“I’m sorry, James,” his loyal customer said. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. It’s just the first we’ve heard of this,” replied James.
James and Jason found the Sheriff in the truck, on the radio with Judge Lowry. The sounds of loud cursing escaped the barely cracked windows.
They waited several minutes until the Sheriff called them to move on.
The next few miles were awkward, as nobody spoke a word. Four out of the next five homes reported similar information when asked by Sheriff Johnson.
He was agitated, to say the least, but kept telling the citizens that there was a misunderstanding and he was seeking re-election as Sheriff in this great town. At each household he praised James, insinuating that they were a package deal.
Nearly ten hours later, they had visited 47 households and James felt good about most of their support.
Arriving back in town, they had about an hour to get home before complete darkness.
“I know we agreed to your working just three days per week, but I need you now,” said the Sheriff. “We’ve got six days till the election, and we must campaign and set the record straight.”
“After the election, we’re three days, just like we agreed?” asked James, wanting to set the record straight.
“Absolutely. Will you do that for me, James?”
“I think we can help you out on this one,” James replied, looking at Jason and getting a nod.
Headed home on the tractor, James’ mind was running the possible scenarios.
“Crazy day, don’t you think?” asked Jason.
“Yeah, we’ve got a few things to discuss,” James replied. “We need to be cautious about how we interact with Sheriff Johnson and Judge Lowry. They are not our friends and most likely never will be.
“Your questions this morning, although valid, were pushing the envelope with the Judge, and not in a good way.”
“I don’t understand,” replied Jason. “I saw you do that yesterday and it worked out well.”
“The difference,” replied James, “is that I set ground rules if we were to help them. Basically, they can get what they want if they give us what we want. What you did this morning was to question the Judge’s decision on matters we have no control over.”
“I get it, and I’m not saying you’re wrong, but our first concern is always our families, no matter what,” added James.
“You can’t fix everything they do, but we can use our positions to ensure that we as an extended family survive and prosper,” James continued.
“I understand, James. It’s just all screwed up and I’m not sure they have the best intentions for the town.”
“They don’t, and I wouldn’t want to be Mr. Grimes right now, having embarrassed the Sheriff in front of his citizens and potential voters. But we need to keep our eye on what’s most important, the only thing more important than any other. Families First, our families first, always, no matter what.”
“Agreed,” said Jason. “Nothing else really matters.”
Getting home just after dark, they filled the ladies in on the day’s events and the new schedule for the upcoming week. Janice and Lauren were not exactly pleased with the news, but it was not unexpected either.
“I wouldn’t be surprised to see the Grimes fellow suddenly disappear in the coming days,” Janice pointed out.
“I would agree,” said James. “The Sheriff was both upset and embarrassed by the comments he heard, and that can’t be good.”
“Did you get a gold star yet, Daddy?” asked Jason’s girls.
“No, not yet, girls. We’re still trying to get elected. Will you vote for us?” he asked, taking out a pen and paper and writing both their names on it.
“Yes, Daddy, we would love to cast the final votes,” said Candice.
“Sweetie, I wish it were that easy, but we need to win by talking with as many people as possible over the next week. Please write your vote on the paper, and we will turn it in to the proper authority.”
“Good night, everyone,” said James, exhausted by the day. “And thank you, Janice, for completing the chores today.”
“No worries, Mayor,” she quipped. “Lauren and the girls pitched in, and we had it done in no time.”
* * * *
James and Jason arrived in town on the tractor at 8:50 a.m., according to the town clock.
“Would you look at that!” said James, pointing to a bright yellow truck in front of the station. The large writing on the side read “Re-elect Sheriff Johnson.” The line below read “James VanFleet for Mayor & Jason Davis for Deputy Mayor.”
“It beats a tractor, for sure!” James exclaimed.
“Boots on the street, gentlemen,” said Judge Lowry, tossing the keys to James.
“This truck is yours for as long as you are Mayor of our fair town. Now go win an election, so I can let you keep it.”
“Yes, sir!” replied James, happy to be out of the Sheriff’s truck.
James and Jason stayed in town for the day and talked with nearly 80 residents, introducing themselves and putting in a good word for the Sheriff. They heard much of the same talk as yesterday about Mr. Grimes.
“The Grimes fellow either has balls of steel, or he has no idea who he’s messing with,” James said to Jason.
Jason drove the truck home that night, following James on the tractor.
A late-night dinner was saved for them, as they showed the family the new old truck.
“Tomorrow is Friday,” James announced. “We will work hard on our campaign, and on Saturday we will trade our wares.”
“Should Lauren and I start working on a billboard, advertising the moonshine?” asked Janice jokingly.
“We’ll be selling it for sure, since that was the deal, but we may want to keep it low profile and just peddle it like the guys at a baseball game for now.
“‘Moonshine! Get your moonshine here!’” James called out in a loud vendor’s voice.
“Oh, stop it, honey,” said Janice, punching him lightly on the shoulder.
The girls were excited to go back to town.
“I hope we can find more books,” said the girls.
“Can Chance come on Saturday to the carnival?” asked Jenna.
“He’s going to need about one more week to rest up,” Janice told her, “so maybe next week.”
Chance raised his head, barked once, and rolled back over to continue his nap.
The nights were becoming peaceful, and the gunshots in the distance were less every day.
James wondered if the Judge and Sheriff may be on to something, extending the town limits and demonstrating what happens to lawbreakers in their town.
* * * *
The drive into town on Friday morning was quick. “I could get used to traveling like this,” said Jason, rolling his passenger window down. “Wonder if the girls would know how to roll down the window without just pressing a button?” he added.
They were early this morning, not accounting for the time savings the truck afforded them.
Driving slowly through town, the bright yellow truck was getting the attention the Judge and Sheriff were anticipating. They stopped to talk to a few of the old-timers sitting out on the front porch of the only restaurant still in operation. “Weston Grill and Tavern is still open after 52 years and one apocalypse,” the front window read.
“Janice and I used to come here every Thursday,” said James. “I never imagined they would still be open.”
“Lauren and I were here a few times last year as well. Do you think they still have their famous chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes with country gravy?” asked Jason, trailing off as he read it on the window. “Trade days special: Our World-Famous Chicken Fried Steak with all the fixins every Saturday,” the billboard read.
Underneath, a smaller sign read “Wanting to buy 1/2 cow.”
“We may have to stop by here tomorrow after trade,” James told Jason. “Best be getting to the Sheriff�
��s office,” he added.
Sheriff Johnson was in a jovial mood, thought James, and the complete opposite of just two days ago.
“Gentlemen,” said the Sheriff, shaking both of their hands, with a smile. “I heard you boys talked with a lot of the townsfolk yesterday, and I’ve been told it went well.”
“You heard all that?” replied James, also smiling. “Well, I’m glad it was a good report,” now wondering who the Sheriff had following them.
“I’ve got a surprise for you, James,” the Sheriff said, fidgeting like a ten-year-old waiting to open his first birthday present. “Here in the back. Follow me.”
Walking past a man and woman in the same cell, seemingly the vegetable thieves from the other day, they stopped in front of the last cell in the building.
A man sat in the corner with a swollen face and blood-stained suit. He was gagged and was trying to speak.
“James, Jason. Meet Mr. Grimes,” said the Sheriff, beaming. “We caught him fighting in our safe town, now known for zero tolerance with respect to violence.”
The man was trying to stand, and it was now clear his hands and feet were bound.
“Where’s the other guy?” asked Jason, now feeling sick to his stomach.
“We haven’t found him yet, but we’re confident he will be located at some point.”
Walking back to the front, the Sheriff said, “Let’s keep this unfortunate development to ourselves for now. No use confusing the citizens of our great town right now. We’ve still got an election coming up, and the townsfolk need to have their say.
“Let’s have you boys hit the town again today.
“The Judge and I will prepare for tomorrow’s trade days, where I think you’ll get a chance to talk to most of the new residents outside the former town limits.”
“Sounds good, Sheriff,” said James, nearly dragging Jason out of the building.
“Not a word,” James whispered to Jason, until we’re in the truck and a quarter mile down the road.
“Okay, Jason,” he said, after a long pause while driving. “Let’s get on the same page here.”
“It’s obvious,” Jason blurted out, “that the Sheriff just beat up his opponent and arrested him. He won’t let him speak and can’t even come up with the supposed other guy he said was involved!”
“That’s true,” said James.
“I’m sure he’s not just going to let him go before the election,” Jason continued. “What about his right to a fair trial?”
“Do you mean the one with the good friend of the Sheriff, Judge Lowry, presiding and issuing the final judgment?” James asked.
“I see your point, James. But if he’s behind bars and his running mate for Mayor is a no-good drunk, like the Sheriff says, then why are we even campaigning? I mean, isn’t it already in the bag?”
“People are funny, Jason, and it’s all about perception. If the Sheriff lets it get out that he’s arrested his opponent, then the townsfolk won’t have a say in the election.
“If, however, no one sees Mr. Grimes for the next week and only sees the Sheriff ensuring fair trade at the market and making the kid’s school safe to learn in, then it’s an easy vote. Add a few public hangings of folks who crossed the law, and you’re looking at a landslide victory.
“The Sheriff and Judge get the appearance of a fair election, and the townspeople get to think they had a say in it. Everybody wins, and the truth is it’s not too far off from the way it used to be.
“Most people thought they had a choice for President, could pick anyone they wanted. When it comes right down to it, we only had two realistic options between what each party had put forward, and maybe an independent billionaire who never had a chance.
“People felt good and powerful, but they were led all the way down the path with promises of the next four years being better than the last, with the newly elected President realizing quickly that their hands were tied and most of their well-meaning campaign promises could not be kept.
“The same is happening here, just on a much smaller scale.”
“I don’t like it,” replied Jason, “but I guess it makes sense. We’re the buffer between the Sheriff, the Judge, and the citizens of this town.”
“My father once told me a story about a man who suddenly came into a large sum of money from a lawsuit settlement,” James said.
“He had advised the man to hire a financial planner, so when his long-lost family members and old friends came to him with a loan request or new business idea, he could say, ‘It sounds great to me. Just run it by my advisor, and if they’re good with it, then so am I.’ It was no coincidence that the adviser always said no, putting the blame squarely on him. Does that make sense, Jason?”
“I’m sorry, James, but I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“Well, Jason, you and I are the financial advisors, and the Sheriff is the man with the money. He gets to say yes to townsfolks’ ideas and issues, and we have to say no to most.”
“So, we’re the bad guys?” asked Jason.
“Sometimes it’s going to feel like that, I’m sure, but we’ll do our best for the citizens here and always put our own families first.
“Just stick close, Jason, and I’ll keep us one step ahead of both Judge Lowry and Sheriff Johnson. Let’s meet some more townsfolk.”
The day was productive, as they spoke with nearly 100 people and likely secured most of their votes for them and Sheriff Johnson. Popping into the restaurant, James was able to secure a now-coveted reservation for seven tomorrow at 4:30 p.m.
Upon hearing the news about him running for Mayor, the restaurant owner gave him and Jason each a small sample plate of what they would eat there tomorrow.
Jason smiled after the first bite, thinking this may be the best meal he’d ever tasted.
“This is incredible,” he whispered to James, “but Lauren and I don’t have any money to come back here tomorrow.”
“Never mind that. We’ll be using the money we earn from the trading tomorrow…
“Speaking of that, we’ve got to get back and start packing up for trade!”
They made it back to the ranch early, around 4:30 in the afternoon.
After chores, they packed up more fruits and vegetables, plant seeds, beef jerky, six jars of honey, four dozen eggs retrieved by the girls, and eight cases of moonshine.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Seventeen ~
Weston, Colorado
“I’ve got half a mind to sell the restaurant that side of beef they’re looking for, but don’t know what to do with the other half. It won’t keep long,” said James.
“What if we sold the other half in small 2- to10-pound bags at the market next week? We could take deposits tomorrow and see if enough people are interested before you have to commit,” commented Jason.
“Jason, that’s a great idea! I like your entrepreneurial spirit. I wonder how much a steer is worth these days?” James pondered.
“We’ll stop by the restaurant before trading tomorrow and see what they’re willing to pay. In the old days—just a few weeks ago—it was about $1,200 per half, including the kill fee to the rancher,” continued James.
“Not many people want to kill their own steer,” added Jason.
“Nope,” replied James. “Heck, most people couldn’t tell you the first thing about harvesting any of the meat they were used to seeing neatly packaged in the grocery store. The only concern they had was the price and the expiration date.”
It was an early night, as they got ready to trade in the morning.
* * * *
This time they pulled the trailer behind the truck, heading out early to stop by the restaurant. The other vendors making the same drive pointed at the yellow truck and waved. The girls all waved back, reminding Janice of the floats at the Macy’s Day Parade.
Just outside the restaurant, the aroma of bacon filled the air. A small crowd of maybe 15 waited patiently outside.
Ja
mes and Jason, riding on the trailer with the girls while Janice drove with Lauren up front, jumped off the trailer to speak with the owner.
“Mr. VanFleet,” said the restaurant owner, “and Mr….uh…”
“Davis,” Jason interjected.
“Yes, of course. Mr. Davis. Welcome, are you here for breakfast?”
“No, sir,” replied James, “but we will be back for our early dinner tonight. Have you found that side of beef that you’re looking for yet?”
Next World Series (Vol. 2): Families First [The Road] Page 17