Renewal 4 - Down on the River (2 page)

“Larry, I have to ask. Are there any more shooters aimed at us?”

“Naw... Just my boys here. Most people who come by think four men are too much to take on.”

“What do you need to get back on your feet?”

Larry looked at Bill, openly distrustful.

Bill understood and continued, “Larry, I know how it is in this county, and frankly it’s shameful. Maybe you don’t know that our county government actively steals the relief supplies that occasionally come our way, and then sells them to us at ridiculous prices.”

“Oh, I heard, but when we went to town to ask, we were told that supplies never make it here.”

“Well, sorry Larry, but that’s what they say if they don’t know you, and you don’t look like you can pay.” Bill paused and looked at Larry’s boys.  “You, my friend, don’t look like you can pay.”

Larry looked embarrassed and said, “No, I can’t pay for nothing.”

“Maybe not now, but if you have any decent land, all you need is a leg up, and you’ll be able to pay, right?”

“Yeah, but there’s never been a leg up. My daddy was the third Harris to farm my land, and he always said that if we still had banks around, he wouldn’t be able to leave it to me. Seems like we’ve been in debt for a hundred years.”

“My dad wasn’t a farmer, but he told me that same thing, about how bad it had gotten for family farms, and how so many of them died in debt. The kids had to sell the land to pay taxes, or the banks just claimed it outright. Things are different now. You can’t be in debt to a bank, because the only banks we have left are called rich men, and they don’t loan out anything unless you pay for it a thousand times over. So that’s good, in a way.”

“Well, yeah, I guess... But there’s no way to borrow anything from anyone. Nobody has any extra to lend,” Larry said, with a plaintive sound in his voice.

“So your neighbors are in the same boat?” Bill asked. Nine young men from both sides looked on with a faint level of confusion.

“Some better, but pretty much, yeah. Nobody’s in good enough shape to take a risk. That’s for sure,” Larry replied.

“Well, that’s not entirely true. I can tell you that we are doing pretty well, and we may be in a position to help you out, but we need to get up to talk to the state right now. I assume you’ll be here when we come back?”

“I reckon, unless Jesus shows up.”

Bill smiled, and said, “Ok, for now, we’re going to give you some food. Call it the toll if you want. On our way home, if it’s ok with you, we’ll take a side trip out to your place, so I can see for myself if we can make a deal.”

“Well, I’ll be honest here, Bill. I’m waiting for the catch,” Larry said, anxiety and hope battling on his tired face.

“I’ll tell you the catch right now. If we can help you, it’s still your place, and still your choice, but you will owe us, and we’ll most likely make it into a percentage of your harvest. It won’t be a big percentage because it works better if it works for both of us. Our people will be out to check on things from time to time. And finally, if we ever get in trouble, we’ll expect you to come help us out. In exchange, we’ll give you enough seed stock to get going, and since we’ve already solved all these problems, we’ll give you as much advice as you will take.”

“Well, that’s sounds fair, I guess, and better than starving, sure enough. I’d like to see what we get before I agree.”

“Fair enough, Larry. I’ll have to decide if your place can work out too, ok?”

“Ok, Bill. Gives me a lot to think about.”

“Well, don’t think too much. Right now you need to take this food back to your family and have a decent meal. Looks like you need it.” Bill waved at the boys in the bed of the truck and said, “Give me two of those food bags, Jeffry.”

Jeffry and Nick hoisted the big cloth bags over the side of the trucks to Bill, who walked them over to Larry.  Larry couldn’t even lift one by himself, due to his own malnutrition and the weight of the bag. Bill ordered Seth and Rob to carry them over and put them in the old farm truck.

Bill shook hands with Larry, and said, “We could be back tomorrow, could be a week. Keep an eye out.”

“Will do, Bill, but I have to ask... Why are you helping us?”

“I’m helping you because I can, and because we all need help sometimes. In other words, you can thank my father, who taught me this is how you rebuild a country worth having.”

Chapter 4 - 3

After Beech Grove, the highway opened up. The road was flat, straight and lined with big fields rather than trees. Some of the fields were fallow so long they would eventually be forest again, but some showed signs of activity. One place in particular stood out with long white fences in perfect repair, surrounding herds of glossy, well-kept horses. Bill drove by wondering who was paying top dollar for all those horses, and whether Teeny Town should try to expand their own small collection of the animals. Bill’s own thought was that horses were more trouble than they were worth, but if this place was good evidence, maybe that was not the case.

Murfreesboro was in remarkably good condition. The houses on the outskirts were still the kinds of places that the pre-Breakdown generation would have regarded as the American dream, big houses with just enough land to pretend they lived in the country. Now the houses had odd additions for some level of operational self-reliance, and usually sported a horse or goat, and as much garden as could be crammed into the yard. The rode all the way into town without once meeting a roadblock, or patrol. Terry thought they must have some serious manpower to leave such a big town wide open, but that was his last analytical thought before he was overwhelmed by the scale of the place.

The county government was clustered around the downtown square. Like Manchester, they tended to abandon the most modern buildings for the older ones, designed to be livable without massive air conditioners on the roof. On this sunny afternoon, most of the windows were thrown wide open, and people roamed about the square, going about their business with smiles and clean clothes. Bill glanced at Terry to see how long the boy’s mouth was going to hang open in astonishment. It was a vicarious thrill to see Terry’s first encounter with a larger world. Bill was just old enough to remember Nashville before it burned, and he could never develop the sense of pure awe that the younger generation invariably experienced on their first trip to Murfreesboro.

Once Terry recovered from the square, Bill made his way out past the college, which was still larger than the entire Coffee County seat. Terry was in danger of hurting his neck from trying to see it all. The university campus blended seamlessly into the Capitol campus, which had been built directly on top of the geographic center of the state. If one walked into the Capitol building, the original monument still stood in the rotunda. Visitors treated it like a quasi-religious altar, since so little of pre-Breakdown Tennessee existed outside of this town.

Oddly enough, Murfreesboro still maintained a touristy historic village, Cannonsburg, that hearkened back to what Bill’s parents would have considered ancient history. The embedded display town from the 1800’s looked more like modern day than the rest of the city did.

Bill pulled up into a lot marked “Motor Vehicle Parking.” He was guessing that most of the cars belonged to state officials, until he found the visitor spaces and confirmed his guess. Either no one had business here today, or almost everyone rode horses and bicycles. When Bill shut down the engine, he assigned Seth and Jeffry to guard the truck, and invited everyone else to accompany him into the Capitol.

Tennessee’s Capitol was a pale imitation of the  pre-Breakdown stone edifice, but that didn’t really matter. By modern standards it was an impressively large building. The white wooden columns across the front, the wooden slat dome, and the limestone first floor were all effective nods to the old Capitol. To Bill, it felt more like the rebirth of one small section of the Opryland Hotel. It would never replace his childhood mental image of what a true state capitol should be. He approached it for what it was – a building full of bureaucrats, while his companions saw it as he had once seen the limestone building in downtown Nashville.

The young men approached quietly, sufficiently awed into a natural silence. Bill was chattering all the way to the huge front doors. Once inside, even he felt the need to give the place some respect. The waxed stone floor surrounded the geographical center marker, and smaller versions of the front facade columns stretched up three floors to the inside of the dome, which had been plastered and painted with historical scenes from the recovery. Unlike the old history of the state, Bill was not sure what was being depicted, but he was impressed with the lifelike color of the work. He tried to imagine what it would take to paint actual pictures on a huge, curved ceiling, and gave up after a few seconds.

In someone’s attempt to pretend that modern was still modern, the information desk was curved to match the concentric design of the rotunda, finished in polished wood, salvaged laminates, and polished aluminum. In the white wooden space, it looked like someone had dropped a reception desk out of a passing UFO. None of the younger men noticed, because the desk was staffed by a remarkably pretty blonde whose job was most likely more about keeping the public at bay than helping them solve problems. In Bill’s head, his father’s voice was saying something about making the word “no” sound good.

“Here goes nothing...” Bill mumbled as he stepped up to the desk.

“May I help you, sir?” The girl asked sweetly.

“Uh, yes. I have a pressing legal matter to discuss. I was wondering if I might have a word with the attorney general, or one of his staff,” Bill replied, trying to sound more official than he felt.

“Your name, sir?”

“I’m Bill Carter, from Coffee County.”

“And you are an official?” She said it like a question with only one right answer.

“You could call me a mayor, but the legal issue in question muddies the water a bit.”

“I see,” the girl replied, clearly not understanding, but Bill had created enough intrigue to get past her screen. She picked up an old grey phone and dialed a few digits. “Hello, Amy. Yes, I have gentleman here who needs to see the AG... Yes, he does... Bill Carter of Coffee County...” There was long pause while the desk girl ran through a series of attractive facial expressions. “Ok, thanks.” The girl turned back to Bill and reported, “Mr. Carter. If you and your men will a have a seat, someone from the AG’s office will be down to collect you shortly.”

Bill was prepared to argue his way in, and had to pause for a beat to rein in his horses. Then he replied, “Thank you, Miss. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Between you and me, you must be well known. It can take days to get an appointment with that man.”

“I rather hope I’m not. Maybe he’s just bored.”

The girl smiled with perfect white teeth, and giggled. “Maybe so. Well, good luck.”

“Thanks again,” Bill replied, with a smile of his own. “Come on, men. Let’s see if these benches are more comfortable than they look.”

Bill was referring to the post-modern curved benches that were a stylistic match to the front desk, and completely out of place in this particular space. They made a dotted line round the rotunda, just inside the white columns, separating the walking space around the outside from the display space in the center. There were some more appropriate, meaning comfortable looking, chairs against the outside walls, widely arranged so that each office appeared to have one chair. Bill considered the chairs, but realized that if they sat there, his group would scatter almost halfway around the rotunda. Instead, he led them to a bench well around the circle from the front desk so that his boys would not bother the girl at the desk, and so that they could keep an eye on her without making fools of themselves. From this position, he hoped they could take subtle glances rather than spend the entire time turning around to catch another glance. Bill could understand the fascination, but he was some years past being ruled by his hormones.

The benches turned out to be just as bad as he expected. All five of them found that hunching over, elbows on knees, was the only way to find any comfort at all. Terry wondered if the design was intended to keep people from hanging around too long. Within five minutes, their butts were going numb, and that made the blonde front desk entertainment less interesting. They started shifting from one cheek to the other, fidgeting like little kids. By the ten minute mark, Bill felt like his father must have, trying to keep the kids calm on a long drive. Bill wanted to ask, “How much longer?”

When he was about to declare a visit to the facilities just for a break, another gorgeous young blonde emerged from the door nearest the front desk, spoke a few quiet words to the receptionist and walked straight over to where they sat.

“Mr. Carter?”

Bill stood up to greet her, but no sign of greeting was apparent. “Yes, I’m Bill Carter. These men are with me.”

“If you’ll follow me, the Attorney General is ready to see you.” She turned on her heel and marched back in the direction she had come.

Bill, like the rest of his men, was watching her backside sway back and forth and wondering if Murfreesboro had a stable of hot blondes just for every state office. They fell into a rough line behind her and found the view even better as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. At the top, she turned right out of the stairwell and right again, through an imposing wooden door. The AG’s reception area was the exact opposite from the rotunda. Dark leather chairs and sofas were cleverly scattered around the room, and all were in sight of his own receptionist desk. It was empty at the moment, which led Bill to understand that he was following the AG’s receptionist. She didn’t pause at the threshold of another oversized door, this one finished and polished in a dark oak stain. She led them straight into the AG’s office, which consisted of a huge window overlooking the farmland to the north and a complete lining of bookshelves in the same dark oak. In the center was a massive cherry desk with one leather chair behind it, and five lesser, but equally nice chairs in front of it. Bill appreciated the attention to detail.