The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 31

Wednesday, March 17

After spending the night in Beaumont as planned, Marshall and Parker were up and on the road by 9 a.m. heading west toward Houston. The Sergeant was delivering recruiting material to the office there as he worked his way toward Dallas.

“Ever been to Houston?” Parker asked Marshall as they entered the city limits.

“Never have,” Marshall said, then added. “Actually, I’ve never been anywhere we’ve been before. ‘Bout all I know is east Arkansas and a little of west Tennessee. Other’n that, I ain’t been too far.”

“Do ya like travelin’ and seeing new things?”

“Sure.”

“Well, like I been tellin’ ya for four days, join the Marines and ya can see a lot more than this. I been to Cuba and Spain and probably a half dozen other places folks just read about.”

Marshall smiled at Parker’s continued sales pitch.

“I’m still thinkin’ about it,” Marshall said. “And I promise ya this, if I join up I’ll let you sign me. Fair enough?”

“Yea,” Parker said a little reluctantly. “I guess that’s as good a commitment as I’m gonna get out of you right now isn’t it?”

“Spect so.” Marshall continued to grin.

Parker had never been to the Houston recruitment station so he pulled into an ESSO station and asked one of the attendants who came running out where it was. After vigorously cleaning his windshield, he gave them detailed directions then nodded good bye and turned to the next car in line.

“Sometimes,” Parker said as he pulled into the street. “I wish they didn’t have so many guys working at these places.”

“What’cha mean?”

“I don’t know, it just seems like it’s a waste to have three or four guys crawling all over one car. Besides, they make me nervous runnin’ around like a Chinese fire drill. I wouldn’t mind just pumping it myself then letting them take the money.”

They found the recruitment office and dropped the material off. While they were there, they took the attending marines up on their offer for lunch and were soon back on the road.

“Hey, pull over to that news stand a minute. Wanna see if I can find an Arkansas paper.”

Parker pulled the car up beside the stand. Marshall got out and looked over the papers till he found an Arkansas Gazette, paid for it and returned to the car.

He looked it over for any mention of what was going on in Wynne. He found nothing concerning himself, Gerald, Lawrence, Prichard or anything else. Satisfied, he folded the paper up and tossed it in the back seat.

He failed to notice the tiny article at the bottom of the third page. The headline simply said, “Six-year Old Wynne Girl Missing.....Feared Kidnapped.” The story would have been more extensive, but the editor had barely had time to get in the last edition.

“Since you’ve never been anywhere,” Parker said. “ I don’t guess you’ve been to Galveston either, have you?”

“Nope.”

“It’s about fifteen miles south of here. Ever hear of it?”

“I think Miss Carson talked ‘bout in school once, but all I remember is the name.”

“Well, I heard a lot about it from one of my teachers, Mr. Allred. He was one of the survivors.”

“Survivor of what?”

“A hurricane. It hit in September of 1900. I guess it’s still the biggest disaster in American history.”

“How many people were killed?”

“Over 8000.”

“Good gosh. They didn’t know it was commin’?”

“No way to know. Then once it hit, it was too late to do anything, but take cover.”

“Eight...thousand...people. That’s more people than we got in our whole county back home.”

“I’d take ya down there if we had time, but we need to get goin’ if I’m gonna get to Dallas by Friday.”

“That’s okay,” Marshall said. “Makes ya wonder, though, how many people would’ve listened and gotten out. Wonder how many could’ve been saved?”

“No tellin’. But I guess some people would have stayed no matter how bad the danger was.”

“Probably so.”

It was 2 p.m. when Barnes walked into the police station. Lampkin was at his desk with Talmadge across from him.

“Well,” Lampkin said.. “What do ya think?”

“I’ll tell ya, Homer,” Barnes took his hat off and sat down at his own desk. “I’d bet my job that the Prichards don’t know a thing about this.”

“Didn’t think so,” Lampkin responded. “ but we needed to at least give ‘em a once-over anyway. Now we can concentrate on the Bentwoods and the Lawrences.”

“How ya want ta work it?” Talmadge asked, deferring to Lampkin’s more years of police experience.

“Well,” Lampkin said. “Since their in the county, the final call’s yours, but I think we ought to play it close to the vest.”

“How do ya mean?” Talmadge asked.

“I think just one of us needs to go out ta the Lawrence place. At least at first anyway. If we go out there with more’n that and they do have the girl, knowin’ Lawrence we may have a real problem on our hands.”

“Ya want me to go first?” Barnes asked. “Since I’m just a deputy he’ll look at it as routine. Either one of ya’ll might spook ‘im.”

“That’s what I thought, Ralph” Lampkin looked at his deputy and friend closely. “But, ya think ya can handle that old guy, he can act be pretty mean’?”

“Personally,” Talmadge said. “I don’t think it’s an act. I think he’s as mean as a snake.”

“Yea,” Barnes said. “I know he is. I’ve dealt with him before. And Homer, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Lampkin and Talmadge both knew Barnes had been in the Great War and had returned home as one of the most highly decorated soldiers in Arkansas. He’d received two silver and three bronze stars, a distinguished service cross and the Purple Heart.

The wound, his only one, was the loss of his little finger on his left hand. It had been cleanly clipped off at the Battle of Meuse-Argonne in 1918. He hadn’t even realized that it was gone until a buddy pointed it out during a supper lull at sunset. Barnes, a century baby, was eighteen at the time.

“Well,” Lampkin said. “Just be careful. Remember ya wife and kids.”

“I do every day,” Barnes said staring at the chief intently. “But I keep rememberin’ that Jenny Bentwood is the same age as my Jerry.”

“Okay,” Lampkin nodded. “I wish we had radios already like the county.”

“I’ll be ok.” Barnes said as he got his hat.

“Take one of the county cars,” Talmadge said. “Matter of fact, take mine out there if ya want to. It’s got a 12-guage in the back if ya need it, too.”

“I probably won’t,” Barnes said as he started for the door.

“Radio in when ya get there and when ya get ready to leave,” Talmadge said.

“And be careful, Ralph,” Lampkin reminded him once more.

“It’s right over where the gas line comes inta the building,” Joseph Loman said.

As the head custodian of the New London School System, Loman was accustomed to problems, but the one his assistant, Dave Arnold, brought him was beyond his expertise.

“That’s why I thought you needed ta know,” Arnold said. “I don’t know if it’s dangerous or not, but we probably need to tell the gas company.”

“Yea, I think you’re right.”

They were standing at the south end of the high school looking at a puddle of water. It had remained from the shower some two hours ago and they could see bubbles accumulating and breaking rapidly.

“Ya think there’s any danger?” Arnold asked his boss.

“I don’t think so, bein’ out here in the open like this. But I’ll call the gas company and get ‘em out here pretty quick, anyway. They’re chargin’ us for the leakin’ gas, too.”

“That’s for sure,” Arnold said with a laugh and went back to spreading fertilizer..

Loman went to his office and got on the phone to Southwest Propane.

“Does it look like it’s just outside,” The voice on the other end of the phone asked.

“Best we can tell,” Loman answered.

“Well, if that’s all it is, I’ll try to get someone out there tomorrow and take a look at it.”

“I guess that’s ok, if ya can make a billin’ adjustment, that is.”

There was a hesitation on the other end as the voice cleared it’s throat.

“Uh, yea. We should be able ta figure out a credit or somethin’. Ya know, though, that we don’t have any idea how long it’s been that way, so either us or the school is gonna get cheated.”

“Well,” Loman said. “I’m sure you’ll do what’s right.”

“Okay. I’ll get someone out there tomorrow. Good-bye.”

“Bye.”

Loman marked that off of his mental “to do list” and turned his attention to the more immediate task of ordering some Bermuda grass seed for reseeding the football field. There was nothing more he could do about the gas problem anyway.