Grant saw Drew at the Grange. He had a crowd around him, as usual. He had several assistants and people wanting to talk to him. He was managing things well, as would be expected from a former senior partner at a large accounting firm. He knew how to direct people and get things done. Grant waved for Drew to come over.
“Hey, Drew, sorry to interrupt you,” Grant said. “You know we started the census a couple weeks ago? We had you and the Team going out and collecting information, which got put on the back burner now that the Team is doing full time law enforcement. Can you get a census crew working on this?” Grant leaned toward Drew and whispered, “Our little list only works if we know who everyone is and where they are.”
Drew nodded. He had 10,000 things to do right then, but he understood why the census was an important thing to get done. And it only needed to be done once and then updated. Drew thought for a minute.
“I have just the person who can spearhead that effort. I presume the census takers are now community volunteers and get to eat at the Grange?” Drew asked, already knowing the answer.
“Of course,” Grant said. Drew made a few notes and then called a helpful volunteer named Dutch Hillenburg. He explained that Dutch had a new job, “Director of the Census,” if he wanted it. He was happy to have something to do. And the meal card was a great thing, too.
Grant kept thinking of things to bring the community together and show the residents that Pierce Point had a functioning government. Well, a very small-scale one. Not the old kind of government, but a new kind, the Patriot way, where people did things for each other by choice instead of coercion. They might be motivated to do these things for each other out of a sense of decency or common interest, even profit. But not out of coercion. A flood of ideas came to him. He started writing them down. He would propose them at the Grange meeting that evening.
The rest of the afternoon flew by. Pretty soon, the Grange ladies were serving dinner, which smelled great. Barbeque salmon and home fries. Grant noticed that when he spent all day doing “office” things at the Grange, instead of going out in the field and walking and carrying his rifle and kit, he was a lot less hungry. He was still hungry, but not ravenous like when he was physically active all day and sometimes all night. That reminded him that he would need to address the issue of whether the guards and constables got more food than others. This wasn’t a problem now when there was enough food, but it would probably become an issue during the winter. Grant would deal with that when, or if, he ever had to.
People started coming into the Grange meeting. Rich and the Team came back from training. Grant grabbed Rich and told him about the ideas he’d come up with that day. Rich loved them and had a few suggestions.
Bobby told Grant about the training with Kyle and the dogs, which was going well. It was a new thing for the Team to learn. They spent a lot of time letting the dogs get to know and trust the Team. That night, after the meeting they were planning to finally give Kyle extensive firearms and movement training. He wouldn’t be a full Team member kicking in doors, but he had to hold his own on the perimeter when he was running the dogs.
With the new faces coming to the meeting came new conversations. Grant was getting to know as many people as possible. He was letting them know about the Patriot way. The Undecideds needed to not only understand with their heads why the Patriot way would work the best. They needed to feel with their hearts that a person like Grant was going to be the one to carry it out. They needed to know and trust Grant, Rich, and the others at the Grange. You couldn’t ask someone to bet their lives on some political philosophy, but people would bet their lives on a trusted person with a reasonable plan. They had to get to know the person, as well as the plan.
“Hello, your Honor,” one elderly lady said to Grant.
“Your Honor?” Grant asked.
“Yes, sir. You’re the judge,” she said.
Grant hadn’t really thought of it that way. He hadn’t had any trials recently and had been spending all his time on the administrative things. He didn’t feel like a judge; he didn’t wear a black robe. Judging wasn’t his career. Being the judge was just one of his many jobs in the overall task of survival out at Pierce Point. But, now being the judge had some social effect. People called him by a title. He didn’t want any social classes out there. Leadership, sure, but not classes.
“Oh, ma’am, I appreciate it, but you can call me Grant,” he said. “What may I call you?” he asked.
“Mrs. Otting,” she said.
She looked Grant right in the eye, like a grandmother does when she’s correcting you. She continued. “No, I can’t call you by your first name. You’re Judge Matson. We have a judge,” she said. She repeated, “We have a judge” and straightened her back to show her pride in that statement.
Grant now realized that she wasn’t calling him by a title for his benefit. She was doing it for her benefit. She needed the normalcy of having a judge. She needed there to be a judge because that’s what civilized societies have. This reinforced his ideas for later in the meeting that would help with the community and provide basic governance suggestions.
“Yes, ma’am,” Grant said. “I’m Judge Matson if that’s what you prefer. Tell me, is it good to have a judge out here?” he asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to verify his theory.
“Yes,” she said. She looked at him in the eye again in that grandmotherly way. “But if you don’t do a good job, we’ll vote you out.”
“Good,” Grant said. “That’s how it should be.” He started to tell her about the Patriot way. She wasn’t interested in that.
She stopped him and told him about Judge Petersen who used to live out there. He died in the 1980s. She said he was a wonderful man, a model of fairness and wisdom.
“I expect the same from you,” she said. Then she softened up her grandmotherly firmness. “I’m so glad we have a judge again. It reminds me of when things were better. Thank you, Judge Matson.”
So that was, indeed, it. Having a judge was a link to the past when things were decent. Having a judge wasn’t just about having a person preside over the community’s sanctions against people breaking their rules. It was a symbol, like all the other symbols Grant would present to the crowd in a few minutes.
It was time to start the meeting. Mrs. Otting said to Grant, “Get to work, your Honor.”
Grant smiled and then got to work.
Chapter 159
“Free To Go”
(July 1)
Rich called the meeting to order. The Grange hall was packed. Every seat was taken and people were standing on the edges of the room. A few were even in the doorway with a short line behind them. There hadn’t been many Grange meetings since the trial. People were busy getting things done before fall and many were burned out from the long debates about the trial. However, tonight was a big planning meeting for the upcoming months.
Rich started off by reporting on the situation at the gate. Things were going well. They had plenty of guards and they were cross-training each other on firearms and first aid. They were working up squad-level verbal commands. They had good communications with the Grange and the Team wherever they might be at any given time.
Paul Colson gave the report on the beach patrol. He was putting his years of experience on the inlet to use, serving as the Chief’s second in command. He had lost a lot of weight, was tan and looked happier than he’d been in years. He spoke confidently, like he’d found his purpose in life. Paul reported that the beach patrol was operating twenty-four hours a day and had plenty of men and women. They had chased off a few suspicious vessels each week. So far, no pirate landings. People speculated that Pierce Point had a reputation as being a bad place to try to loot.