The Problem Child (Emerson Pass Historicals 4)

Viktor

The word about our town meeting had spread fast throughout our small community. I imagined the words roaming along the board sidewalks and into each of the businesses. It would have started as a cluster at the Johnsons’ store and out the country roads to farms and ranches until, at last, the final message had been delivered.

Now it was a little before seven. As I looked up and down Barnes Avenue for any last stragglers, a shiver ran through me. We were a community of peaceful people. We'd arrived in sleighs, cars, and trucks and by ski to meet in the hub of our town, the school. A schoolhouse that Lord Barnes had insisted upon all those years before when he'd hired Quinn Cooper to be the first teacher in what had then been one room and a little over a dozen children.

How much simpler things had been then. In only fifteen years, crime had come to our community. Not the kind that grew from within but the insidious variety that came from greed. Men who had not earned their riches as so many of the immigrants who populated this town had. Not by hard work and an undying belief in the American dream but by crime and violence.

Could we rid ourselves of these men easily, or would some of us die trying only to succumb to the invisible man who gave orders from his throne in Chicago?

It was standing room only. Women had taken the available chairs while the men stood along the walls. Children too young to stay alone were playing in the upstairs classroom, supervised by Addie and Florence.

Lord Barnes wore one of his fine suits, made by my father's own hands. His hair, peppered with silver, had been slicked back from his forehead. His tall, slim frame and squared shoulders gave him an elegant presence. He'd given many rousing speeches through the years, mostly at celebrations. A few times he’d been called upon to give us hope during the war and then when the Spanish flu had swept the world. He’d had to rally the good citizens to band together to keep the flu out, and he’d succeeded. Now he must do it once again. I couldn't help but feel this time would matter more than ever.

“Thank you all for coming.” Lord Barnes gazed out over the expectant faces, all counting on him for leadership. By now everyone knew of the distillery hidden in the old mine building. Earlier that day Isak, Lord Barnes, and I had gone out to see it for ourselves. As angry as I was with Flynn, I had to admit the location was clever. It was no wonder none of us had caught on to the fact of its existence. No one went out that direction these days.

“My apologies for dragging you all out of your warm homes tonight,” Lord Barnes said. “I’ve gathered you all here because of a threat to our very way of life. When I dreamt of what we could become as a community, I never imagined we would build something as great as we have. Together. We've worked hard, each of us with our own talents and expertise to contribute to the whole. This is a peaceful place where we can raise children and build businesses and grow old with the comfort of those we love. Today, I have learned of something that threatens all of that. As I'm sure you've read in the papers, with Prohibition has come men who profit from the making and distribution of illegal alcohol. There are rumors about how these men operate, as well as the accounts of their violence in the papers. For months they were watching my son's distillery and his distribution of liquor to Louisville and to our own underground club.”

His voice broke, and for a moment I wasn't sure he would be able to continue. He peeked at his wife, who sat in the front row between Fiona and Cymbeline, and seemed to gather strength from her.

“When he began the business, Flynn did not anticipate the interference of mobsters who want the distillery for their own use. They came here and threatened him. He would not give in to their demands. Because of this, they shot him, intending to kill him, to send a message to all of us. The message is loud and clear. Do as we say, including allowing us to take over your town and businesses, or there will be more violence. Perhaps even to another member of my family.”

He choked up and hung his head for a moment. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the side of the lectern. “I’m sorry to have to ask you to save my family when we’ve done this to ourselves.”

Not “we,”I thought. Flynn.

One could have heard a pin drop in the room. No one moved. A crackle from the woodstove in the corner seemed to bring Lord Barnes out of his stupor. He peered back at the crowd with feverish eyes.

“I’m humbly asking you to join us this evening. The men will be here in an hour to meet with me. They want the factory, not just the goods. This would mean we’d be bound to them. At their mercy. We’ll be paying a criminal organization for the right to operate our businesses. Everything will change. We will no longer be in the land of the free. To save our community, we’re going to have to uprise together. We will tell them, as a group, that we do not want them here. If they don’t go, we will hunt them down.”

A few men shouted back answers to his request.

“Men, please go home and get your weapons as quickly as you can. Be here to meet these thugs and tell them who controls this community. Ladies, I ask you all to join together to pray at the church. Pastor Morris has opened it for us tonight. We must take back our town, but we must remember we answer to God. If we can avoid violence, I know we will do so.”

Someone called out from the crowd. “What about the sheriff?”

I looked around the crowd, searching for Sheriff Lancaster yet knowing he wouldn't be there. The man could and would be easily convinced to take money in exchange for protection. He would not protect our town. I'd not even given it a thought until now. Lancaster had been worthless for as many years as I could remember. I thought back to that day long ago when Louisa's father had come to our classroom and tried to choke our beloved teacher. Lancaster could have done something about Kellam before it had gotten to that point, but he’d turned the other way. Lancaster might look clean on the outside, but he was as dirty as any of the criminals in our jail, and especially the mobsters who threatened us today. Perhaps we should run him out of town next?

“I cannot answer for Sheriff Lancaster,” Lord Barnes said. “But I do not see him here this evening.”

“So we’re without him,” someone shouted.

“As usual,” someone else said.

Mumbles of dissatisfaction rumbled throughout the room. Clive Higgins, who stood two men away from me, said something under his breath about getting rid of Lancaster.

“I stand before you tonight as honest as a man can be,” Lord Barnes said. “You know as well as I that we have not had law enforcement in this town for as long as he's been sheriff. We're blessed to have been a law-abiding community of God-fearing people, so it's not been necessary. After we're through this crisis and have taken back what belongs to us—our freedom—we can have another town meeting. It's time we elect a mayor and a sheriff and ask Lancaster to politely leave.”

“Heck yeah,” a man said.

The crowd broke into cheers.

Lord Barnes put up his hand to silence the room. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A man in the back asked, “What's he need more money for? Why'd he have to do this to us?”

Lord Barnes shook his head. “I cannot speak for my son, but I think you should feel free to ask him that when he's well enough to answer.”

Someone else said, “He's paid for his mistake, now hasn't he? God says to forgive our neighbor.”

“There's women and children to consider,” another said. “What happens to them if we're killed because Flynn Barnes had to have another car?”

Lord Barnes once again looked at his wife. Mrs. Barnes stood and went up to the lectern. She paused before speaking, then looked out to the crowd. “Who amongst us hasn't made a mistake or misjudgment in our youth? Are there any mothers out there who haven't wrung their hands in despair over the misguided mistakes of their child at least one time or another?”

A murmur went through the women.

Mrs. Barnes continued. “We understand your concern. We feel them ourselves. Why should we have to risk our lives for the mistake of another? If it were one of your sons, I would like to believe that those same thoughts wouldn't go through my own mind, but I know they would. I can ask you only this: if there are any of you who have not made a mistake or had a child do something you wish they wouldn't have, then you may leave. You may consider yourselves exempt from participating in what is a necessary act as part of a community.”

The room once more went quiet. I could almost feel the reckoning people were doing with themselves.

“When I first started as a teacher here in 1910,” Mrs. Barnes said, “I told the children there were three rules in my classroom.”

Without thinking, I blurted out, “Be curious. Be kind. Protect one another.”