Chapter 15: Respite

Harley nodded, "Can you tell me what the car looked like?" he asked.

"Oh, no problem there at all, it looked just like Banker Teel's new Cadillac sedan with four doors and black leather upholstery. I couldn't see the driver, but the passenger looked to be a colored of some kind."

Harley smiled, "Milt," he said, "You saw Banker Teel's car. He was driving it and here is where you have to larn ... learn to be close-mouthed. The banker has some black nookie he romances on the sly. In this job you're going to find out a whole lot about people you never suspected they was up to. You just keep your mouth shut about what you see unless a law is being broken. I was city marshal for only a short while and I saw all kinds of things. Just keep your mouth shut.

"Oh," he added, "Milt, I like the way you was able to describe car so well. If it had been a no-good, we would know what to look for. You're going to make a fine marshal, I figure.

"Milt blushed when he heard the praise. He nodded his head and answered quietly, "Thanks."

"The reason I was asking about a car hanging around the bank is I heard there was somebody parked in the alley early this morning and I wanted to be sure it ain't ah, isn't a problem we have to deal with. You know, like somebody fixing to break in or something."

Elspeth came bustling in, "There is a very important man out here to see you, Chief Duran, sir." She looked up at Harley with soft doe-eyes and sighed. She had a crush on the big man. Harley was unaware of her infatuation.

"Elspeth, why can't you call me Harley like everybody else does? And we'll all call you Elly. Then we don't have to have all those fancy titles that don't no how mean anything." He smiled at her and nodded his head yes. It caused her to nod yes back at him.

"You just tell this 'important man' to come on back and we'll talk to him." She nodded and fled.

Within a minute, a tall, over six foot, slender, well dressed stranger came in and introduced himself. "I'm James Stanley from the Oklahoma Central committee for the Democratic Party. I must say you've played hell with our plans for this end of the state." Although he had a smile on his thin lips, it never reached his eyes. He stuck out his hand and Harley took it, giving it a perfunctory shake and releasing it. The man's appearance and manner made Harley think of a sleek, well-fed snake.

"Now what plans would this be you all have for this end of the state?" he asked the stranger. He cocked his head to one side and watched the stranger as well as listened to him.

"Well, in one fell swoop you sent our man to the hospital and killed his two assistants, the Beaudine brothers. Jean was our man calling the shots in this county. Now the Republicans will start think they can regain the ground they lost around here in these parts. We can't have it." He spoke to Harley as if he was speaking to a child. Milt and Leroy both held their breath, expecting a becoming more famous by the day explosion.

Instead Harley asked very mildly, "What about the people hereabouts? Shouldn't they have a little say in all these great plans you have for them?"

Stanley made a dismissive gesture, "The people. What do they have to do with anything? We tell them how to vote. We decide what's best for this state and this country, not the people." He actually curled his well-bred lip at the mention of the common voters.

"Well, Mister Stanley, here in this room are three people who will vote or not vote their own way without any help from you and your party." He pointed to the door, "I think you better get out of here and right now. The people in this end of the' state don't need any help from you all. Beat it.

The man's eyes glittered, giving him even more the appearance of a well-groomed snake. "You don't know what you're letting yourself in for. The machine in this state is a well oiled machine, don't think we're going to allow you to throw any sand to get in the gears." He left.

"Well, boys, it looks like we got the Democrats pissed off at us as well." Harley grinned and shook his head in mock concern. "Now who else is there?"

"I vote Republican, "Milt told him," So I don't care."

Leroy grinned and said, "Hell, I never voted in my life so I don't give a damn either."

"Well, I believe he spells trouble for us, one way or another," He looked at Milt and Leroy and asked, "Speaking of trouble, we need more police. Where we going to get them?"

Leroy spoke first, "Why don't we hire a colored to take care of the colored part of town? He'd know what was happening around there more than we would. I know one such man I'd suggest for the job. His name's Leo White."

Although this had been done on a limited scale in the larger eastern cities, usually using unarmed blacks, Harley was doubtful it would succeed in a small community like Woodman. "I don't know, Leroy. I sure would like to do it but I don't think the whites would go for it. Arming a colored feller with a gun would scare the hell out of a lot of these old farts around this neck of the woods.

"Well, think on this, Harley, there ain't ... isn't a colored feller down there in the Sand Bar who doesn't have a straight edge razor in his hip pocket or pinned up in the lapel of his suit coat. Most of them have snub nose thirty-twos or twenty-twos in ankle holsters or tucked away in their waistbands. So what's the difference?"

"Well, the main difference is if we give a badge to a colored man and tell him to carry a gun, all those old biddies will just scream we're just inviting rape and mayhem."

Milt asked, "Harley, what if you hire one black man and have him go armed at work and take his gun off when he ain't working? Then just spread the word he's a "pet nigger" kind of. I think it would satisfy most of the peckerwoods who need something to worry about."

"Milt, your idea sounds good to me," Leroy said, "But I'd suggest you get people to think of him as a 'man of color who is grateful for this chance to serve the white community as a 'watch dog' sort of."

"Leroy," Harley laughed, "Learning all them new words is fillin' your, uh, filling your head with some strange ideas. But I think you just hit the nail right on the head. Who you got in mind?"

"I also figure the colored man name of Leo White would be just what the doctor ordered. The man has self-respect and brains. Also, he runs the only honest crap game down on the Sand Bar."

"Okay, Leroy, tell him to come in and talk to me," Harley said. "Milt, you know anybody we might be able to use?"

"Well, there is a man who was driving corn whiskey for the late sheriff. He made deliveries between here and Enid, mostly. He's got to be the toughest man I ever met, next to you Harley. He's honest and don't chase around on his wife. And he needs a job; he's got a family to feed.

The feds took his car away from him so he's looking for whatever he can find. His name's Ed Green. His son Bertie is a hard case of sorts. But he'd charge the gates of Hell with a mouth full of spit to put the fire out if he took the notion."

"Well, I rather have them with us as against us. Tell him and his son Bertie to come in and talk to me. We still need us three or four more men at the very least. But what we want are men who won't go off half-cocked. We don't need bully boys, but people who are family men. We already got too many of the others still around here.

"So you go on about your business and I'll go see if I can get me a telephone installed at my house." Harley left the room.

He stopped at the front desk and asked Ellie, "You know how to get a telephone hooked up? I need one at my house."

"Oh yes sir, Harley, sir," she answered brightly, "I'll call and get it installed for you today."

He looked at her, "You mean all there is to it is I ask you and you take care of it?" She nodded. "Well, why didn't someone tell me it was so easy?"

"Well, I guess because you never asked. One of my other uncles and two cousins work for the telephone company. I'll call Aunt Mildred and she'll take care of everything else."

"I guess hiring family ain't so bad after all." He walked out of the station, shaking his head, and headed toward his car. He drove to the Moore's house and stopped.

Brother Moore was just coming out the door as he got there. "Oh, Brother Duran. I was just coming to see you."

Harley got out and shook the man's hand. "Why was you coming to see me, trouble?"

"Oh no, but Sister Moore and I were concerned about how all the violence you have been subjected to has affected you."

"Well, preacher, I got to admit its starting to wear me down. Every time I hear a noise at night I think its new trouble coming at me and my family. What is the matter with these people around here they let all these no goods just take over?"

The minister placed a hand on the big man's elbow. To Brother Moore, it felt as if he had grabbed hold of a tree limb. Physically there was nothing soft about Harley Duran. His softness, what little there was had been mostly reserved for his wife and child. "Harley," he began, "Most people are not as you are. They do not have your inner strength and your ability to face whatever comes and fight it. People would rather compromise and hope the trouble, whatever it might be, will go away."

"Well, why would they do that? If you run today, then you got to keep running tomorrow and the next day. If you face whatever you got to face today, it saves wear and tear on you tomorrow. He shook his head in exasperation.

"You are stronger than most people, Harley," the minister told him in a gentle voice. You are the strongest man I ever met. I don't mean your physical strength, which is immense, but your inner strength. Harley, if you don't look out, you are going to be governor of this state." He was only half joking when he said it. Then he asked, "What is it you were coming to see me about?"

"Oh I just wanted another lesson in talking right," he answered, "But if you're too busy..." he let his voice trail off.

"Harley, this is just one example of what I have been saying in my own overly articulate manner, "You have been threatened, shot at and seen more violence in the past month than most people could see in two life times. But you still find time for what most people would consider a trivial matter, under the circumstances."

"If you mean I have my own set pace to do things, I guess you're right. But I got so much to do."

"Very well, for the rest of this week, pay special attention to everything you say. Instead of saying 'runnin' say runn-ing. Also include play-ing, work-ing and so forth. Basically you have a good instinctive grasp of the English language, you merely need to be less idiomatic."

"What's this have to do with idiots?" Harley asked, frowning.

"Oh no. 'Idiom" means you speak a dialect, a variation of the English tongue. You say, 'ain't' instead of 'isn't, ' for instance. This is idiomatic speech."

Harley smiled, "Damn. Just listening uh listen-ing to you is a pure dee revelation. I already have been trying to watch the ends of my words. But it takes so much effort."

Moore's face turned solemn, "Harley, there is one thing I do believe you should do. If you will forgive my meddling, I feel it would be incumbent upon you to say a few words in church this Sunday. I have also spoken to the other ministers here in this community and they would like for you to speak to their congregations as well. You need to reassure people you are not just another Lester Beaudine. People are beginning to hope, but they are a bit afraid as well. Could you do it?"

"Well, yes, I could, what should I say? I never talked in front of people before."

"You remember how you responded when everybody laughed and said they would vote for you? Just keep it in mind. You'll do just fine, I'm sure."

"Well, okay, if you say so." Harley shook the preacher's hand once more and got back in his car and left. He wasn't too certain he was up to making a speech in front of people. The next few days seemed to be a respite.

On the following Friday at noon he headed home, hoping there would be no problems there. There weren't. Ida Mae was swinging in her tire swing and singing to the new doll her father had bought for her.

Ida Marie was mopping the kitchen floor. "Harley, honey, we need a dog." She greeted him with a kiss and a hug.

He carefully and slowly said, "Well, okay, if you feel you want one. But what kind do you have in mind we need?" He looked at her trying to fathom what prompted the idea.

"Harley, I want a big mean one that barks loud, bites hard and won't back up from nobody."