The Shining Badge (12 page)

“You bet they are. That Presbyterian preacher, he really done his self proud. I think we could feed half the county from this booth alone.”

“That’s good. How are you, Emma?”

“I’m mighty fine, Miss Jenny. Mighty fine. I’m tellin’ everybody to vote for you.”

Jenny smiled at the girl, then shook hands with Noah, and they turned and began going down the line, shaking hands with everybody waiting. She circulated for over an hour, stopping only to eat a sandwich quickly, and one time she passed Conroy’s booth. The sheriff was standing there, and when he saw her, he made a remark that she could barely hear—a rude remark about women. The men around him laughed, and Jenny remembered Luke’s admonition. She walked right over to him and stuck out her hand.

“Hello, Sheriff, it’s good to see you. I thought I might try some of the free food you’re handing out.”

Conroy was somewhat taken aback. He scowled for a moment and then smiled broadly. “Well, you might as well get somethin’ out of this. Here, fix the lady a plate.”

People gathered around quickly, for the two candidates had not met at a public event. They made quite a contrast—Max Conroy in his freshly pressed uniform was an impressive-looking man. He was tall and masculine and looked every
inch the perfect lawman. He wore cowboy boots, as he always did, which gave him three extra inches of height, and Jenny felt somewhat like a small child, but she did not let this show.

Conroy kept jabbing at her, asking questions such as, “Suppose a criminal runs into a man’s rest room. Are you going in to get him?”

“I’d do the same thing you’d do if a female criminal ran into a woman’s rest room, Sheriff.”

A laugh went up, and Conroy’s grin disappeared. It came back quickly, and he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “You’re a nice-lookin’ filly, Miss Jenny. You ought to do what women are supposed to do. Find you a man and have kids.”

“I intend to do that one day, but first I’m going to see that there’s honest government in this county, Sheriff.” She turned and walked away, ignoring the catcalls that came after her.

“That was fine, Jenny.” She turned to see her brother-in-law, Clint Longstreet, standing beside her along with Hannah.

“I was scared to death, Clint,” Jenny confessed.

“Well, you didn’t look it,” Hannah said, smiling. “You looked right into his eyes. I was proud of you.”

“But I’ve got to make a speech, and I’ve never made a speech in my life.”

“No time like now to begin,” Clint said. “I’ll be right out there cheerin’ for you and so will a lot of other folks. I’m right proud of you, sister-in-law.”

Jenny had always admired Clint. He was a tough man in his own right, and she knew it would take men like him to stand by her if she ever did, by some miracle, get elected.

****

Jenny heard Luke Dixon speaking, but he seemed very far away. She heard him mention her name more than once but was so frightened she could not put the words together. Finally she heard him say loudly, “And now I give you the next sheriff of this fine county, Miss Jennifer Winslow. Let’s hear it for the little lady.”

Jenny found herself standing upright, seemingly supported by some power other than her own, and she moved stiff legged across the platform. She was the last speaker and was almost petrified. Max Conroy was a good speaker. He had a rough sense of humor that appealed to a large part of the crowd, was a native of the county, and had a great deal of experience in law enforcement. As Jenny listened to him and watched the crowd, her heart sank.
I can never beat him, and if I did, I wouldn’t know what to do.
But now as she came to stand before the microphone, she breathed a quick prayer.
Lord, I’m as bad off as David. Give me some smooth stones and don’t let me faint.

She spoke up then with her first sentence. “There are no women sheriffs in this state!” Cries went up from her opponents, and she waited until they died down. “If there were a good man running against my opponent, I would not even think of making this effort. I would support him. But no good men have stepped forward, though I know there are many strong men, some of them standing on this bridge, that would do a fine job. But they didn’t step into the gap.”

A silence had fallen over the crowd, and more than one man dropped his head with something like shame, for the words were true enough. There were plenty of good men, but none of them had been willing to face the machinery that stood behind Max Conroy. It was dangerous, ill-paid work, and usually thankless.

“I’ve never shot a gun in my life,” she said, her voice ringing clearly, “but there are some things more important than shooting guns—and being fair and honest is the first! I’m sure my opponent can hit a target with that pistol of his much better than I could, but if I’m elected, I’ll have men standing beside me who are equally good shots. Of course, I could never stand up to a man in a rough-and-tumble fight, but I believe there are men who would stand beside anyone who would offer a fair and equitable government to the people of this county.”

Clint then yelled, “You bet your sweet life, and I’m one of them!”

A laugh went up and boos from the Conroy crowd, but Jenny felt much better and an ease came to her. She began speaking about Conroy’s record, making it as objective as possible. She heard rumblings from those who supported the sheriff, but she did not pause.

“I will learn to shoot a gun. My father will teach me. I’d like to introduce my father. Would you stand up, Dad?” She saw her father stand up, looking ill at ease. “He doesn’t like attention, and now I’m going to embarrass him. You need to know what kind of a family I come from. This is my father, Lewis Winslow. He’s the best man I know.” She paused for one moment and said, “When this country was at war at the turn of this century, my father was beside Teddy Roosevelt going up San Juan Hill in Cuba. He won the Congressional Medal of Honor for his action there that day. He doesn’t like me to talk about it, but every time I pass the fireplace at our house, I look up at that medal on the mantel that so few men have earned, and I’m thankful there are men like this in this county. I’m proud to be a Winslow,” she said. “I know heritage means a great deal to southerners. I’ve lived for most of my life in New York, but my home is here. My great-uncle, Mark Winslow, fought with Robert E. Lee along with his brothers Thomas and Daniel. My grand-aunt, Lola Winslow, served the Confederacy as an agent. If you want to read a story of courage, read the story of Lola Winslow. They fought for states’ rights, not for slavery. None of my people ever owned slaves.” She paused and looked around and saw the black people that were on the edge of the crowd.

“If you elect me sheriff,” she said clearly, “I will treat all people equally. That means if you are poor, I will give you exactly the same treatment I’d give a rich man. A woman will be heard exactly the same as a man. Black people or people of Mexico, people of any race or religion can come to me without fear. I know this will not please all of you, but I’m
not here to please the crowd. I stand on one fact—the law must be the same for all people.”

Clint let out a ringing yell and stood and began clapping. All over the bridge voices rang out, and the sound swept against Jenny. At that moment she knew she had done exactly the right thing.
I may lose this election, Lord, but these people deserve good government.

“Now,” she said, “my opponent did not ask for questions, but I will take them if you will give them clearly one at a time.”

Simon Skinner was near the front of the crowd. He called out roughly, “What are you going to do, missy, when a man comes at you and takes that little gun away from you that you claim you’re gonna carry?”

Jenny, for a moment, could not answer, but suddenly a man that towered over Skinner grabbed him by the back of his collar. It was the blacksmith Jude Tanner, and he squeezed and lifted Skinner until the tall, lanky man cried out and struggled, but he was like a child in the grip of the blacksmith.

“I will hire good, honest men such as Jude Tanner to handle that question, Mr. Skinner.”

Applause and laughter went up, and Jenny knew she had won the point.

The questions went on for some time, and to her amazement, Jenny found that most of them were good questions from people friendly to her. She was not afraid to say, “I don’t know,” and she said it often. “I will have to be educated,” she said finally before stepping aside. “But as I’ve said before, I don’t think brute force or a vast knowledge of the law is what this county needs. We need justice for all people, and I might as well be honest with you. There are forces outside this county moving in. Racketeers from the North intend to use Georgia and other southern states as a source for their bootleg whiskey.” She hesitated and then lifted her hand and said, “I pledge to you they will not use our land for their evil purposes.”

The applause began then, and Jenny turned and went
back to her seat. Her face was flushed, and her knees felt weak. The applause went on for a long time, and finally the lieutenant-governor came to the microphone. He was a Conroy supporter, but he was too wise a politician to attack a woman who had received an ovation. “We’re grateful for our candidates, and we ask that you all come out and vote on election day. It’s your chance to speak up for what you want.” Luke leaned over and touched Jenny’s arm. “You did fine, Jenny,” he said. “You couldn’t have done better.”

“Thank you, Luke. Do you think we have a chance?”

“Yes, I think you’ll be the next sheriff. And then you’ll really need prayer.”

****

The day had been long, and Jenny had spent it as she had every other day since starting her campaign. She had made it a point to go to every small town in the county, going to every business she possibly could. She could not argue politics, for she was not well enough versed, although Luke Dixon was bringing her along in that matter, educating her until late at night on the issues of the day and the way the county machinery ran.

By now Jenny was almost blind with exhaustion as she drove the truck along the highway and thought of what a tough campaign it had been. She had received threatening phone calls, for she’d had to have a phone installed at Luke’s insistence. Some of the calls had been obscene. She had simply hung up, but they had troubled her.

Now the election was only two days away, and her mind was swept as if by a hurricane.

She had gone home but had been so disturbed she had to get away for a while. She had remembered promising Jamie Varek to bring her a doll, and she had picked one that she had brought from New York with her, a treasured relic of her childhood. Now as she pulled up in front of Varek’s house, she noted with approval that he was making progress on the
house. It was looking better all the time. It was painted now, and the yard was cleaned up and even a few flowers were planted under the windows.

She picked up the paper sack containing the doll and went up the walkway. Jamie came bursting out the screen door to greet her, followed by Clay.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Jenny said.

“Did you bring me a doll?”

“She gets right to the heart of it,” Clay said, smiling. He came down the steps and nodded. “I hear you’ve been busy.”

“Pretty busy.” Jenny handed the sack to Jamie and watched the girl strip it away, then hold up the doll. It was a beautifully made doll with blond hair and blue eyes, and when you squeezed it, it made a sound vaguely resembling a baby’s cry. “Squeeze it, and she’ll cry for you, Jamie.”

Jamie squeezed the doll and cried out in delight. “I’m going to name her Jemima.”

“She loves Aunt Jemima’s pancakes, which is about the best of my cooking, I reckon. So I guess Jemima’s a good name,” Clay said. “Come and sit on the porch for a while.”

Jenny went up and sat down in one of the rockers, and Clay took another. Jamie crawled up in his lap, cuddling her doll and stroking its hair. She was astonished to find that the eyes closed when you laid the doll back and opened when you sat her up.

“You couldn’t have brought her anything that would have made her happier,” Clay said quietly. He was studying Jenny’s face and said, “You look exhausted. Campaigning is pretty hard work, isn’t it?”

“The hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Jenny admitted. She laid her head back against the chair and rocked slowly. There was the smell of honeysuckle in the air, and the quietness fell on her like ointment. She had talked so much and listened so much and traveled so much, and now just to sit here in the quietness was a luxury.

The two sat there listening and smiling as Jamie played
with the doll, and finally she ran off, saying, “I’m gonna put her on my bed and sing her to sleep.”

“You’re about played out,” Clay observed once Jamie had gone.

“I don’t know what makes me think I can do it. I think I’ve lost my mind. I let Luke Dixon talk me into it and a few others.”

“Do you want to do it, Jennifer?”

Jenny looked up and studied Clay Varek. He made an arresting figure as he sat there, his white shirt fitted snugly against his shoulders and chest. He smiled at her then, and the smile took the rough edges from his face. He bent over and put his elbows on his knees, his shoulders loose. His tawny hair made a line across his forehead, and his mouth was wide and firm. The chin below was rather sharp, and there was something almost wolfish about him, Jenny noticed for the first time.

“I think you’re doing a good thing,” he said unexpectedly.

“You do?” Jenny was amazed, for he had never commented one way or the other on her campaign.

“Yes, and I guess I haven’t been quick enough to tell you that. But I was in law enforcement for a long time, and it’s a bad situation in this county.”

“You were a sheriff?”

“I was a detective on the Chicago Police Force for eight years.”

Jenny stared at Clay in shock. He had never spoken of his past, and now she knew that he was breaking some rule he had made for himself. “Why did you quit, Clay? Didn’t you like it?”

“I liked some of it, but there’s a lot of corruption out there. A man has to fight it all the time. People shoving money at him and wanting him to do the wrong thing.” He hesitated, then passed his hand in front of his face in a helpless gesture. “But that wasn’t why I quit.” He sat still for a moment and then clasped his hands together, and his voice was summer
soft on the air. “I had a good friend, Jennifer. His name was John Summers. He was my partner. He had a wife who gave him a child and then died, and he was trying to raise her. The two of us got caught in a shoot-out. We went down an alley together, and a gunman from a second-story window was about to shoot me. John leaped in front and took the bullet. I got the man who fired it, but Johnny was bleeding to death. I knew he was a goner.” Clay Varek hesitated, and his voice seemed to break. “He asked me to look out for his little girl.”