c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(1-26)
The home visit by Sheriff Tom T. Rath had been a complete surprise. Something that I could never have predicted, and did not understand. My only guess as to why he chose to seek me out for candid opinions was that around 40 years earlier, we had encountered each other through a mutual contact. For a time, some of us would hang out for coffee, cigarettes, and conversation, at a local spot that stayed open late. In those days, none of us had chosen a life path to follow, so our interests were impulsive and often, impractical. I liked to collect vintage guitars, particularly those of an oddball sort. My friend Geoff had an interest in firearms, and hunting. Tom was preoccupied with traveling, playing college baseball, being a fireman, or perhaps, enlisting for military service. Yet somehow, he never settled on any of those options. Eventually though, he was recruited to be a deputy for the county. That choice, made by chance, ended up stilling his wanderlust. While on duty, he became known for making connections with regular folk, or going above and beyond to help those in need. As a result, he soon rose to a position of prominence that both his supporters and opponents felt was well-deserved.
I could not be sure that he recalled our past connection on any level. But it at least seemed possible that despite my own fall from respectability, our lost friendship might have inspired a measure of trust that had lingered into the present day.
But while seeing Rath in person was a surprise, the reaction from neighbors at Evergreen Estates felt completely predictable. Something I expected, and even dreaded, in the days that followed. The sight of an official vehicle in front of my trailer must have been obvious to everyone on the street. I rarely had company of any sort, and did not welcome social contact. It was likely that gossip ran wild, from lot to lot, after the encounter.
Before the weekend had passed, a rowdy group assembled at the corner home of Linn & Haki Speck. There were already unanswered questions about the Proletariat Property Co-op, and how being owned by a firm in New York would affect our regular routine. But with the sheriff having been sighted at one end of my driveway, new suspicions had been aroused. I was quickly branded as an instigator, and possibly, a traitor to the cause.
When enough anger had built up over our uncertain future, and dubious loyalties, the gang decided to mount a frontal assault on my longbox residence. It came as I was popping the cork on a jug of Kentucky bourbon, after starting the crock-pot for an evening meal. Despite frosty temperatures in the teens, they marched up our slippery boulevard, brandished firearms, and began to pound on my exterior walls.
Aimes Hefti was the first to state his case. He had the growling tone of a wounded animal.
“C’MON LINK, OPEN UP, YA OLD PIECE OF SHIT! WE WANNA TALK WITH YER ASS! GET MOVING AND UNLOCK THIS EFFING DOOR!”
I could hear icicles dropping from the frozen gutter above my access ramp. Rubber boots stomped hard, in the snow.
“It’s open, dammit! Twist the knob already! Things freeze up here in the winter. I don’t want to get stuck inside, the last time that happened, I had to hike out the back entrance and slog through a mess in the yard...”
Linn was more diplomatic than his militia counterpart. He knocked politely before entering.
“Umm... we want to know about you and Sheriff Rath, getting together. What’s the deal, Link? Are you fishing for some kind of bargain with these people from New York? Maybe a cut on the lot rent? Or paying no rent at all? Is that what it took to get you on their side?”
I laughed out loud at this burst of ridiculous speculation.
“Look, you’ve got it completely wrong, gentlemen...”
Aimes snorted and placed his sidearm back in its holster.
“YER A GAWDAMN MENACE, OLD FART! I ALWAYS HAD Y’ALL PEGGED AS A JUDAS TYPE OF DUDE! STAB US RIGHT IN THE BACK, WILL YA? THAT’S A LOWLIFE TRICK TO PULL!”
I would have preferred to meet the small mob of invaders after more rounds of high-proof liquor. My head was still clear and sober. Yet that condition of clarity helped me to choose my words more carefully.
“I’ll say it again, you’ve got this figured wrong. Rath came by for some insight on the mood in this park. We’ve known each other for a long time, actually...”
Linn pinched his flabby jowls, which had turned numb in the sub-zero weather.
“Link, we all know you’ve never tried to fit in with us. You don’t think right, or act right. But I did guess that at the least, you’d keep your head down while things got sorted out. That was a stupid move, bringing the sheriff right here, under our noses!”
Hefti was not so restrained. The militant commander threw his right elbow into my chest. I slammed against a narrow dividing wall, by the couch. This caused me to exhale violently. But he did not apologize for being so abrupt.
“FRIG THIS SHIT! WE ALL KNOW WHERE YA STAND, ASSHOLE! JUST BE WARNED THAT IF YA DO ANY MORE CUDDLIN’ UP TO THE SHERIFF, THERE’LL BE A LOAD OF BUCKSHOT IN YER PANTS! WE’RE DONE PLAYIN’ GAMES!”
I was out of breath, but managed to croak a response that he did not anticipate.
“Here’s my confession, men. Rath asked what I thought about this park being sold to the student union from Cornell University. I gave it to him straight. They need to admit defeat, and hand this development back to Wells Fargo. Those kids have no connection with people here in Ohio. Good or bad, that’s the honest truth...”
My adversaries were visibly stunned. Whispers and grumbling commenced.
Speck wiped perspiration from his brow. Suddenly, his attitude had changed.
“You really said that to Tom Rath? Really?”
The comandante was not convinced. He drew his pistol, once again.
“Y’ALL ARE ONE DUMB MOTHER-EFFER! THAT’S A WEAK STORY FER SOMEONE WHO CAN TALK BULLSHIT OUTTA BOTH SIDES OF YER MOUTH! I DON’T ACCEPT YER EXPLANATION! I DON’T BELIEVE A FREAKIN’ WORD YA JUST SAID!”
My ribs were sore. But I did not relent. I balanced on my disability canes, and glared at the group.
“Wait for the other shoe to drop. You’ll find out that the sheriff has no appetite for evicting the whole population here. No matter what our park manager is hoping to achieve. Even if the courts side with her, it ain’t a real possibility. I know Tom well enough to be certain of that...”
Silence took hold at last. My uninvited guests turned on their heels, and filed out the door. I could hear an argument brewing, outside. But for now, the confrontation had ended.
