Chapter 12
Repercussions

All Pa said on the way home was, “I’m sorry you kids had to see that . . . but maybe your being there kept me from doing worse.”

About halfway back, we met Rev. Rutledge and Miss Stansberry. Pa stopped, and the minister drew in his reins.

“I’m obliged to the two of you for coming and telling us,” Pa said. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t approve of what I done, Reverend.”

“I understand, Drummond,” he replied.

“Well, I’m thankful we got you two for friends,” Pa added, tipping his hat, and then moving on.

When we got home, Almeda’s eyes were red. I knew she’d been crying. Pa kissed her, then put his arms around her and the two of them just stood in each other’s embrace for a long time. Nothing more about the incident was said that day.

Almeda considered whether to go into town at all, now that we all understood why folks had been behaving so strangely.

“We gotta face this thing head on,” said Pa. “You go into the office—I’ll go with you if you like. We gotta go on with our business and show folks we ain’t concerned about Royce and his rumors. We’ll go around to people one at a time and tell ’em to pay no attention to what they hear, that it’s all a pack of lies drummed up to make you look bad before the election.”

“You know I couldn’t do that,” Almeda replied softly, looking Pa directly in the eyes. “But you’re right—it’s best we go on with our lives as usual. Corrie and I will go into the office.”

“You want me to go into town with you for the day?”

“No, I’ll be all right. I’ll do my best to put on a brave face.”

In the four years I’d known Almeda, I’d never seen her quite like this. Her voice was soft and tired, without its usual enthusiasm and confidence. It was easy to see this was really a blow to her, and that she might not get over it so quickly. All day long her eyes remained red, though I never saw her cry again. I guess the tears stayed inside.

By the time we walked into the Parrish Mine and Freight office two hours later the whole town was stirred up all over again by news of what Pa had done to Mr. Royce. Old widow Robinson had been in the bank at the time and had heard every word. And that was enough to insure that within an hour, every man, woman, and child for ten miles around knew about it! The widow’s reputation for spreading information certainly proved itself true. Franklin Royce himself never appeared for two days after that, so the news had to have come through someone else who was present, and most bets were on Mrs. Robinson. In all likelihood, she was the one Royce had used to plant the rumors about Almeda. He probably told her in hushed tones, making her promise to keep it to herself, no doubt saying that he’d assured the person he’d heard it from that he would say nothing to anybody.

Suddenly the first rumor was old news, and began to take a back seat to steadily exaggerating tales of what Pa had done. At first it was just that he had given the banker a good sound thrashing. Then mention was made of sounds of violence, angry threats yelled back and forth, sounds of scuffling and furniture being broken, and even blood, along with vows to get even. All in all, the story as Marcus Weber said he’d heard it was a considerably wilder affair than what Zack and I actually witnessed with our own eyes.

But it did manage to lessen the impact of what had been circulating about Almeda. Even though they feared him, not too many people liked Franklin Royce much. I think the incident was talked about so much because everybody was secretly pleased to see Royce get his due for once.

Yet they were afraid too, for Pa and Almeda. If Franklin Royce promised to get even, they said with serious expressions, he was not one to make empty threats. As for the election, who could tell now? Royce was a dangerous opponent, and they sure wouldn’t want to have crossed him! They wished someone else could be mayor, but they had to admit, with Royce as an enemy, the prospects didn’t look too good for the Hollisters.

With Almeda, the distance and silence and curious looks turned into sympathy. Pa silenced the gossip once and for all, and nobody was inclined to spread the rumors any further and run the risk of Pa finding out. Whether folks believed what they’d heard—and after what Pa did, I think most figured Royce had made it all up—they didn’t show it, and talk now centered around Pa.

When Mr. Royce began to be seen around town again, he kept his distance. However, he continued his subtle tactics both to make sure people voted for him, and to pressure Almeda into capitulating. By the end of the week, the sign across the street was done, and there was activity inside the place, as well as some merchandise displayed in the shop windows. Almeda muttered a time or two, “Where can he have gotten that stuff so quickly?” But there seemed to be no question about it—he had it, and was going to open a business to compete with Parrish Mine and Freight. And obviously his intent was not merely to compete, but to drive her out of business. A second paper soon appeared in the window: “Mining, ranching, farming tools, supplies, and equipment at the least expensive prices north of Sacramento. Shipping and freight services also available.”

That same week, whispers of a new kind arose. If Franklin Royce did not become Miracle Springs’ next mayor, it was said that he would be forced to review all outstanding loans, and would more than likely be compelled to call a good many of them due. As much as they respected Pa for standing up for his wife’s honor, and as little as they cared for Royce, most of the men were agreed that they just couldn’t take the chance of having what had happened to Pat Shaw happening to them. They had to vote for Royce. They just didn’t have any other choice.

To make matters worse, Pa got an official-looking letter from some government office in Sacramento saying that the title to his land was being challenged in court by an anonymous plaintiff, and that investigators would be contacting him shortly for additional information.

“Well, if that don’t just about do it!” said Pa, throwing the letter down and storming about the room. “The man’s not gonna stop till he’s ground us into the dirt and got our land and our business and everything!”

He walked angrily out of the house. Almeda picked up the letter and read it, then showed it to the rest of us.

“I think we’d better pray for your father,” she said softly. We all sat down and took hands, while Almeda prayed out loud for Pa, for the claim, for Mr. Royce, and for God’s purpose to be accomplished through all these things that were happening to us. “And show us what you want us to do, Lord,” she concluded. “Make it plain, and give us the strength and courage to do it—whether we’re to give in, or whether we’re to stand up and fight for what we think is right. Help us not to act in our own wisdom, but to depend on you to show us what you want.”

When Pa walked in a few minutes later, he was calm and quiet. He sat down, rested his chin between his hands, and let out a big sigh. Anger had obviously given way to defeat and frustration.

“We gotta quit, Almeda,” he said at length. His voice was soft and discouraged. “I wish I’d never got you into this.”

“You didn’t get me into a thing, Drummond. I made the decision to run for mayor on my own. I brought this trouble on the rest of you.”

“Well I sure didn’t make it no better, flying off against Royce like I done. Though the rascal deserved it!”

“Now we’ve got to decide what’s to be done. With Franklin threatening two claims, ours and Shaws’, there’s no telling where it’ll end. Not to mention the business in town.”

“We gotta give in,” said Pa, in as depressed a voice as I’d ever heard from him. “He’s got us licked. If we let him have the election, maybe he’ll lay off from all this other harm he’s trying to bring us.”