“Friction isn’t quite the way to put it. These men were heavily armed. They threatened Mr. Hardin’s life.”
John Fielding nodded. “I suspect that before we’re through it will continue to get worse. We’ve had negative reports even from Common Europe. These new bulk carriers will ferry a mobile home across the Atlantic for as little as a hundred dollars. Already, whole towns are going over to Spain, Italy and Greece, in particular. The Italians are considering laws to curb them, but merchants and other elements that profit by tourism are resisting.”
Dean Armanruder said, “What are you going to do?”
“About Mr. Hardin’s adventure? What can we do? We’ll protest to the Mexican tourism authorities but, actually, you have very little in the way of evidence to present and evidently aren’t getting much in the way of support from the local police in acquiring more. Frankly, I’m inclined to think it a bluff. A small number of malcontents who wished to throw a scare into you. The moment one of them actually fired a shot, the Mexican police would be on them like a flash.”
“I hope you’re right,” Bat muttered.
Dean Armanruder made the standard goodbyes and flicked the set off.
Bat said, “I got the impression that these fellows are tougher than President Fielding seems to think.”
Armanruder flicked the set on again and said, “New Woodstock, Mr. Blake, Mr. Stryn, Doctor Barnes, Mr. Terwilliger, Mr. Prager.” He touched the control on the screen so that he could see all five faces at once.
When they appeared, he said, “Emergency meeting of the executive committee, gentlemen. Could you come at once to my home?”
When the executive committee had all assembled, Dean Armanruder had them seated in the salon. Jim Blake, the town’s most successful artist, financially speaking, at least; Dag Stryn, also an artist and the guru of the town’s New Temple movement; Doctor Barnes; Phil Terwilliger, who represented the retired element in New Woodstock, and Sam Prager, who more or less represented the mechanics and other workers in town. Miss Paskov, in all her full glory now, sat to one side, Bat to the other, of the retired corporation manager.
Dean Armanruder told the story himself, rather than Bat, but when it was over the questions were fired at the town’s patrolman.
Sam Prager said, “How many were there, Bat?”
“I’m not sure. I saw only four. I heard the voices of at least three more. There might have been twenty, for all I know. Or more.”
Old man Terwilliger said, his voice on the fearful side, “You think they were bluffing?”
Bat shook his head. “No. I could be wrong, but no.”
“But why New Woodstock?” Dag Stryn said slowly. “The mobile towns that are really bothering them are the big ones that remain in one spot. I can see a certain amount of validity in their objecting to twenty thousand or so mobile houses parked in sites about, say, Acapulco. But New Woodstock is only some five hundred homes and on its way through, at that. It seems unlikely that we’ll remain in Mexico for even a month.”
Bat said, “They claimed that we were conspicuous because New Woodstock is an art colony composed of objectionable Bohemians, and they want to raise an international stink, a cause c egraqve;lébre. However, I suspect there’s another angle. We’re small as towns go. We have, for instance, one full-time cop, one deputy, a couple of emergency assistant deputies. But if they were tangling with a town ten times or more our size, they’d run into considerably more trouble. Besides, we’re off on the byways, on roads unpatrolled by the Mexican highway police. The big towns stick to the ultra-expressways where they wouldn’t be vulnerable.”
Terwilliger said, “I think we ought to go back.”
“Certainly not,” Jim Blake said heatedly. “What are we, a bunch of sissies? Bat is probably right. There’s only five or six Mexican soreheads involved. Let’s just call on the police.”
“We already did,” Bat said. “They didn’t answer.”
Blake said, “We’ll call in the American authorities, then. We’re all American citizens.”
“I’m not,” Sam Prager said. “I’m a Canadian, but the thing is, we’re in Mexico and under the jurisdiction of the Mexican authorities even if this is a predominantly American mobile town.”
“We can issue a complaint to the American Consulate or Embassy in Mexico City.”
“If we ever get to Mexico City,” Bat said lowly.
The elderly Phil Terwilliger said, “I vote to turn back, before it’s too late. I’m retired and have only a few years of life left to me. I have no intention of having the period shortened by desperate men shooting at me. And I also have my wife to consider.”
“I’ll vote to go back too,” Dag Stryn said. “I’ll continue if the rest of you so decide, but it seems these people do not want us and if so we shouldn’t intrude on them.”
Dean Armanruder said, “A very small number, perhaps, don’t want us but for that matter quite a few Americans in our own country don’t like the mobile towns and cities. We can’t please everyone. I vote to go on.”
“I vote to go on,” Jim Blake said loudly.
“So do I,” Sam Prager said.
Doctor Barnes said, “At this point, they have done nothing except issue their ultimatum to Bat, here. Until we have evidence that they are really as determined as they say, I also vote to go on.”
“The vote is four to two,” Dean Armanruder said. “We will proceed. I suggest that the whole matter be kept confined to us here, there is no use alarming the possibly more timid elements in New Woodstock.”
“Wait a minute,” Bat said. “This isn’t a matter for the executive committee to decide alone. You can’t expose everyone to a possible danger without their even knowing about it. This is a matter of convening the assembly of New Woodstock. If we vote on such trivial matters as whether or not to stop for lunch, we certainly should vote on something as important as this.”
Dean Armanruder looked at him disgustedly. “Your opinion is not needed, Hardin. As town police officer you have a voice but not a vote in this executive committee.”
Bat said evenly, “And this is not a town that subscribes to one dollar, one vote, Mr. Armanruder. The opinion of any adult in town is just as valid as yours. As town police officer I demand a convening of the assembly.”
“Bat’s right,” Sam Prager said. “It isn’t up to us to decide, we’ll have to call the assembly.”
Doc Barnes nodded. “Obviously. I’m afraid it’s going to mean a splitting up of the town. But we can’t take innocent people into possible gunfire or other danger without giving them the opportunity of debating and voting on it.”
X
While Nadine Paskov and Dean Armanruder were going through the routine of summoning the assembly of all residents of New Woodstock over the age of eighteen, Bat Hardin strolled back toward his vehicle in the company of Dag Stryn.
He glanced over at the other from the side of his eyes. “You know, one of their beefs about Americans was your new religious movement, the New Temple.”
“Oh? How is that?”
“One of them called it a no-religion and complained that the simpler people, here in Mexico, enviously noted that the affluent Americans were tending in your direction. The obvious implication is that if they supported the same religion perhaps they, too, would be wealthy.”
The big Norwegian chuckled. “No-religion, eh? Well, in a way I suppose he was right. I see the New Temple as teaching a code somewhere between that of the old Unitarian-Universalists and the Quakers, but I have heard it said that it was the nearest thing to an Agnostic Church that had ever been organized.” He chuckled again. “If you could say that the New Temple was organized. Actually it’s the most chaotic organization going.”