Read Online That Night at the Palace by L.D. Watson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: L.D. Watson
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the late Horace McCracken Hamilton, would still be in business had he the wisdom to convert his lumber mills to pulp rather than investing in whores and cheap whiskey.
Jesse realized, as he Cliff and Jewel followed the tracks past the little village that the Rose family might not be rich, as his mother regularly informed him, but he had a home and a bed and a meal every night, which was considerably more than these people.
Just ahead, where the railroad tracks turned to the south, Chief Thomas Jefferson Hightower slowly drove along the corrugated road toward the three in his old 1928 Model AA Flatbed truck. The chief had bought the truck second-hand from old Mr. Bradford over in Maydelle whose son used it to deliver groceries and feed for their family store. The Ford’s cab was powder blue and was so faded and oxidized by the sun that if you rubbed your hand on the door it would come up a dirty white. On the side door you could still see where the word “Bradford” was once painted.
Jefferson had been fighting with the town council for years to get a police prowler. He argued, quite rightly, that a police chief shouldn’t have to go running down the street every time someone called for help. He also made the sound argument that it was embarrassing to the entire town that on those rare occasions that he made an arrest he had to buy bus tickets for him and his prisoner to go before the judge at the county seat in Rusk. The town council naturally understood, but argued that the town, quite frankly, could barely afford to pay his salary, let alone buy him a car to drive around in.
It was finally agreed that if he bought his own vehicle, the town council would keep him supplied with gas and oil. It soon became a running joke down at the domino hall that if the town council knew beforehand how much oil that Ford leaked they would have bought him the prowler he wanted.
“Hey, Jefferson!” Cliff shouted with a wave as the old Ford rambled toward them.
The chief pulled the truck to a stop and the three kids walked up to the window.
“What are you kids doing out here?”
“We went up to the old ghost town,” Jesse answered.
“New Birmingham?” the Chief asked smiling.
“You know about it?” Jewel asked excitedly.
“Sure. We used to hike up there all the time when I was your age.”
“What are you doin’ here, Jefferson?” Cliff asked.
“I like to come out and check on these folks now and then, that’s all.”
Jesse looked around at the little town, “I bet you make a lot of arrests out here.”
“Nope, not a one. Once in a while one of these fellows gets drunk and I take him in and let him sleep it off, but they never cause any trouble. I really just take them in so I can give them a good meal and a decent place to sleep. Most of these folks don’t get much to eat.”
Jesse looked around somewhat ashamed at his remark.
“You kids want a ride back to town?”
“Sure, Chief,” Jesse replied for the three of them.
“Hop on the back,” Jefferson told them unnecessarily as Cliff and the other two were already climbing onto the flatbed truck.
#
The Chief pulled over at McMillan’s and stopped. The kids hopped off the flatbed, and Cliff walked over to the cab.
“Thanks for the lift, Jefferson.”
“Anytime,” the chief replied as he pulled away and headed up toward Main Street.
“Hey, Jefferson!” Cliff suddenly shouted as he ran up to the truck.
The chief stopped and looked back at Cliff who, followed by the other two, came to the window.
“Jefferson, if you could give those people down there some food, would you?”
“Well, sure,” he answered, “do you have a stockpile of food that you want to take down there?”
“No, I was just wondering,” Cliff said, and then he turned to walk off.
Jefferson watched Cliff walk away. If it were any other kid, he’d be a little puzzled at the question, but Jefferson knew better than to try to figure out what was on Cliff’s mind. That
Jesse realized, as he Cliff and Jewel followed the tracks past the little village that the Rose family might not be rich, as his mother regularly informed him, but he had a home and a bed and a meal every night, which was considerably more than these people.
Just ahead, where the railroad tracks turned to the south, Chief Thomas Jefferson Hightower slowly drove along the corrugated road toward the three in his old 1928 Model AA Flatbed truck. The chief had bought the truck second-hand from old Mr. Bradford over in Maydelle whose son used it to deliver groceries and feed for their family store. The Ford’s cab was powder blue and was so faded and oxidized by the sun that if you rubbed your hand on the door it would come up a dirty white. On the side door you could still see where the word “Bradford” was once painted.
Jefferson had been fighting with the town council for years to get a police prowler. He argued, quite rightly, that a police chief shouldn’t have to go running down the street every time someone called for help. He also made the sound argument that it was embarrassing to the entire town that on those rare occasions that he made an arrest he had to buy bus tickets for him and his prisoner to go before the judge at the county seat in Rusk. The town council naturally understood, but argued that the town, quite frankly, could barely afford to pay his salary, let alone buy him a car to drive around in.
It was finally agreed that if he bought his own vehicle, the town council would keep him supplied with gas and oil. It soon became a running joke down at the domino hall that if the town council knew beforehand how much oil that Ford leaked they would have bought him the prowler he wanted.
“Hey, Jefferson!” Cliff shouted with a wave as the old Ford rambled toward them.
The chief pulled the truck to a stop and the three kids walked up to the window.
“What are you kids doing out here?”
“We went up to the old ghost town,” Jesse answered.
“New Birmingham?” the Chief asked smiling.
“You know about it?” Jewel asked excitedly.
“Sure. We used to hike up there all the time when I was your age.”
“What are you doin’ here, Jefferson?” Cliff asked.
“I like to come out and check on these folks now and then, that’s all.”
Jesse looked around at the little town, “I bet you make a lot of arrests out here.”
“Nope, not a one. Once in a while one of these fellows gets drunk and I take him in and let him sleep it off, but they never cause any trouble. I really just take them in so I can give them a good meal and a decent place to sleep. Most of these folks don’t get much to eat.”
Jesse looked around somewhat ashamed at his remark.
“You kids want a ride back to town?”
“Sure, Chief,” Jesse replied for the three of them.
“Hop on the back,” Jefferson told them unnecessarily as Cliff and the other two were already climbing onto the flatbed truck.
#
The Chief pulled over at McMillan’s and stopped. The kids hopped off the flatbed, and Cliff walked over to the cab.
“Thanks for the lift, Jefferson.”
“Anytime,” the chief replied as he pulled away and headed up toward Main Street.
“Hey, Jefferson!” Cliff suddenly shouted as he ran up to the truck.
The chief stopped and looked back at Cliff who, followed by the other two, came to the window.
“Jefferson, if you could give those people down there some food, would you?”
“Well, sure,” he answered, “do you have a stockpile of food that you want to take down there?”
“No, I was just wondering,” Cliff said, and then he turned to walk off.
Jefferson watched Cliff walk away. If it were any other kid, he’d be a little puzzled at the question, but Jefferson knew better than to try to figure out what was on Cliff’s mind. That
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