by Wilson Harp
“It don’t matter what others may or may not have done, what we are talking about is what Jackson done. He is the one that is on trial here. Not Brent Talley, not me, not anyone else. The facts are he is a dangerous man who has said he will do it again. Now the question we have to ask is do we want a dangerous nigger running about even after he killed someone?”
I didn’t gasp audibly at the slur, but I heard several people do so. Racism was still around in Kenton, but it had grown shy in the last couple of decades and wasn’t part of acceptable public talk.
To his credit, McDaniels seemed to realize what he had said. His jaw moved but no sound came out for a few seconds.
“My point is, if he breaks the written laws of before and doesn’t seem compelled to follow decent civil rules of now, what makes you think he cares about any laws or rules you set for him? He must be punished and we must set an example for others to follow.”
The deputy sat back at his table and dropped his head into his hands. I felt a surge of optimism as I thought maybe his case had been blown wide open.
Buck stood and waited until the mayor motioned him forward. There was a commotion that caused the big, burly man to look toward the front door of the library. I turned, with most of the rest of the observers, and saw Lester Collins and several of his men walk in. They were heavily armed, but had the manner of men who were looking for a good time.
“Are we too late?” Lester asked loudly. “I hope the trial ain’t over yet.”
“What do you want, Collins?” Mayor Mueller asked.
“I just want the opportunity to address the court and all of those in attendance before you go deciding the fate of Kenny, if that would be okay.”
Collins moved forward by himself as the mayor nodded.
“Mister Fredrickson was about to make his closing arguments in Kenneth Jackson’s defense. You can speak your piece after he is done.”
Buck looked back at the mayor and the rest of the council.
“May I continue?” he asked
“Proceed.”
“Thank you, Mister Mayor. The case before you today is not about the death of a thief and danger to this town. It is about laws and rights. When we had a robust system of law enforcement, then the laws that had been passed and the system for enforcing those laws made sense.
“But we are in a new world now. When something is stolen from you, it can’t be replaced. There is no insurance company that will replace your items. There is no corner store where you can go buy another. There simply isn’t anything you can do about your loss. And that means every theft is a permanent set-back for the victim. Every loss of possession is a sliver, or chunk, or major structure out of the victim’s life they have built and have no way of getting back.
“Brent Talley was found with medicine among his stolen goods. Medicine that is essential to those who owned it. Was not that a form of murder? Stealing a man’s medicine when there was no way to replace it? It was murder and more sinister a version than having a noose put around your neck and hanged for villainy.
“If you find Kenny guilty, then you set the rules of an old society over the welfare of Kenton. You set the dream of what was above the reality of what is. Kenny doesn’t deserve death. He doesn’t deserve exile. He deserves our respect and admiration for having the strength to do what was needed. Thank you.”
The murmurs of the audience surged as Buck sat down. Everyone was whispering their opinions of what the trial meant and what they thought should, and would, happen.
“Order! Order!” Mayor Mueller banged the gavel.
“Now we are going to go meet privately to determine the verdict in this case. Mister Collins, you wanted to address the court before we went into deliberations?”
“Yes, thank you,” Lester said. He walked over to the table the council sat at and turned back to the crowded room.
“I just want to say that although Brent Talley was a man who we have had some dealings with, we were unaware of how he procured certain items. It was our understanding he was salvaging from houses of people who no longer needed the amenities he was gathering for us.
“With that in mind, if you have anything missing he may have sold to us, we would be glad to trade it back to you for no more than we gave him. It’s only fair.
“As for Kenny here, we understand if you may want to put him to death for his act of violence. If that is indeed the verdict you decide upon, I would be happy to pay a sizable amount of goods and services in order to take him into my compound so we make use of his talents and labor.”
Lester bowed and motioned to his men. They turned without a word and forced their way back out of the library. A small wave of space opened in front of Lester as he advanced and within a minute, he was out of sight of where I sat. When I looked back at the court, the council and jury were filing into the side room and Buck was talking with Kenny. They were both smiling. I felt like smiling, too. From what I had seen I thought there was a very good chance Kenny would not be put to death for his actions.
“What do you think, Ted?” Anne leaned across me to ask the appointed leader of our town.
“I don’t know,” he said. “My gut says Kenny walks, but I have a lot of friendship tied up in that. I’m not sure if I can be objective.”
“What about you, David? What do you think Kenny’s chances are?” Anne asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I think Buck gave a good argument behind the reason Kenny killed him, but I don’t know if it was enough to get him out of all trouble. You can’t give back a man’s life. Killing a man is hard to accept as a good thing.”
We chatted and talked about the trial, about what Kenny would have to face based upon all of the possible outcomes, about how this changed the town, how the people in town would now view each other, and what we could expect when crime did happen in the future.
The heat in the room crept up as time went on. The crowd of bodies more than overcame the cool of the evening, and soon everyone was drenched with their own sweat. But no one left. Everyone stayed where they had found a spot, none willing to walk outside and have to hear second-hand the outcome of this evening.
Eventually the door near the front of the court opened and the council and jury came out. They took their seats and the mayor motioned back to the room where they had been shut away. Kenny and Buck came out first. They took their seats at their table and then McDaniels came out. I breathed out in relief as I saw the deputy’s jaw clenched and his hands in fists at his sides.
He dropped down in his seat and didn’t seem to look at anyone in particular.
Mayor Mueller rose and gaveled the room quiet.
“In the case of Kenneth Jackson, this court has reached a decision.”
No one in the room whispered. No one stirred.
“We find that Kenneth Jackson acted in an unlawful manner in the killing of Brent Talley. Therefore, this court has determined that Kenneth Jackson shall be prohibited from entering the township of Kenton for the remainder of his life.
“He will be escorted to the town’s limit and the road guards will be instructed to prevent his entrance by any means necessary, up to and including lethal force.”
The mayor banged his gavel one more time and the council and jury stood and went back to their room.
Ted sighed as he stood. “Well, better than it could have been, I guess.”
Kenny looked back across the few rows of people that separated us and nodded. He wore a frown and I could tell he was disappointed in the verdict. I was relieved he was going to be okay, although I would miss him around town.
The room cleared faster than I would have expected, but with the trial over and the heat in the building making the cool evening a more enjoyable venue for discussion, it made sense.
My dad walked out of the room with Ike and Clint. He spotted me and waved me over.
“I think my dad wants to leave soon,” I said to Anne and Ted.
“Take those rides when you can, talk t
o you tomorrow, David,” Ted said.
“I’ll be over tomorrow night for dinner,” Anne added. “Let your folks know.”
I said my goodbyes and made my way over to my dad.
“How are you?” I asked. He looked very pale and seemed short of breath.
“I’m fine. Would just like to get out of this suit and sit in a cool bath tub.”
“When we get home, I’ll go get you water,” I said.
He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “Sounds good, David. Let step outside and see if we can’t find a cool breeze.”
We left the library and stepped out into the night. I almost shivered as we crossed the threshold of the front doors, the change in temperature was that drastic. Dad needed to hold onto my arm as we walked down the steps. I had never seen him this weak and I just wanted to get him home and cooled down.
Clint was already in the truck and waiting for us. There would be no collection of kids and dogs with darkness already covering the town. Clint turned the lights on as we approached the vehicle. The dim headlights blazed like the noon-day sun as they cut through the darkness of the tree shaded square.
I helped Dad into the cab and scrambled into the back as Clint started the engine. A running vehicle was still enough of an oddity that we attracted a fair crowd who waved and smiled as we pulled away from the square.
A few seconds later, the truck was running down Granger road. I raised my head above the roof of the truck cab, fully prepared to take an insect or two in my face, just to feel the cold rush of the wind.
The night was still moonless, and a thin wispy layer of clouds blocked all but the brightest stars from shining down into the darkness. I knew why the dark scared us. I knew why primitive man was drawn to the light of the fire. Twin beams of pure white light ran before me, driving the darkness back. That light meant safety, it meant no fear of the unknown.
We arrived at the house and I hopped out of the back of the truck. What was a risk just a few hours before seemed like the most natural thing to do as the ride energized me. Kenny was safe, the darkness was vanquished, and I was home.
Chapter 18
The final drop of solder was in place. I blew on it, more out of habit than to cool it, as I took it back inside. I had a small steel fire pit out back that I burned charcoal in and heated up an old wood-burning blade. I found that was a perfect setup to melt solder as I tried to piece together parts of the short-wave radio I had spent the last two months working on.
“Good luck,” Dad said. He was reading a magazine while sitting at the table. I didn’t believe there is a single magazine in town that he hadn’t read. Maybe not the ones in Luke’s collection, but then again, maybe he liked them for the articles.
“Eighty-fifth time’s the charm,” I said as I headed back to my room. Every time I would think I had it figured out, I would find another spot on a board that had burned out, or a component that had cracked.
I slid the small green chip into the back of the radio. I attached the copper lead that would connect the receiver to the power regulator, and then I clipped on the power supply. I made sure the connections to the battery were solid and I pushed the switch to the on position.
The dials moved, the lights popped on, and then miraculously, stayed on.
I couldn’t believe it. It looked live and wasn’t making a hiss or sputtering.
I reached out with great care and moved the frequency dial. Healthy static came from the speakers as I moved the dial.
Then I heard it. The broken pattern of a received signal. Far too faint to clearly hear, it was a signal being broadcast from another radio.
I turned off the radio and paced around the room. I shook from excitement and fear. Then I turned the radio back on. The broken signal was still there. I had fixed the radio.
I turned the short-wave off again and carefully packed it in my gym bag. It was no longer in the compact form that would fit snugly in the case it was bought in. I knew how each component fit together, though, so I packed it so it would be safe as I carried it out to Ted’s place and the cell tower.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Mom asked as I emerged from the hallway.
“I got it,” I said. As much as I was trying to remain calm I could tell the excitement was building.
“The radio?” Dad asked. He stood up from the table and looked at me with wide eyes. A smiled crept across his face.
“The radio,” I said as I smiled back. “I have to get to Ted’s so we can set it up.”
“You did it, David,” he said. “You may have saved us all. I’m so proud of you, son.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I might be gone for a while, but I’ll fill you in on all the details when I get back.”
I left the house and shut the front door behind me. I wanted to run all the way through town and up the north road to Ted’s house, but I made myself walk. The last thing I wanted to do was trip and damage the cargo I had packed so carefully.
The sun was drifting toward noon. Tendrils of smoke in the distance showed signs some of the raiders to the west were still active. As I passed the wheat fields, I saw several of the older farmers with long handled scythes showing some of the younger men how to swing the hand tools in the most efficient manner. The wheat was just a few days from being ready to harvest, as long as the rains held off.
There were certain landmarks the town had unconsciously established, and a major one was the first wheat harvest. With enough wheat to turn into flour, we could have bread again. While the meat and vegetable diet was starting to feel right, having a slice of bread with dinner or a biscuit with breakfast would be marvelous.
I made my way past Miller Street. A crowd of women and children were gathered outside Millie Marsh’s house. One of the kids would bring my parents their evening meal when I didn’t show up. I wanted to go over there and share my good news, but I thought I should make sure the radio worked at the tower before I talked about it. The early July sun was hot and the air was humid as I made my way past the town square and headed for the highway out of town. The armed men at the north barricade waved at me. I just waved back and kept my pace. They must have sensed I was in a hurry, as they didn’t try to stop me to talk.
It was just three miles from the north edge of town to the gate of Ted’s compound. The blacktop turn off was a mile away, and then there were two high hills in the next two miles. A few months ago I would have been winded by the four relatively flat miles from my folk’s house to the library, but now my legs were still loose and responsive as I passed the barricade with the armed guards. I didn’t go to the compound often, but they knew I had been there a couple of times. They yelled to me to say hello to Kenny when I saw him. Kenny had made some very vocal allies among several of the men who saw themselves as protectors of Kenton.
The hills proved no problem as I scurried my way along the blacktop. My feet wanted to run, but I had to make sure the radio arrived in good condition. Finally, I turned into the long drive heading to the gates. Kenny was clearing some brush along the side of the road.
“David,” he called. “What are you doing up here this morning?”
“I got it,” I said.
Kenny slipped his machete in its sheath. His eyes widened and he let out a loud whoop.
“Let’s get you inside,” he said. “Tom! Tom! Come here!”
I followed Kenny into the compound with my precious cargo. Tom came running up to meet Kenny, who danced around me like a dog happy to see his owner back from the grocery store.
“What is it?” Tom asked. “The radio?” He was staring at the gym bag I held carefully in front of me.
I nodded and Tom darted off toward the small shed where he had prepared the space for the radio to sit.
He had the door open and motioned me inside as I kept the fast walking pace I had established since I stepped out of my front door. I entered the room and set the gym bag on the table. I unzipped the bag and carefully removed the packed radio. It looked like it was al
l intact. I attached the battery and turned the power on. Lights glowed and dials moved.
Tom and Kenny stared at it for a solid minute as I moved everything off the table and motioned to Tom.
“Go ahead, set it up to the antennae,” I said.
Tom nodded and attached the coaxial cable to the radio. The choppy signal wavered and then stabilized. I adjusted the frequency dial and we heard a voice.
“Roger Charlie 4. We had you set. Over.”
“We’ll be heading up to next point in a few. Contact when we get there. Charlie 4 out.”
I picked up the hand mic and prayed it would work. I was amazed just to hear voices coming in over the radio, to not be able to talk back to them would be such a disappointment.
“Hello,” I said. “Can anyone hear me?”
For a few seconds, the three of us waited as we only heard the inert static of a solid signal.
“Who is this?” a voice crackled back.
“My name is David and I am from Kenton. We just got our radio working.”
A few more seconds went by before we got another response.
“David from Kenton, it’s good to hear from you. And congratulations on repairing your radio. That couldn’t have been easy. What is your general situation?”
“Don’t give away too much information,” Kenny said. “We don’t know who he is or where he is.”
I nodded. That made sense and I knew I needed to be brief and terse.
“We are doing fine,” I said. “Who are you and where are you located.”
“I am Sergeant Webb and I am sitting in a bunker in Missouri. Where is Kenton located?”
“He’s trying to get you to give up our position. He isn’t giving his up,” Kenny said.
“Be careful, David, but we can’t give in to paranoia,” Tom said.
“We are pretty close, I think. How is the situation where you are?” I asked.
“We have control of the general area. Have you had trouble with outside people?”
“A few,” I said. “We were able to make sure we weren’t bothered by them.”
“I pulled a map up, David. Looks like you are about 90 miles from us. We are in Cape Girardeau.”