Chapter 25
Devising a Strategy
Well, I suppose you’ll still be wanting to make an announcement at church tomorrow,” said Rev. Rutledge at length. “Although it looks like it will be quite different than what you first had in mind, Almeda!” he added with a big smile.
“I don’t know, Reverend,” replied Pa hesitantly. “I don’t know if it strikes me as quite right to use your pulpit to further my own plans. Seems like it might have been okay to make a public announcement like Almeda was fixing to do. But without Royce having the same advantage, it hardly seems like it’d be fair for me to do it.”
All this time Pa had been so angry at Mr. Royce for everything he’d done, and now all of a sudden he was worrying about being fair—even to him. It didn’t take long for him to start thinking like a politician—and a good one at that, not like the kind who are always trying to twist things for their own advantage. Maybe Pa was gonna be cut out for this kind of thing after all!
“Aw, come on, Drum,” said Alkali Jones. “How considerate has that snake been t’ you an’ yer missus here?”
“All’s fair in love and war—and politics—that’s what they say, Drum,” added Mr. Shaw.
“Now let’s have no more of this, the rest of you,” said Almeda. “My husband has made his first decision as a candidate for mayor, and I think we should support him to the fullest in it. And besides that, I think he’s absolutely right. Ethically speaking, it would give him an unfair advantage to speak in church.”
“Not to mention mixing religion and politics,” added Miss Stansberry.
“Even if there weren’t anything wrong with it,” Pa said, “Royce’d squawk and complain of an unfair advantage and might get so angry he’d start causing who knows what kind of mischief all over again. Just because I have to be fair to the man doesn’t mean I trust him any more than I ever did—which isn’t much. No, there’s not gonna be no speaking out about this change of plans in church. If I’m going to win this election, I’ll do it fair and square, so that Royce hasn’t got a straw of complaint to stand on.”
The room got quiet and people sat back down again. Only Pa remained on his feet, slowly pacing about, as if he had to keep moving while he was trying to think. But when he spoke, since he was standing and all the rest of us were sitting, it was almost like a speech, although I knew speechmaking never crossed Pa’s mind. I couldn’t help being intrigued by the changes I saw coming over him already! He was taking command of the situation, just as Almeda had said she had hoped he would.
“And that brings us straight back to the question I asked a little while ago,” Pa went on, “which seems to be the crux of the whole matter. My name isn’t even on the ballot. I don’t see how I can run against Royce for mayor, even if I want to. There just isn’t enough time.”
Silence fell again. He was right. Time was short. What could be done? The ballot obviously couldn’t be changed.
“What about a write-in vote?” suggested Katie after a long pause.
“What’s that?” asked Pa.
“A write-in vote. People write in someone’s name who isn’t officially running. You hear about it all the time in the east—although nobody ever wins that way because they just get a few votes.”
“That’s it! That’s the perfect way!” exclaimed Almeda excitedly. “What do you think, Drummond?” she asked, turning toward Pa. “We’ll get word out that everyone who was going to vote for me should write in your name on the ballot instead.”
“That’s a lot of folks to get word to,” replied Pa, “because I still don’t want an announcement made in church.”
“We could do it, Pa,” said Zack, getting into the spirit of it. “Look how many of us there are right here. We’ll just go out and tell everybody!”
“He’s right—we could!” said Almeda. “With eight or ten of us, each calling on five or six families, telling them to let it be known—why, the whole community would know in no time.”
“What are we waitin’ for?” cried Uncle Nick. “Let’s get the horses saddled and the buggies hitched and be off!”
“Hold your horses!” said Pa loudly. “I figure if all this is going on because of me, I ought have some say in it too!”
Everybody quieted down and waited. Pa thought for a moment. He was still standing up and slowly walking back and forth.
“All right,” he said finally, “like I said a bit ago, I’m in this thing, so maybe Zack’s got himself a good idea. If you’re all of a mind to help, then you’ve got my permission to tell anybody you want—”
A fresh round of whooping and cheering went around the room. Even Rev. Rutledge dropped his normal reserve and got into the act with some noise.
“Wait a second . . . hold on!” shouted Pa. “Don’t you go chasing off before the wagon’s hitched! I was about to say you could tell anybody you want . . . but ye gotta keep word of this quiet—just one person to the next. I don’t want this being talked about on the streets of Miracle Springs. I don’t want Royce getting wind of it. You just tell people to spread the word around quietly and not to make a big ruckus about it, but just to walk into that schoolhouse on Tuesday and do what they feel they oughta do. The less Royce knows the better. I don’t want to give him any more fuel to try anything else that’s gonna hurt somebody. After the election’s done, he can come and see me if he’s got a complaint.”
“That sounds easy enough,” said Uncle Nick. “Now can we git going, Drum?”
“Nobody goes anywhere till after church tomorrow,” answered Pa. “I don’t want it talked about, you hear? Tomorrow afternoon, once folks are back home, then we’ll see what can be done. But we’re all going to go to church as usual, and we’re not going to say anything. You all promise?”
Everyone nodded, although Uncle Nick and Alkali Jones didn’t like the idea much. I think they would have liked to go and shout the news in the middle of the Gold Nugget so the whole town would know everything in five minutes!
Rev. Rutledge rose from his chair and walked over to Pa. “May I be the first to offer you my congratulations, Drummond?” he said, extending his hand. “I think you have chosen a reasonable and a wise course of action, and I want to wish you the best.”
“Well, I reckon we’ll see what’ll come of it in a few days!” replied Pa, shaking his hand. The two men looked at each other for a couple seconds as their eyes met. I can’t say it was a look of love so much as a look of mutual respect, and even friendship. They had sure come a long way together.
We went to church the next day, like Pa had said, but we all sat there with half-smiles on our faces, as if we all knew a secret we were keeping from the rest of the town.
Which, of course, we did!
But we didn’t keep it from them for long. That afternoon, everyone who had been at our place the day before—everyone except Pa, that is. He didn’t feel he ought to go to people and ask them to vote for him—rode on horseback or by buggy all throughout the community to pay short visits to everyone we could. Almeda and Miss Stansberry and Rev. Rutledge had planned out where we would all go. Even Tad and Becky had their calls to make.
The visits continued on Monday, although Almeda and I went into the office and tried to conduct a normal day’s work in spite of the distraction of knowing the election was the next day. Smiles and nods and whispered words of hope and encouragement as the day progressed told that the word of Pa’s write-in candidacy had spread through the town as quickly and successfully as anyone could have imagined.
Late in the day, Franklin Royce paid another call. He came into the office, asked for Almeda, then extended his hand and shook hers in one last election formality.
“Well, Almeda,” he said, “by tomorrow evening this will all be over. So may the best man win, as it were.”
Almeda smiled, thinking to herself—as was I—that he could not possibly have realized the significance of his own words. He obviously knew nothing about Pa, or Almeda’s decision to remove herself from the race.
We all went to bed tingling with anticipation and excitement . . . and a little fear besides!
The next morning, the fateful day of November 4, 1856, we all got up and rode into town in the wagon with Pa, so he could cast his vote.