Boy's Life (58 page)

     “Yes,” the sheriff said.

     “Yes what?”

     “I did. Polish his boots.” Sheriff Amory gave a wan, tired smile. His eyes were black holes of sadness and regret. His smile slipped off, leaving his mouth twisted with pain. “I always went to Biggun’s house to get my money. He had it for me, first day of the month. Two hundred dollars in a white envelope with my name on it. ‘Sheriff Junior.’ That’s what he calls me.” He winced a little at the thought. “When I went in that day, all the boys were there: Donny, Bodean, and Wade. Biggun was oilin’ a rifle. Even sittin’ in a chair, he can fill up a room. He can look at you and knock you down. I picked up my envelope, and all of a sudden he reaches to the floor and puts his muddy boots on the table, and he says, ‘Sheriff Junior, I’ve got me a mess here to clean up and I don’t rightly feel up to doin’ it. You think you could clean ’em for me?’ And I started to say no, but he takes a fifty-dollar bill out of his shirt pocket and he puts it down inside one of them big boots, and he says, ‘Make it worth your while, of course.’”

     “Don’t tell me this, J.T.,” Dad said.

     “I want to. I have to.” The sheriff peered into the fire, and I could see the flames make light and shadows ripple across his face. “I told Biggun I had to go, that I couldn’t be cleanin’ anybody’s boots. And he grins and says, ‘Aw, Sheriff Junior, why didn’t you name your price right off?’ and he takes another fifty-dollar bill out of his pocket and he slides it down into the other boot.” Sheriff Amory looked at the fingers of his traitorous right hand. “My girls needed new clothes,” he said. “Needed some Sunday shoes, with bows on ’em. Needed somethin’ that wasn’t already worn out by somebody else. So I earned myself an extra hundred dollars. But Biggun knew I’d be comin’ that day, and he… he’d been stompin’ around in filth. When his boots were clean, I went outside and threw up, and I heard the boys laughin’ in the house.” His eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds, and then they opened again. “I took my girls to the finest shoestore in Union Town, and I bought Lucinda a bouquet of flowers. It wasn’t just for her; I wanted to smell somethin’ sweet.”

     “Did Lucinda know about this?” Dad asked.

     “No. She thought I’d gotten a raise. You know how many times I’ve asked Mayor Swope and that damn town council for a raise, Tom? You know how many times they’ve said, ‘We’ll put it in the budget next year, J.T.’?” He gave a bitter laugh. “Good ol’ J.T.! Ol’ J.T. can make do, or do without! He can stretch a dime until Roosevelt hollers, and he don’t need no raise because what does he do all day? Ol’ J.T. drives around in his sheriff’s car and he sits behind his desk readin’
True Detective
and he maybe breaks up a fight now and then or chases down a lost dog or keeps two neighbors from squabblin’ over a busted fence. Every blue moon there’s a robbery, or a shootin’, or somethin’ like that car goin’ down into Saxon’s Lake. But it’s not like good ol’ harmless J.T.’s a
real
sheriff, don’t you see? He’s just kind of a long, slumpy thing with a star on his hat, and nothin’ much ever happens in Zephyr that he should be gettin’ a raise, or a half-decent gasoline allowance, or a bonus every once in a while. Or maybe a pat on the back.” His eyes glittered with feverish anger. I realized, as my parents did, that we had not known Sheriff Amory’s hidden anguish. “Damn,” he said. “I didn’t mean to come in here and spill all my belly juice like this. I’m sorry.”

     “If you felt this way so long,” Mom said, “why didn’t you just quit?”

     “Because… I liked bein’ the sheriff, Rebecca. I liked knowin’ who was doin’ what to who, and why. I liked havin’ people depend on me. It was… like bein’ a father and big brother and best friend all rolled up into one. Maybe Mayor Swope and the town council don’t respect me, but the people of Zephyr do.
Did
, I mean. That’s why I kept at it, even though I should’ve walked away from it a long time ago. Before Biggun Blaylock called me in the middle of the night and said he had a proposition for me. Said his businesses don’t hurt anybody. Said they make people feel better. Said he wouldn’t be in business to begin with if people didn’t come lookin’ for what he was sellin’.”

     “And you believed him. My God, J.T.!” Dad shook his head in disgust.

     “There was more. Biggun said if he and his boys weren’t in business, the Ryker gang would move in from the next county, and I’ve heard those fellas are stone-cold killers. Biggun said that by acceptin’ his money I might be shakin’ hands with the devil, but the devil I knew was better than the devil I didn’t know. Yeah, I believed him, Tom. I still believe him.”

     “So you knew where his hideout was all along. And there you were makin’ everybody believe you couldn’t find hide nor hair of him.”

     “That’s right. It’s near where Cory and the boys saw that box change hands. I honestly don’t know what was inside it, but I do know Gerald Hargison and Dick Moultry are Klansmen from way back. But now I’m a sinner and slime of the earth and I’m not fit to walk the streets with decent people.” Sheriff Amory directed his hard gaze at my dad. “I don’t need to be told I’ve messed things up, Tom. I know I was wrong. I know I’ve shamed the office of sheriff. And shamed my family, which is killin’ me when people I thought were our good friends look at Lucinda and the girls like they crawled out of a spittoon. Like I say, we’ll be leavin’ town before long. But I’ve got one last duty to perform as the elected sheriff of Zephyr.”

     “What might that be? Openin’ the bank vault for Biggun?”

     “No,” the sheriff said quietly. “Makin’ sure Donny goes to prison for murder. Manslaughter, at the very least.”

     “Oh,” Dad said, and I know he must’ve felt an inch tall. But he grew back quickly enough. “What’s Biggun gonna think about that? After he’s been payin’ you to lay off?”

     “Biggun didn’t pay me to protect a killer. And that’s what Donny is. I just thank God he didn’t kill Miss Grace, too. I knew Stevie Cauley. He might’ve been a tough guy, and he had his share of scrapes with me, but he was decent. His folks are good people, too. So I’m not gonna let Donny slither out of this, Tom. No matter what Biggun threatens me with.”

     “Has he threatened you?” Mom asked as Dad stood up to shift a fireplace log with the poker.

     “Yes. Warned me, is more like it.” Sheriff Amory’s brows merged, the lines between his eyes deepening. “Day after tomorrow, two marshals from the county seat are comin’ on the Trailways bus. It’s bus number thirty-three, and it comes in at noon. I’m to have all the transfer papers ready, and they’re gonna take custody of Donny.”

     The Trailways bus came through Zephyr every other day, on its way to Union Town. On rare occasions it stopped, under the little Trailways sign at the Shell gas station on Ridgeton Street, to pick up or disgorge a passenger or two. But most days it sped on, going somewhere else.

     “I found a little black book in a pocket under the driver’s seat of Donny’s car,” the sheriff explained. Dad fed another log into the fire, but he was listening. “It’s got names and numbers in it that I think have to do with gamblin’ on high school football games. Some names are in there that might surprise you. Not Zephyr people, but names you might know from the newspapers if you keep up with politics. I think the Blaylocks might have been payin’ a coach or two to throw games.”

     “My Lord!” Mom breathed.

     “Those two marshals are comin’ to pick up Donny, and I’ve gotta make sure he’s there to meet ’em.” Sheriff Amory ran a finger along the edge of his star. “Biggun says he’ll kill me before he lets me put his son on that bus. I figure he means to, Tom.”

     “He’s bluffin’!” Dad said. “Tryin’ to scare you into lettin’ Donny go!”

     “This mornin’ there was somethin’ dead on our front porch. I think… it might’ve been a cat. But it was all chopped to pieces and the blood was smeared everywhere and on our front door was written
Donny won’t go
in cat’s blood. You should’ve seen the girls’ faces when they saw that mess.” Sheriff Amory lowered his head for a moment, and stared at the floor. “I’m scared. Awful scared. I think Biggun’s gonna try to kill me and spring Donny out of jail before that bus comes in.”

     “I’d be more afraid those damned snakes would go after Lucinda and the girls,” Mom said, and I knew she was heated up about it because she hardly ever cursed.

     “I sent ’em to Lucinda’s mother this mornin’, after what happened. She called me around two o’clock, said they’d gotten there fine.” He lifted his face and looked at my father with a tortured expression. “I need help, Tom.”

     Sheriff Amory went on to explain that he needed three or four men to deputize, and that they’d all spend tonight, tomorrow, and tomorrow night at the jail guarding Donny.

     He said he’d deputized Jack Marchette, who was at the jail pulling guard duty right this minute, but that he was having trouble finding anybody else. He’d asked ten men, he said, and been turned down ten times. It would be dangerous work, he said. The deputies would each get fifty dollars out of his own pocket, and that was all he could afford to pay. But there were pistols and ammunition at the jailhouse, and the jailhouse itself was as firm as a fortress. The tricky part, he said, would be taking Donny from his cell to the bus stop.

     “That’s the story.” Sheriff Amory gripped his bony knees. “Can I deputize you, Tom?”

      “
No!
” Mom’s voice almost shook the windows. “Are you out of your mind?”

     “I’m sorry to have to ask this of Tom, Rebecca. I swear I am. But it’s got to be done.”

     “Ask somebody else, then! Not Tom!”

     “Can I get your answer?” the sheriff urged.

     Dad stood next to the fireplace, the logs crackling. His eyes went from Sheriff Amory to Mom and back again, with a quick dart toward me. He slid his hands into his pockets, his face downcast. “I… don’t know what to say.”

     “You know what’s right, don’t you?”

     “I do. But I know I don’t believe in violence. I can’t stand the thought of it. Especially… not the way I’ve been feelin’ for the last few months. Like I’m walkin’ on eggshells with an anvil strapped to my back. I know I couldn’t pull a trigger and shoot anybody. I know that for a fact.”

     “You wouldn’t have to carry a gun, then. I wouldn’t expect you to. Just be there to show Biggun he can’t get away with murder.”

     “Unless the Blaylocks murder all of you!” Mom fairly leaped from her chair. “No! Tom’s been under a lot of stress lately, and he’s not in any physical or mental shape to—”

     “Rebecca!” Dad snapped. She hushed. “I can speak for myself, thank you,” he said.

     “Just tell me yes, Tom.” Sheriff Amory was pleading now. “That’s all I want to hear.”

     Dad was in pain. I could see its grim mark on his face. He did know what was right, but he was all twisted up and hurting inside, and the chilly hand of the man at the bottom of Saxon’s Lake clutched the back of his neck. “No,” he said, his voice raspy. “I can’t, J.T.”

     May I be forgiven. I thought one word, and that word was
Yellowstreak
. Immediately I was overcome with shame, and my face was burning as I got up and ran to my room.

     “Cory!” Dad called. “Wait a minute!”

     “Well, that’s just fine!” Sheriff Amory stood up, and he plucked his hat from the coffee table and jammed it on his head. The crown was crushed, the silver star awry. “Just damn fine! Everybody wants the Blaylocks put behind bars and they kick my ass for takin’ his dirty money, but when it comes a chance to actually do somethin’ about ’em, everybody and their brother, sister, and uncle runs for the hills! Just damned fine!”

     Dad said, “I wish I could—”

     “Forget it. Stay home. Stay safe. Good night.” Sheriff Amory walked out the door into the cold. The leaves crunched under his shoes, the sound fading. Dad stood at the window and watched him drive away.

     “Don’t worry about him,” Mom said. “He’ll find enough deputies.”

     “What if he doesn’t? What if everybody
does
run for the hills?”

     “Then if this town doesn’t care enough about law and order to help their sheriff, Zephyr deserves to dry up and blow away.”

     Dad turned toward her, his mouth a tight line. “
We’re
Zephyr, Rebecca. You and me. Cory. J.T. The ten men he asked who turned him down, they’re Zephyr, too. It’s people’s souls and caring for each other that dries up and blows away before buildin’s and houses do.”

     “You can’t help him, Tom. You just can’t. If somethin’ happened to you…” She didn’t finish, because that train of thought led to a desolate destination.

     “Maybe he did wrong, but he deserves help. I should’ve said I would.”

     “No, you shouldn’t have. You’re not a fighter, Tom. Those Blaylocks would kill you before you could blink.”

     “Then maybe I shouldn’t blink,” Dad said, his face stony.

     “Just do what J.T. said, Tom. Stay home and stay safe. Okay?”

     “Fine example I’m settin’ for Cory. Did you see the way he looked at me?”

     “He’ll get over it,” Mom said. She made an effort to summon a smile. “How about a nice piece of spice cake and a cup of coffee?”