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The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 40

Beating the Deadline

By Dan BrawnerPublished 2 years ago 9 min read
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“What do you mean you told ‘em when they’d be in?”

Jodie had never seen the sheriff quite this mad.

“I thought I told everyone to keep this quiet,” He went on. “And then you go and blab to a reporter of all people.”

“I’m sorry, Leo,” She apologized, then said in defense. “She said it’d be off the record so I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“I suppose ya never heard of a reporter lyin’ to get someone to talk, have ya?” Talmadge sat down at his desk. “And besides that, how do ya know she was even from the paper?”

“What’da’ya mean? Who else would it be?”

“Well, it could just be the people who have the Bentwood girl.”

Jodie put her hand to her mouth.

“Oh, no,” she said. “I didn’t think of that.”

“No, I didn’t think ya had,” the sheriff said then ran both hands through his hair. “Well, it’s done now, so we’ll just have to deal with it. Did ya get this reporter’s name if that’s what she really was.”

“Yes,” Jodie said. “She said her name was Cindy West from the Press Scimitar.”

“Okay,” Talmadge said with a thoughtful nod. “Why don’t you call and find out if there’s a reporter there by that name. If there is, talk to her and ask her this quiet for just one more day. Tell her your job depends on it.”

Seeing the sudden look of terror on Jodie’s face, Talmadge added. “Even though it doesn’t...this time.”

She nodded and said, “And if there is no Cindy West.....?”

“Then we’ve got a problem.” Talmadge leaned back in his chair. “Just let me know either way.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ralph Barnes was cleaning his rifle when the phone rang in the station. It was Leo Talmadge.

“Ralph,” Talmadge sounded anxious. “Is Homer there?”

“No, he went home for lunch, Sheriff.” Barnes said. “Should be back any time. It’s after 1:00 now.”

“Have ‘im call me or come over when he gets back.”

“Will do,”

Barnes was curious, but his military experiences demanded he not usurp the chain of command. He would know what he needed to know soon enough, and soon enough was within the hour.

“Leo said that Jodie spilled the beans,” Lampkin said after returning to the office from meeting with Talmadge. “They know when Bentwood’s commin’ in.”

“Looks like that changes things.”

“Yea,” He nodded. “That gives ‘em more of a hand than they had already.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Make sure the “good guys” comes out alive. Beyond that, I’m not sure.”

“Should we go out and tell Carl and Edna? They might be here to meet him, ya know.”

“Let’s wait till we figure out what we’re gonna do, then we can handle them in the best way. We sure don’t need any emotional parents gettin’ in the way.”

Lampkin thought for a moment, then added, “For right now, just go on doin’ what you’re doin’. Check the shotguns and pistols while you’re at it, too.”

It was 2:00 pm when Marshall and Conners left the Blue Swan Diner in Texarkana, Arkansas. Both had noticed the banner headline on the Dallas Texan front page that was laying on the table next to them: “500 Feared Dead in School Tragedy.”

Marshall had picked up the paper and began reading. One of articles had a byline of Walter Cronkite.

“Better hurry up and eat,” Conners said.

Marshall looked up at the comment and realized that he had not taken a bite of his food in over ten minutes.

“Sorry,” Marshall said then dug into the plate of ham and fried potatoes. “Readin’ ‘bout the school.”

Within fifteen minutes, he had finished his meal and they were on the road again.

Even though Conners hurried him, he knew that they were on schedule. There was no telling, however, what they might encounter on the road. After all, Wynne was four hundred miles and between eight and twelve hours away.

The wide range of driving times was mainly due to the weather. If it rained, which was predicted, some of the hill roads were nothing more than glorified hiking trails and could very easily become impassable.

Conners had called the sheriff’s office from the diner and told them where they were and their ETA. They told him to come straight to the sheriff’s office in the courthouse when they got to Wynne.

“If you get outa this mess,” Conners asked Marshall somewhere between Texarkana and Hope, Arkansas, “ya gonna join the service?”

“I might,” Marshall said, instantly thinking of Parker and becoming slightly misty-eyed. “I had a friend who was trying to talk me into joining the Marines.”

“Tough bunch.” Conners said. “That what your friend was?”

Marshall nodded.

“He was a sergeant.”

“Ya say ‘was,’ Did he retire?”

“No,” Marshall said quietly. “He got killed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. In the line of duty?”

“No, he was killed at that school.”

“He was inside the school?” Conners looked at Marshall.

“No, he was coming out. When it exploded it threw a big concrete block that hit ‘im in the head. Don’t think he knew what happened.”

“That’s good, anyway,” Conners said. “What were ya’ll there for?”

“He went to see his girlfriend. She was a teacher there. Miss Neal, I think.”

Conners snorted a laugh, then said under his breath,” Well, I’ll be.”

“What?”

“Small world.”

“What do ya mean?”

“Two odd things.” Conners said. “First, Molly and I were there playing a hunch that you and the sergeant would be there. Turned out we were right, but the explosion kinda distracted us for a while, so we didn’t get to ya as quick as we could’ve. Second, was the teacher’s name Linda Neal?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. Might’a been. Matter of fact, I think it was. You know her?”

“Only through my sister. She’s a teacher there.”

Marshall’s head jerked around in sudden concern.

“She okay?” Marshall asked.

“Yea,” Conners answered quickly. “She’s fine. She worked in another building. All the way across the parking lot from the High School.”

“Good.” Marshall said. “Ya know, I never saw anything like that in my life.”

“Let me tell ya,” Conners said. “No one’s ever seen anything like that.”

“Ya think it was gas like some of those roughnecks were sayin’.”

“Probably, from the looks of it. It would’a taken a truckload of dynamite to do that much damage.”

Marshall and Conners rode silently for a few miles, both re-living some of the horror they had seen the day before.

“You said a minute ago that you were there on a hunch,” Marshall said. “What kind of hunch.”

“Hunch might not have been the right word,” Conners said. “Let’s say that it was a lead that came from a hunch.”

“What do ya mean?”

Conners then told him how, through a couple of phone calls as well as some nosing around, he’d found out that a Marine recruiter was coming close to Longview so he could see his girlfriend at the school. The only problem was, they didn’t know who the girlfriend was. To check it out, he and Molly went to the school and arrived just a couple of minutes after it exploded.

Considering the situation, he and Molly had just jumped right in to help and forgotten about why they were really there. At least until Molly found out who Marshall was.

“So, you didn’t just happen to be there?”

“Naw,” Conners said. “We were there just for you.”

Once again, as is often the case in long rides, neither Marshall nor Conners said anything for a number of miles.

“How’d you come to be a Ranger?” Marshall asked as they drove through the hamlet of Donaldson.

“Heredity, I guess,” Conners grinned. “My father was a Ranger and so was his father. Dad helped ‘em chase Poncho Villa and Granddad almost caught John Wesley Hardin. So, I guess bein’ a Ranger is just in the blood.”

“Ya like it?”

“Sure, except for runs like this.” Conners said, then grinned.

Marshall hesitated a moment then said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yea, I guess.”

“What would you have done if you were me?”

“What do ya mean?”

“Ya know what they’ve got me charged with. What would you’ve done if someone’d killed your brother?”

“I’m a cop,” Conners looked over at his prisoner. “I’m sworn to uphold the law and upholding the law doesn’t include revenge or retribution or vigilante justice or whatever you want to call it.

“I didn’t ask what you’d do as you, I asked what you’d do if you were me.”

“Doesn’t matter what I would have done. The only thing that’s important is what you did. And If what you did is justified in your mind, then you can live with your actions. If not......well, remorse has been known to eat people up.”

Conners fell silent a moment to let his words linger.

“If this was fifty years ago,” he went on when Marshall remained silent. “If it was the time of my grandfather, then a person could probably get away with what they said ya did. Especially in Texas or father west. But those times are gone, good or bad, they’re gone. We have to answer for our actions based on now not then.”

Conners waited for Marshall to respond and when he didn’t, he turned and looked at him. He was staring straight ahead , expressionless.

“I will say this just between you and me,” Conners admitted after a moment’s thought. “And this better not go any farther than this car. No one has ever killed or kidnapped a member of my family. If they did, I would probably..... no, I would do whatever necessary to make it right for me and the rest of my family.”

Conners looked at Marshall again. Nothing had changed.

“I want you to stay here tonight,” Carl told Edna.

It was 6:30 and the two youngest Bentwood boys along with the two remaining girls were at the supper table with their parents. Carl knew that she wouldn’t protest with the children sitting there.

“Where ya goin’, Daddy?” Evan asked.

“Daddy’s got to go to town later,” Edna spoke for her husband.

“Can I go?” Evan asked.

“No,” Edna said. “You’ll be in bed asleep.”

Evan showed disappointment for a moment then remembered the chocolate pie on his plate.

Once the exchange with her son was finished, Edna looked at Carl and he knew that she was not going to be staying at home.

Cubby Lawrence poked a tablespoon full of white beans and cornbread into his mouth and chomped as if on a mission. He took a white onion ring and shoved it in onto the bean mixture in his mouth, then bit a couple of inches off a stogie-sized dill pickle. He sat at his kitchen table alone.

“Sally June!” Lawrence added his daughter’s middle name when he didn’t want to repeat something.

“Yessir,” Sally called from Jenny’s “room.”

“You’re gonna stay with that kid!”

“Yessir.” Sally knew this is what he would demand of her.

“When we get back, she better still be here.”

“Yessir.” Sally said aloud, then under her breath, “Don’t count on it.”

She had already made up her mind that she was going to get the girl out of there. And since it involved total defiance of her father, she, herself, was going to “escape” as well. The best place for her to make a new start was Memphis. It was far enough, big enough and indifferent enough to let her get lost there.

She could finally leave the stink of the hogs and the stink of Cubby Lawrence far behind.

Historical
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