Ever notice many politicians tout their years of public service. They rarely talk about being public servants. Hum.
For new readers to this story, I linked Chapter 1. Chapters 2 - 4 are linked under September, 5 - 10 under October, 11 - 18 under November, and 19 - 27 under December.
For new readers to this story, I linked Chapter 1. Chapters 2 - 4 are linked under September, 5 - 10 under October, 11 - 18 under November, and 19 - 27 under December.
A Novel By:
Charles J. Patricoff
Copyright © 2014 by Charles J. Patricoff. All rights reserved.
Chapter 28
Jail
Nathaniel sat in the cell on the cot’s edge. He examined his county-provided accommodations. At least this is warmer and more comfortable than the solitary confinement boxes in the Federal prison camp. He rubbed his inflamed right knee. From the back-room jail, he watched his child-burdened wife plead with the county sheriff, knowing her cries for mercy—to talk in private with her husband—fell on deaf ears that would not hear. He struggled to stand upright, not for lack of room, but his beaten back kept him bent, as if he had aged fifty years since midmorning. Once he reached the bars of his cage, he shouted with his remaining strength, “Sheriff, may I have a word with my wife?”
Both Eleanor and Ishmael Warren, the new sheriff of Williamson County, twisted their heads so they could see the vocal interrupter of their conversation. Self-absorbed Sheriff Warren asked, “What’s your problem, Graham?” He glowered at his prisoner.
Nathaniel depressed what he desired to say to this man who represented the local authority; however, he went straight to his pressing point. “As a citizen, the Sixth Amendment to the United States Constitution grants me the right to legal representation. I want to talk with my wife because I need her to retain an attorney for me. Do you have any objections?”
“You murdered my friend—the Mayor’s assistant. I’m the law around here, and as far as I’m concerned, you should hang. Today would be fine with me.”
“No,” Eleanor almost screamed. Her abrupt statement caused William to wail.
“Shut that kid up, or I’ll throw you both out of my office.”
Shaking and rattling the jail-gate’s bars, Nathaniel shouted, “You leave my wife and son alone.”
“Or else? Isn’t that what you wanted to say? What can you do to me? You’re in there, and I’m out here.”
Eleanor backed away from the angry lawman. She rubbed and patted William’s back and spoke in comforting tones. “There, there, Momma won’t let that nasty man hurt you.” Then she called to Nathaniel, “I can see and hear you fine from here, husband. What do you want me to do?”
“Contact D. L. Moody in Chicago. I need the best criminal attorney we can find. Moody has uncountable contacts throughout the country. He must know someone who can help.”
Eleanor nodded. “Okay, then what?”
“You’re going to need more than a lawyer,” the wrinkled, leathery jailor interrupted. “I suggest you make arrangements with the undertaker.” As Eleanor’s mouth dropped, he taunted his captive with, “You’re going to need a miracle. You quoted your rights under the Sixth Amendment. Well, the Mayor wants a real speedy trial.” He grinned. “And hanging.”
Nathaniel ignored the taunt and engaged Eleanor to keep her focus on the task at hand. “After you send the message to Dwight, send a wire to your brother, John, and to my friend, Marvin. All of those men know how to pray. Come to think on it, send wires to my cousin Louise and her husband, Michael LeConte, in Richmond.”
“What about my brother, Paul?” she inquired.
Nathaniel shook his head. “Use your own discretion, but, I don’t think he’d help. He’s not too keen on us being married, and he’s made it clear he doesn’t much like me.”
“Maybe you’re right. Then what?”
“Then find Reuben Jefferson. Ask him to gather the church elders. Maybe one of those men knows an attorney. Last, I want you to meet with their wives.”
Her jaw dropped. “Why me?”
“The women need reassurance. You are their key to some stability. And we will need all the prayer support we can muster.”
She swayed. William seemed to calm, a possible positive reaction to his mother’s purpose-driven state. “Are you sure I can help them?”
Nathaniel tried to exude confidence from across the chasm. “I know you can.” He winked.
“How can you be so calm about all of this?”
He raised his voice to make sure he’d be heard. “Do you remember our lesson from Daniel, chapter 3?”
Eleanor frowned, as if thinking, then nodded at her incarcerated husband. “About, Daniel’s three friends?”
“Yes.” Nathaniel stood erect, almost at attention and said, “God will deliver me from the fire, through the fire, or by the fire. Regardless the path of His purpose for all of this,” he waved at the confining bars, “the Supreme Judge of the Universe will deliver me, and you, and William at His appointed time.”
After the cables were transmitted, Eleanor tracked down Reuben Jefferson outside of the polling station near the town’s center. Instead of walking to the mill, he set out to gather the dispersed former “Glory Barn” church leaders. A handful believed the allegations against their pastor and refused to listen to Reuben’s appeals to reason. Because voting was Pastor Graham’sidea, they turned away the opportunity. Sammy Nelson insisted on his view: if he could not eat a vote, or sell it for food, then what good was it? But others stayed away for fear of retribution. However, Reuben’s efforts did yield some fruit. When he informed many of their wives regarding Eleanor’s plans, they joined forces and, before mid-afternoon arrived, six women invaded Mr. Puckett’s store with a single objective.
Startled by the arrival of the women flocking through the general store’s entrance, Eleanor asked, “What are you all doing here?”
Mrs. Sophia Jefferson answered for the group. “My Reuben told me that you wanted to speak to the wives of the church leaders, and he thought you might need some help. I walked over to Mia’s cabin…”
Mrs. Sophia Jefferson answered for the group. “My Reuben told me that you wanted to speak to the wives of the church leaders, and he thought you might need some help. I walked over to Mia’s cabin…”
Mrs. Mia Nelson nodded. “Ma’am.”
Eleanor acknowledged Mia’s gesture, then refocused on Sophia, who said, “As I was saying, I told Mia we should lend you a helping hand. We convinced Mrs. Mary Adams to come along, and on our way here we ran into Miss Ruthie Jolliet and Miss Stacey Reese. We all searched for you, and now we’ve found you. So, Mrs. Graham, what can we do to help?” Sophia asked matter-of-factly.
Eleanor shifted her attention to her lone friend, Miss Pearl Peterson. “I don’t know where to begin.”
Miss Peterson tilted her bonnet-covered head, offering a rolling-eyed expression of disbelief. “You could start by saying thank you.”
Eleanor blushed and addressed her new comrades. “Yes, of course, thank you. I hate to admit it, but I feel overwhelmed.”
Mrs. Jefferson gave Eleanor’s upper right arm a gentle squeeze. “I can only imagine.” She smiled, causing her chubby cheeks to bulge. “Now, how can we help?”
Eleanor glanced at Pearl. Knowing her husband’s focus, she asked, “Do you know if your husbands have voted?”
Mrs. Mia Nelson, thin, with a triangular-shaped face, answered first. “I can’t speak for the others, but Sammy, he said to me he ain’t gonna bother none. Besides, we can’t afford to lose his job at the saloon. Mr. Walters, he pays Sammy extra to keep an eye on things for him.”
Eleanor scanned the other women’s faces. “The best thing you can do for me and my husband today is to go home and encourage your men to come into town and vote. I know it’s too late to prevent the appointed mayor from being elected, but if there are a good number of votes for Mr. Wilcox, Mr. Merritt will have to admit he doesn’t have the full support of the townsfolk, and maybe, just maybe, it might cause him to think before he acts.”
The kind, gray-haired Sophia inquired as if probing for a deeper truth. “Are you sure that’s all you need?”
“For today, yes. Tomorrow maybe something else altogether.” Eleanor smiled. After a brief pause, she asked, “Can I count on you, ladies?”
All six nodded their affirmation, and a couple stated, “Yes ma’am.” Then Mrs. Sophia Jefferson addressed her cohorts. “Ladies, we’ve got work to do.”
Mr. Puckett whistled as if signaling his personal relief. The intruders departed his store without causing any trouble.
“What do you think, Ellie?” Miss Pearl Peterson asked.
From the general store’s large front windows, Eleanor watched the women scurry and disperse in different directions. She sighed. “Time will tell. I wish there was something we could do to remove Mr. Merritt from office and send him back to Illinois where he belongs.”
Rocking little William, Pearl took a step back and examined her friend. “You don’t like him much, I gather. Why?”
“It’s a long story…one I don’t have the time or desire to tell.” Eleanor switched the subject. “Thank you for watching little William for me. Now I need to check on his father and see how he’s getting along.”
Several weeks passed. The heat of the elections subsided, and as before the war, tensions eased. The losers began to accept their presumed fate, the winners formulated their plans in line with their promises, and life returned to the normal humdrum of getting by each day.
Those pushing Franklin, Tennessee’s justice demanded restitution, and maybe retribution, for the destruction of one of its newest developed properties, and the murder of the mayor’s now touted “faithful” staff member. The evidence mounted in favor of the accused, dropping a fly in the clamored-for ointment. Much to the mayor’s observable dislike, none of the fabricated facts held up to even the mayor’s controlled sheriff’s investigations.
Now elected Mayor Jason Merritt stood at his oversized window overlooking the heart of his town. Architectural plans for his new city and county office building lay unrolled and weighted on each corner on top of his polished, eight-foot by three-foot, executive desk. This building project would provide needed jobs, secure his voter base, represent his greatest contribution to the whole community, and set him on the path to greater political achievements. The structure would rival anything erected by other like-size towns. He desired it to endure like the renowned Grecian Acropolis or Roman Coliseum.
Pondering the current legal situation’s impacts on his future, Mayor Merritt stared at the bare grounds where his pet project would rise. “Thank you for bringing me this news, Hodge.”
Former Confederate Major Hodge nodded. He rode with the Twentieth Tennessee cavalry under Lieutenant General Nathan Bedford Forrest’s cavalry corps. As a fighting unit, these Rebel troopers perfected the art of guerrilla warfare. Because the mayor had failed to face the white-haired, bushy-bearded man who stood more than six feet tall, Hodge said, “I thought you should know.”
Mayor Merritt turned in a slow, almost depressed motion, tapped on the drafted sketches, and let his gaze rise until his eyes met those of his guest. “Yes. Good work.” He stepped around the corner of his desk. With quickened strides, he extended his hand. “Again, thank you.”
Mr. Stephen Hodge accepted the expression of gratitude. “Well, then, I suppose I’ll be on my way.”
They released the handshake. Mayor Merritt asked, “You no longer have any family in Pulaski, is that correct?”
“Yes sir,” he choked, “all gone. The war killed my oldest son at the battle of Chattanooga, the heartbreak of it took my wife, and the ravages from unchecked disease drained my daughter’s life away after months of struggling to breathe.” He blinked fighting teary eyes. “She died alone.”
Mayor Merritt attempted his well-rehearsed consolation. “Please accept my condolences, sir.”
The thin-framed former warrior nodded.
Mayor Merritt said, “Hodge, I’ll come right to my point. You’ve proven to be a reliable source of information and a man who can be trusted to accept a challenge and get things done. Due to these unfortunate events, I have an opening for Chief-of-Staff in my administration. I’m offering this position to you. Would you consider accepting it?”
Hodge’s entire countenance lifted. “That’s more than generous of you, your honor, sir. Do you mind if I think on it for a few days?”
Ushering Hodge toward the office’s exit, Mayor Merritt patted Hodge on his back and said, “Sure, sure, go home, take stock of your situation, and send me a telegram by this time next week with your decision. But, I do hope you’ll accept.” As he opened his office door, he offered his hand to seal this phase of the agreement.
Stepping into the threshold, Hodge grasped Mayor Merritt’s hand with a firm grip. “I will.”
“Good, good. Then I’ll expect to hear from you next week.”
Hodge nodded.
Mayor Merritt concluded their discussion. “You’re a good man, Hodge and I have nothing but the highest degree of respect for you.” He gestured toward the office building’s exit. “You take care of yourself, Hodge.”
Hodge took his leave, and Mayor Merritt closed the door. He strolled to his observation point at the window. He glanced at the jail and mused, “It’s too bad one of his men got drunk and spouted off about the raid and how it kept the new freedmen from voting.” He stroked his chin. “I underestimated the power of you and your meddling Mrs. I’m impressed with the level of support you garnered almost overnight. And I know the reputation of the attorney you retained. Eubanks is a good man and war hero. I’m confident he’ll file your requested writ of Habeas Corpus so you can assist in your case, and he’ll leave no stone unturned advocating a rigorous defense.” He sighed. “With this latest news, I suppose I must tell Sheriff Warren to release you. I can’t risk a trial. We can’t let the truth out.”
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