’am, no need to be hostile, I jus’ have a couple questions, that’s all.”
“I’m his mother, and you can ask me.”
“Okay then, here it is. You see, a friend o’ mine bought some right nice guns and such from a fellow in Ann Arbor who owns one of them surplus stores. Seems the man had a lotta German stuff; more’n I seen ever before.”
She was visibly shaking, “Get to the point! What’s that got to do with us.”
“Well ma’am, that’s jus’ it. You see, I did some inquirin’ through the police there, and they say some boy, they called him, with a hay wagon brought hundreds of pieces of stuff, all kinds of German guns an’ war stuff in to town to sell cheap. Said he come from around Jackson.”
“There’s lots of boys around Jackson on hay wagons, Sheriff, why are you hassling us?”
“Well, ma’am, I don’t think I’m hassling, I’m just doing my duty and inquiring.”
“What are you inquiring about? Is it a crime to do what this boy supposedly did?” She honestly couldn’t think of anything.
“Ain’t no crime ma’am, except if all that was stolen. You see, it might be a coincidence, but some of the folks associated with your poor husband’s unfortunate demise, was saying that Mr. Hicks had it coming...” He didn’t finish while wiping his forehead.
She stepped forward and yelled, “How come none of this was said at my husband’s trial!”
He continued, unflustered and seemed almost to smile, “Well, that’s the point ma’am, it was just hearsay. I only deal in facts. And one of the things I investigated, after the fact you might say, was Mr. Hicks’ possessions. You see ma’am, he didn’t have much.”
Carter had been looking at the ground through all the dialogue. He didn’t want to speak to the man who had surely played a part in killing his father.
She responded, “So, what did you prove? Just that he didn’t have anything?”
“That’s just it ma’am. Mr. Hicks ran the granary near Jackson and folks that used it said that he kept the barn for his personal property. He kept it locked accordin’ to those that knew him. An’ those same fellows, those Army men that said your husband hated Mr. Hicks; they said Hicks took all kinds o’ stuff with him from France during the war, packed in old Army crates.”
“What’s that got to do ...”
He interrupted. “Puttin’ two and two together, I figure it’s possible that your husband killed Mr. Hicks to steal his things. He musta known about it, according to what he wrote in the paper. So you see, I gotta investigate.” The Sheriff showed a devious grin.
“You don’t have any right to be on our property.”
“Ma’am, that’s where we might differ in our opinions; you see, I’m the Sheriff (he emphasized the point by putting his hand on his pistol). I’m the law in these parts, the only law is me and my deputies, and I got a suspicion that your son here, and maybe you too, been up to no good. If Carter here helped his daddy steal things from Mr. Hicks, why that would make him an accessory, maybe even to the murder. That’s just like being the murderer himself. Therefore, you see, I’m gonna get to the bottom of this, and you shouldn’t interfere or I’ll lock you up, too. I got no problem throwin’ a woman in jail, especially one who was livin’ with a murderer.”
Sarah was livid, scared and livid. Cass Jasick was a notorious thug. She felt helpless, which was what he expected. So he went on, “I can tell you’re upset, ma’am, and I regret that. Maybe you and me can work something out.”
Sarah and Carter both looked at the old fat man in disgust. Sarah was still a beautiful woman, even after the hardship of these last months. Before she could object, Cass continued, “You see ma’am, I figure that young Carter here is pretty likely going to prison. When I get through investigating, I can ‘bout guarantee you that he’s goin’ up the river. However, I can make this a lot easier on you if you was to sell me this here farm. I might even look the other way on any charges against him.” She looked at Jasick in shock. He wanted the farm in exchange for her son! Before she could object again, he said, “Now the way I got it figured, you gonna lose the farm anyway. You gonna miss taxes and got no way to work the farm without him (pointing to Carter whose nostrils had flared), so it’s gone anyways. I generally get most property if it gets to auction, so I’ll pay you now what I figure it’s worth at auction (five cents on the dollar). And o’ course, you would leave everything in place just like it is now. You could take your clothes.”
“You’ve ... you’ve got to be kidding.” Terror had overtaken her. “We’d starve after that, I can’t give up the farm.”
Cass took on a mean look, reaching for the boy, “You co
me with me boy, you gonna spend some time in the jail house while I investigate. Come on now, get in the car!”
Carter looked at his mother, then started backing down the hill toward the house and the car, eyes pleading with his mother for what to do. The fat man pushed at his chest backing him faster. Carter had tears in his eyes, not so much from sorrow or fear, but from rage. He wanted to tear out the Sheriff’s heart. This man had terrorized his father and now wanted to destroy his family. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he wasn’t getting in the car with the Sheriff. Even though Cass was twice his size, Carter was going to fight, he couldn’t outrun the gun; but before he acted, the Sheriff groaned and stood upright, arching his back like his belly would burst.
Behind him, Sarah held the pitchfork chest high and lunged again and again. It hadn’t done much damage; it shocked the big man more than injured him. He twisted away, falling to the ground on his side as she thrust the fork more deeply into his thigh, screaming obscenities that Carter never heard her use before. She was enraged and thrust again and again, not seriously hurting the man, but jabbing shallow holes all over his lower body. The man yelled and rolled, trying to reach his gun as she stabbed his left shoulder several times.
Carter reacted. Realizing the Sheriff was going