Read Online The Edge of Town by Dorothy Garlock - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dorothy Garlock
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they met hers over the heads of their younger brother and sister told Julie that she wasn’t alone in her concern that their father was enamored of the young widow. Should she return his affection, it could make a drastic change in their family.
* * *
The regular meeting of the City Council of Fertile was convened at five P.M. in the back room of the furniture store. Present were Amos Wood, banker; Ronald Poole, hardware and feed store owner; Frank Adler, druggist; Herman Maddock, furniture store owner and undertaker (or funeral director, as he’d rather be called); and Ira Brady, owner of the Fertile Telephone Company and mayor. Invited to sit in on the meeting was Marshal Sanford.
The minutes of the last meeting were read and approved. The town treasurer, Herman Maddock, reported a balance of $5,672.13, after an expenditure of $323.45 to repair the water tower.
“What did they do, for Christ’s sake?” Amos Wood demanded.
“You know what had to be done, Amos,” Ronald Poole, who was in charge of the project, explained. “You complained when the tank had to be drained so they could prop it back up. One side of the stand it’s sitting on had sunk down until it looked like that tower they got over in France or Italy or wherever the hell it is. We couldn’t leave it till it fell over.”
“Seems like a lot of money. I suppose you sold the hardware to the town to fix it.”
“Would you rather we had gone out of town to buy it? I made a profit, but a damn little one.” Poole’s face took on a hard look and he jutted his chin.
Mayor Brady cleared his throat. “Do we accept the treasurer’s report?” There was a murmur of ayes and no nays.
“Report accepted,” Ira said firmly. “Now we’ve got important business to settle today, business we’ve had hanging for damn near a year.” A chair creaked. Ira glanced at Amos as the banker settled into a new position, indicating his displeasure concerning the topic to be discussed.
“You still on that kick, Ira?” Amos asked. “We’ve got a marshal. Don’t you think he’s doing his job?”
“Of course he’s doing his job,” Ira retorted sharply. “He’s a
district
marshal. He covers a fourth of the state of Missouri. That’s why we need our own police.”
“Why spend the money for a policeman when all he’ll do is direct traffic on Saturday and arrest a drunk or two? Hell, Ira, we don’t even have a county jail.”
“Mr. Poole has an idea for that.”
“More business for the hardware, huh, Ron?”
Ronald Poole stood. All six feet two inches towered over the banker.
“I’ve taken about all the slurs I’m goin’ to take from you, Amos. You’ve got your ass over the line because, after I paid off my mortgage, I switched my account to Peterson’s Savings and Loan. You’ve been ridin’ my back ever since.”
“Gentlemen, we have a guest. You can settle your personal differences outside this meeting. Amos, we passed a resolution almost a year ago that a policeman would be procured for Fertile. Unless you want to introduce a motion to repeal that resolution, this discussion is out of order.” Ira waited a full minute, and when nothing more was said, he introduced the guest.
“You all know Marshal Sanford. I asked him to come today to explain fully the situation we face here.”
Once the creaking of chairs and the scuffling of feet on the plank floor ceased and the room was quiet, Marshal Sanford leaned forward and put his elbows on the table.
“First let me speak on the matter of the jail. The town of Fertile should join with the county to put a jail in the basement of the courthouse. There’s room down there and it would be handy. Wouldn’t cost much.”
“That was Ron’s idea,” Ira said. “We’ll have to do it sooner or later as the population
* * *
The regular meeting of the City Council of Fertile was convened at five P.M. in the back room of the furniture store. Present were Amos Wood, banker; Ronald Poole, hardware and feed store owner; Frank Adler, druggist; Herman Maddock, furniture store owner and undertaker (or funeral director, as he’d rather be called); and Ira Brady, owner of the Fertile Telephone Company and mayor. Invited to sit in on the meeting was Marshal Sanford.
The minutes of the last meeting were read and approved. The town treasurer, Herman Maddock, reported a balance of $5,672.13, after an expenditure of $323.45 to repair the water tower.
“What did they do, for Christ’s sake?” Amos Wood demanded.
“You know what had to be done, Amos,” Ronald Poole, who was in charge of the project, explained. “You complained when the tank had to be drained so they could prop it back up. One side of the stand it’s sitting on had sunk down until it looked like that tower they got over in France or Italy or wherever the hell it is. We couldn’t leave it till it fell over.”
“Seems like a lot of money. I suppose you sold the hardware to the town to fix it.”
“Would you rather we had gone out of town to buy it? I made a profit, but a damn little one.” Poole’s face took on a hard look and he jutted his chin.
Mayor Brady cleared his throat. “Do we accept the treasurer’s report?” There was a murmur of ayes and no nays.
“Report accepted,” Ira said firmly. “Now we’ve got important business to settle today, business we’ve had hanging for damn near a year.” A chair creaked. Ira glanced at Amos as the banker settled into a new position, indicating his displeasure concerning the topic to be discussed.
“You still on that kick, Ira?” Amos asked. “We’ve got a marshal. Don’t you think he’s doing his job?”
“Of course he’s doing his job,” Ira retorted sharply. “He’s a
district
marshal. He covers a fourth of the state of Missouri. That’s why we need our own police.”
“Why spend the money for a policeman when all he’ll do is direct traffic on Saturday and arrest a drunk or two? Hell, Ira, we don’t even have a county jail.”
“Mr. Poole has an idea for that.”
“More business for the hardware, huh, Ron?”
Ronald Poole stood. All six feet two inches towered over the banker.
“I’ve taken about all the slurs I’m goin’ to take from you, Amos. You’ve got your ass over the line because, after I paid off my mortgage, I switched my account to Peterson’s Savings and Loan. You’ve been ridin’ my back ever since.”
“Gentlemen, we have a guest. You can settle your personal differences outside this meeting. Amos, we passed a resolution almost a year ago that a policeman would be procured for Fertile. Unless you want to introduce a motion to repeal that resolution, this discussion is out of order.” Ira waited a full minute, and when nothing more was said, he introduced the guest.
“You all know Marshal Sanford. I asked him to come today to explain fully the situation we face here.”
Once the creaking of chairs and the scuffling of feet on the plank floor ceased and the room was quiet, Marshal Sanford leaned forward and put his elbows on the table.
“First let me speak on the matter of the jail. The town of Fertile should join with the county to put a jail in the basement of the courthouse. There’s room down there and it would be handy. Wouldn’t cost much.”
“That was Ron’s idea,” Ira said. “We’ll have to do it sooner or later as the population
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