It was just a shot in the dark, of course. Sort of a double shot. I figured that with this many Pottsville citizens involved, someone was just about bound to be two-timin' his wife, or someone's wife was two-timin' him. Or else he was god-dang suspicious that she was.
Anyways, it sure looked like my shot hit home, because it was the dangest funniest thing you ever seen, the way they acted. All of 'em-or most of 'em, I should say-glaring at each other and trying to keep their heads ducked at the same time. All of 'em accused and accusing.
Mr. Dinwiddie started to ask just whose house I was referring to. But the others gave him a look that shut him up fast.
Robert Lee cleared his throat, and said for me to go on with my story.
"We can assume that you eventually reached the river, and you were there when the fire started. Then, what happened? What were you doing all the time that the rest of us were fighting the blaze?"
"I was trying to catch the fellas that started it," I said. "They came crashing down through the underbrush afterward, trying to get away, and I hollered for 'em to halt, they was under arrest, but it didn't do no good. They kept on running, and I chased 'em, yelling for them to stop or I'd shoot. But I reckon they knew I wouldn't, knew I wouldn't dare to, because they all got away."
Robert Lee wet his lips, hesitating. "Did you see who they were, Nick?"
"Well, let's put it this way," I said. "It don't make much difference whether I know who they were or not. As long as I didn't catch 'em, their names ain't important and it would just cause hard feelin's to say who they was."
"But, Sheriff," Mr. Dinwiddie said. "I don't see, uh-" He broke off, seeing the look that Zeke Carlton gave him. Seeing the looks of the others, his most important depositors.
Because I'd fired another shot in the dark, and it had hit even closer on target than the first one.
With a couple of exceptions, there wasn't a man there that didn't have a grown or a semi-grown son. And there wasn't a one of them young’uns that was worth the powder it'd take to blow their nose. They loafed around town, puttin' up a half-way pretense of working for their daddies. Whoring and drinking and thinking up meanness. Any troubles that broke out, you could bet that either one of 'em or all of 'em was mixed up in it.
The meeting broke up, hardly anyone nodding to me as they left.
I followed Robert Lee out to the walk and we stood talking together for a minute.
"I'm afraid you haven't made yourself any friends tonight, Nick," he told me. "You'll really have to buckle down and work from now on, if you want to stay in office."
"Work?" I scratched my head. "What at?"
"At your job, naturally! What else?" he said, and then his eyes shifted as I stared at him. "All right, perhaps you did have to compromise tonight. Perhaps you'll have to again. But one or two exceptional cases don't justify your doing nothing at all to enforce the law."
"Well, I'll tell you about that, Robert Lee," I said. "Practically every fella that breaks the law has a danged good reason, to his own way of thinking, which makes every case exceptional, not just one or two. Take you, for example. A lot of fellas might think you was guilty of assault and battery when you punched Henry Clay Fanning in-"
"I'll ask you just one question," Robert Lee cut in. "Are you or aren't you going to start enforcing the law?"
"Sure I am," I said. "I sure ain't going to do nothing else but."
"Good, I'm relieved to hear it."
"Yes, sir," I said. "I'm really going to start cracking down. Anyone that breaks a law from now on is goin' to have to deal with me. Providing, o' course, that he's either colored or some poor white trash that can't pay his poll tax."
"That's a pretty cynical statement, Nick!"
"Cynical?" I said. "Aw, now, Robert Lee. What for have I got to be cynical about?"
18
The fire was on late Friday night, and it was almost dawn Saturday before I got home. I scrubbed myself up, and put on some clean clothes. Then I went out into the kitchen, and started to fix breakfast.
Myra came out fuming and fussing, asking me what in the world I was up to. I told her about the fire and how people were criticizin' me, and she shut up fast. Because she didn't want to be an ex-sheriff's wife any more than I wanted to be an ex-sheriff, and she knew I was going to have to do some humpin' or we might be.
She finished cooking breakfast for me. I ate and went downtown.
It being Saturday, all the stores were open extra early, and any farmers that weren't already in town were on their way in. They stood around on the sidewalks, their black cloth hats brushed and cleanlooking, their Sunday shirts fairly clean, and their overalls ranging from middling-dirty to downright filthy.
Their wives wore starched-stiff sunbonnets and Mother Hubbards made out of calico or gingham. Their kids' clothes-except the kids that were old enough for hand-me-downs-were made out of meal sacks, with the faded labels still showing on some of 'em. Men and women, and practically every boy and girl over twelve, were chewing and spitting snuff. The men and boys poured the snuff down inside their lower lip. The women and girls used snuff-sticks, frayed twigs that they dipped in their snuff cans and then put in the corners of their mouths.
I moved around among the men, shakin' hands and slapping backs and telling 'em to just come and see me any time they had a problem. I told all the women that Myra had been askin' about 'em and that they just had to come and see her sometime. And I patted the kids on the head, if their heads weren't too high up, and gave them pennies and nickels, depending on how tall they were.
Naturally, I was busy with the townspeople too, doing my dangdest to make friends or to get back any I'd lost. But I couldn't be sure I did any better with them than I did with the farmers, and I couldn't be sure I did any good with the farmers.
Oh, almost everyone was pleasant, and no one was what you'd call downright unfriendly. But too many of 'em were cautious, kind of cagey when I hinted around at the subject of voting. And if there's one thing I know it's this: a fella that's going to vote for you don't lose much time in declaring himself.
I tried to run a tally in my mind, and it looked to me like the best I could hope for was a near-draw with Sam Gaddis. That was the best, despite all the dirty talk that was going on about him. And if he was that strong now, in spite of the talk, how could I be sure he wouldn't be even stronger in the run-off?
I ate some crackers and cheese for lunch, passing them around amongst the fellas I was talking to.
About two o'clock, I had to go out to the cemetery for Tom Hauck's buryin', but a passel of other folks went, too, by way of amusin' themselves, so you couldn't really say it was a waste of time.
I worked through the supper hour, eating some crackers and sardines and passing them around amongest the fellas I was talking to.