by Edward Gates
Charlie smiled down at his friend and nodded, then turned and headed back to Fort Smith. It was time to see Sheriff Hart.
50
Sheriff Hart
Charlie stood in the street facing the three-story red brick building that housed the sheriff’s office. He couldn’t help but think that being a deputy sheriff was going to be a bad idea. Time travelers shouldn’t get involved. What if he had to use his weapon against another person? Would he change history? The conversation he had with himself was a mix of trying to work up the courage to meet the sheriff and talking himself into walking away.
He studied the building noticing the second-floor windows. One showed a sign for “John Jacob Abrams, Real Estate” and the other window was lettered “Samuel E. Bishop, Attorney.” A wooden stairway alongside the building provided access to the two second-floor offices. With a heavy sigh of resolution, Charlie fought off the urge to leave and entered the sheriff’s office.
Sheriff George Hart glanced up from his paperwork and then returned to it, hardly acknowledging Charlie’s entrance. The sheriff was a portly man who Charlie estimated to be in his early forties. Streaks of gray outlined his ears and highlighted the rest of his brown hair. A bushy mustache covered his upper lip and traveled down the sides of his mouth to mid-chin. He sat behind a large, ornately carved oak desk that looked out of place in the otherwise modest setting. Plain white plaster covered the interior walls and surrounded the unfinished wood planks of the floor. A simple armless wooden chair sat in front of the sheriff’s desk and a basic wood table and stool stood against the wall.
“Sheriff Hart? I’m Charlie Turlock. I’m supposed to be --”
“I know who you are,” the sheriff interrupted without looking up. “I was wondering how long it would be before Weatherby found somebody fool enough to take over this job.”
“I’m not taking over anybody’s job. I don’t really want to be here at all.”
Sheriff Hart looked up, peeled off his spectacles and took a long look at Charlie. “You’re kinda young. How come you ain’t in the army?”
“You know, I’m really getting tired of everyone asking me that.” Charlie sat in the wooden chair. “I’m not in the army for the same reason you’re not. We’re government officials.”
“I’m too old to join,” the sheriff countered sharply.
“No, you’re not. The conscription age was raised to forty-five and, believe it or not, it’ll be raised to fifty-five by the end of this year. What are you? Forty-three, forty-four?”
There was a marked silence as Sheriff Hart stared at him with cold eyes and a stern expression. Charlie stared back.
Finally, Charlie said, “I think we’re getting off to a bad start, here.” He stood and casually strode around the office. “You’re right. Max sent me over here, but it’s just temporary. And I’m not looking to take over your job. He said nothing to me about your job. He just said he’d let you know I was coming.”
The sheriff didn’t answer.
Charlie continued. “He first wanted me to be a city councilman, but I refused that. I wanted to refuse this job, but I didn’t see any other option. Max can be pretty persuasive.”
The sheriff snorted. “You bet he can.” He leaned back in his chair. “Why’d you take the job if you didn’t want it?”
“Well, it sure isn’t for the money. Twenty dollars a month will barely keep me alive.” Charlie chuckled at his stab at humor. The sheriff didn’t crack a smile. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say this job is a legitimate way for me to remain a civilian.”
Sheriff Hart didn’t reply. He put his glasses back on and returned to his paperwork. Charlie watched him work for a few minutes and then gazed around the office.
Besides the door and two windows on the front wall, there were two other doors on the back wall – no other openings. One of the back-wall doors was a door made of thick, heavy timbers held together by large iron straps. There was a small window in the door with vertical bars in it. Charlie looked through the window into a hallway with six jail cells, three on either side.
“That’s the jail,” the sheriff announced.
“And that one?” Charlie pointed to the smaller second door on the back wall.
“Storeroom. Inside that storeroom is another door that leads out to the alley.” After a moment the sheriff asked, “Ever done any law enforcement?”
“No. Never did,” Charlie answered. “How about you? You been in law enforcement for a while?”
“A few years,” replied the sheriff. There was a moment where Charlie waited for an expounding that didn’t come.
“How about your family? You have a family? A wife? Children?” Charlie asked, trying to make conversation.
“Nope.”
Another silent period.
“You sure aren’t much of a conversationalist,” Charlie said.
Sheriff Hart removed his glasses again and tossed them on his desk. He leaned back in his chair and looked at Charlie. “It’s Charlie, right? If you think I’m happy to see you, I ain’t. To me, you’re just another one of Max’s cronies. Regardless of what you think or what you were told, you’re here to either replace me or keep an eye on me. Lately, Max and me don’t see eye-to-eye on things.” The sheriff stared at Charlie.
Dave’s cautioning about Max swirled through Charlie’s mind. Apparently, Dave wasn’t the only one to feel that way. “You have to believe me, sheriff. Max said nothing like that to me.”
“Just the same. You mark my words. At some point soon, he’s gonna search you out and start a conversation about how things are going here.” After a moment, the sheriff opened a drawer of his desk and removed a large iron key and tossed it to Charlie. “That key fits that door and all the cell doors. Open it up. You might as well see it all.”
Charlie turned the key in the lock on the heavy door and pulled the handle. The heavy metal hinges creaked in agonized rebellion over being pried open. The two men walked down the hallway inspecting the six cells. Four were empty. They stopped in front of one cell and Charlie noticed a wiry man in dirty clothes sound asleep on the cot.
“That’s Logan. He’s sort of a regular here. He’s mostly harmless. Two or three times a week I have to pick him off the street and bring him here to sleep it off. When he wakes up, I turn him loose.”
They walked to the next cell where a titan of a man stood staring back at them through the bars. Charlie stepped back at the sight of him.
“Now this here is --”
“-- one of the Mitchell brothers.”
“You know this fella?” the sheriff asked.
“I know who he is. I met him and his brother about six, seven months ago at Max’s. Is this John or Warren?”
“I don’t know. They look so much alike, ya can’t tell one from the other. And this ape won’t tell me. In fact, he won’t say nothing.”
“Why’s he here?” Charlie asked.
“He beat down a man over on The Row. Kept pounding him with a chunk of wood. I got there just shy of too late. He would’ve killed him if I hadn’t stopped him.”
“How’d you stop a hulk like that?”
“Shotgun. You fire off a shotgun blast and right away you got everyone’s attention. Once you aim it at him, he gets a little calmer looking down them barrels. You got a shotgun?”
Charlie shook his head. “No, not yet.”
“Well, until you get your own, you can carry one of them on the rack behind my desk.” He looked at Charlie. “You’ll most likely need it.” Charlie followed him out to the office, closed and locked the hallway door and handed the key back to the sheriff.
“Does Max know he’s here?”
Sheriff Hart chuckled as he returned the key to the drawer. “Oh, yeah. He knew the minute I locked him up. He, of course, wants me to let him out. Claimed he was acting in self-defense.” The sheriff snorted a laugh. “Can you imagine anybody in their right mind starting a fight with a gorilla like that? I told Max I’d let the circ
uit judge decide what to do with him.”
“I imagine Max wasn’t too happy with that answer.”
“You’re right. The only reason I’m keeping him here is just to needle Max.” The sheriff smiled. “Truth is, that boy’ll walk away. I know it, Max knows it, everybody knows it. Max will pay off whoever he needs to and that Mitchell boy will go home.”
“When is the circuit judge coming here?”
“Should be anytime, now. He was supposed to be here a few days ago, but with this war goin’ on, you never know.” Sheriff Hart sat down behind his desk, leaned back in his chair and set his feet on his desk. “That’s how things are here. In some situations, our hands are tied to Max. Mitchell is one of them.”
Charlie shook his head. “That’s not right.”
“Right ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. Most of the time things happening in this town ain’t got nothin’ to do with Max. We deal with some small-time robberies, fights, drunks, things like that. Max expects us to keep the peace.”
“With his laws?” Charlie interjected.
The sheriff paused and looked at Charlie. A smile crept across his lips and he nodded. “Yeah, his laws. You catch on quick.” He stood, put on his hat and grabbed his shotgun. “The way we keep order here is to keep a presence on the street, just to let folks see we’re around. Let’s take a walk.”
“You the only one here?”
“Right now. Including you, I now got four deputies. You’ll meet the others later. Got one fella stays here all night long, and another that comes in around sunset. Most of our troubles happen at nighttime.” The sheriff opened a lower drawer in his desk and pulled out a badge that he tossed to Charlie. “First things first, though. Raise your right hand.”
Charlie raised his hand and the sheriff administered the oath of office.
Charlie was now officially a deputy sheriff in Fort Smith. He pinned the badge to his vest and, even though he didn’t want the job, a sense of pride and responsibility flowed through him. It seemed funny to Charlie that a simple piece of metal could change one’s attitude. He followed Sheriff Hart out the door and the two walked around town greeting everyone they passed. They stopped for short visits at many businesses on their way.
He kept thinking about Max. It gnawed at him that one man had so much control over a town, its people... and him. Something in the back of his mind kept telling him to let it go and let history run its course. But Charlie rarely paid attention to the back of his mind.
51
The Law
The circuit judge arrived two days after Charlie became a deputy and, as the sheriff predicted, dismissed all charges against the Mitchell boy. Max didn’t bother showing up for the hearing.
Fort Smith was a rather sedate town and the crimes and problems were minimal. Charlie attributed this to the fact that most of the men were off to war. Any troubles that occurred usually centered on a three-block area by the waterfront called The Row. This was where the city centralized the bordellos and allowed them to legally operate. Prostitution outside of that area was illegal and the participants were arrested and heavily fined.
Wherever there were dens of soiled doves, there were shady saloons nearby where they served cheap whiskey for a quick drunk. These attracted gambling, and low-life who did a lot of hard drinking. All of which usually brought trouble. Those problems were handled by the two night deputies. Charlie had little to do with that area during the daytime.
The next few weeks were uneventful for Charlie. He spent every day at the sheriff’s office. Not because he had to, but because he chose to. The days he had off were spent thinking of the many ways he could affect history if he got involved with something or someone he shouldn’t. So, he did nothing. It was better for him to be occupied at the sheriff’s office than left on his own. Boredom brought about too great a temptation to time jump and visit other eras where he might cause a problem.
Charlie spent his days walking around town and visiting the businesses. The more he was seen around town, the better he became known to the merchants and citizens. He still felt pride in his position and enjoyed the respect and attention he received.
On one particular day in the third week of May, Charlie noticed a large crowd gathered outside the telegraph office and thought there must be something big happening. Usually, a crowd of this size would gather for the results of a battle and to hear the casualty list read by the operator. He thought it sad that a lot of the waiting women wore their mourning outfits… just in case they received bad news. He wondered which battle was being fought.
He didn’t have to wonder long. Up to this point, he had neither seen nor heard from Max. That is, until he burst into the sheriff’s office waving a handwritten sheet of paper.
“Did ya hear?” Max exclaimed.
“Hear what?” Sheriff Hart asked.
“Vicksburg!” Max said with a smile. “General Grant attacked Vicksburg twice and our boys drove ‘em back both times. Grant pulled his armies back. Vicksburg is safe! My boy is safe!”
Vicksburg? The siege is beginning, Charlie thought. He knew the ground attack was just a prelude to a massive naval and artillery bombardment that would begin in the next few days and continue for weeks. He didn’t want to dash Max’s exuberance, so he didn’t mention anything about it.
“That’s great news,” Charlie said, trying to sound sincere. “How do you know Edmund is safe?”
Max smiled. “Confederate casualty list is very short and Edmund’s name wasn’t on it.”
“Well, God bless General Pemberton for keeping them boys safe,” Sheriff Hart said with no emotion and just a hint of sarcasm. The disdain he felt toward Max hung in the air like a fog.
There was a silent moment as Max stared at the sheriff sitting behind his desk. He took a step toward Hart. Charlie sensed an explosive confrontation brewing, so he jumped in to avert it. “So! Did you come here just to tell us your good news? Or was there something else?”
Max looked at Charlie and nodded. “I wanted to see how you were doing. I hadn’t heard from you since you started here.”
Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t know I had to check in with you,” he said with his own bit of sarcasm. Before Max could respond, he continued. “So far, things are going well. Still learning the job.”
“How was your time with Dave?”
“It was good. Dave doesn’t like visitors. But we managed to work through that.”
“Are you doing okay here?”
“Oh, yeah. George is a good teacher. I’m learning a lot.”
Max looked at the sheriff for a moment and then back to Charlie. “Learn well.” He opened the front door and, before he left, turned back to Charlie. “I’m on my way to The Main for lunch. I’ll be in their saloon afterwards. Come see me. I got something I want you to do for me.” He exited.
Charlie sat on the stool and stared at the closed door as if Max’s spirit still lingered there. “I wonder what that could be.”
“Whatever it is, it sure won’t be right… legal or not.”
“What should I do?” Charlie asked, unsure of what Max wanted.
“He used to bark at me about things like that. I won’t do his dirty work for him anymore. I’m sure that’s why he put you here.”
Charlie didn’t respond. He walked to the window and looked out at Walnut Street. He kept wondering how he had gotten himself into this situation.
The sheriff watched him. “You’d be smart by doin’ what he tells ya… at least for now. It’s safer.”
Charlie smiled and nodded. He spent the next two hours worrying about what Max might want from him.
A little while after lunch, Charlie walked through the lobby of The Main Hotel and entered their elegantly appointed saloon. Max sat at a table against the far wall with two well-dressed men. Charlie slowly approached them, not knowing whether he should interrupt their conversation. Max saw him, waved him to the table and motioned for him to sit in the only empty chair.
“Charlie, this is Mayor Dietrich and Councilman Hardy.”
“Pleased to meet you gentlemen,” Charlie replied as he shook their hands.
“You want a drink?” Max asked.
“No, I’m working. Maybe later.”
Max snickered. He looked at the mayor and the councilman. “See? What’d I tell you. Honest and conscientious to the core.” They all looked and smiled at Charlie.
Charlie got uncomfortable. He felt like he was being shown off for some reason. “What’s this all about, Max?” he finally asked.
Max gave a nod to the others. The two gentlemen excused themselves, bid a farewell to Charlie and left the saloon leaving Charlie and Max alone at the table.
“So, you and the mayor are on pretty friendly terms, huh?” Charlie began.
“Mathew Dietrich and I go way back. He came here about the same time I did. We made this town. He’s got some pretty solid business interests here, just like I do. We’d like to keep them safe and secure. You understand what I mean?”
Charlie shook his head. “Sure. I just asked a question, is all.” There was a pause. “So I go back to my original question. What’s this all about?”
“Charlie, I got a job for you this evening.” Charlie waited silently for Max to continue. “There’s an abolitionist in town stirring up trouble. The mayor is worried. So is the council. We can’t have that kind of trouble here. It’s bad for the city and bad for business.”
“What trouble? I haven’t noticed any trouble.”
“They’re having a meeting this evening at the cotton warehouse. In this town there’s strong feelings on both sides of this slave issue. I can’t have any strangers comin’ in here and getting folks all riled up. Might start a riot and we can’t have that. I want you to be there and close down that meeting before it starts.”