Chapter 14, Tate Ascendant

"I suppose we ought to get this council meeting going," George said as he settled into his chair at the head of the conference table. The committee that made application for encorporation to the county had become the defacto village council and with the new responsibilities came new headaches and problems that needed attending to. All the members where in attendance and not quiet evenly split between hill toppers and valley farmers. The farmers had somewhat the advantage in representation but not all of them had out of hand opposed encorporation as had the Tate's and Willie Shank. The few supporters they had melted away in the ensuing months prior to the vote.

August was hot and sultry; humidity coated and cloacked the air and it was like breathing under a woolen blanket, like the humidty so contaminated the oxygen that one had to breath double to get enough. The air conditioners in the Petro-Chem office were running overtime for this meeting and inside it was a nice seventy degrees. Ranged round the table the council members sat and prepared to do battle. It was no secret that the meeting would be about village leadership and the council was charged with appointing the first Alderman, Treasurer, and Secretary. It was also expected that these positions would go to council members. As is the case in most situations where positions of power are up for grabs, the usual politicking and alliance building had been in full tilt since the meeting was first announced, and George had lined his prospects well.

"I trust we all know what the purpose of this council meeting is for. As per the charter we ratified, the village council will have to appoint the first leadership positions for the village where then the positions will be voted upon every two years. It's up to us gentlemen to move Bumpersville into the next several years by making selection of the best men for the job." George looked intently at each person there and inwardly smiled as he looked at his own mental roster of positions and who would support and nominate him for Alderman. Benton's support was a no brainer in his mind, he wouldn't seek an office for himself but could be expected to vote his way. Steven Hubener was his choice for Treasurer and they had a gentleman's agreement to nominate one another. That left the Secretary position and he was unsure if Howard Hilcock would accept a nomination to the post or not, Jim had already turned him down and shrugged off every attempt George made to secure his support. The evening wasn't entirely in the bag, but being the optimist George felt comforatable in his prospects. He had lead the charge from the start and the committee had followed his every recommendation, even the recalcitrant Tate Sr. had succombed to his charms and logic on most of the provisions of application.

"I suppose we can dispense with the buisness part until after we have worked out our leadership positions," George added. "Shall we start from the top?" George looked from face to face for confirmation and for a few joyous moments it appeared that he would get his way the rest of the evening.

"Let's go from bottom to top, keep the suspense up fer a bit," Tate stated smoothly. "I knows yer anxious that we crown ya king Mr. Pembrook, but I'd like ta ease into it real dramatic like."

George and the others laughed, and quite a few were unsure if it really was a joke or not, but even as Tate laughed, it did work to release the tension.

"Funny Ed, but seriously we ought to ..."

"I move that we start from the bottom up," stated Pete Middlebrook.

"I'll second that," Benton offered. "Why not?"

George gave Benton a pained and yet displeased look and relented. "Ok, we'll start with village Secretary. According to our charter, the village Secretary will have authority to hire and fire all village office employees and report directly to the Alderman and recieve a stipend of fifteen thousand dollars per anum. They will also be responsible for all village services and the plans to increase those services as approved by the county."

"I nominate George Pembrook," stated Tate Sr. and raised a busy eyebrow at George.

"I'll second that," Howard Hilcock said.

George suddenly felt stiff and angry. The look from Tate made it clear from the beginning that he had been lead down the primrose path directly to Hell. He made no bones about his expectations and his wants and this was not one of them. If he turned it down and waited for the Alderman position he would be seen as the opportunist and lose all that he had built up and the influence that had gone with it. It struck him that he would have no excuse to not accept the nomination over the others and there was really only one position, one nomination that he wanted, the one he had painstakingly molded to his own liking in the applicaton process. He would take no other position.

"While I would love to accept this position, I know there are others more qualified for such a position than I," George said, putting on his best and most sincerest face.

"I move that Mr. Pembrook remain with the nomination just to give it some competition," Tate Sr. offered.

George glared at Tate and as his last utterance echoed hollow about the room for a few moments that lead to an intermiable silence Goerge added, "is there no second to that?"

"I'll second it," Pete said.

"Ok, all in favor of leaving my name with the nomination despite my reluctance say aye," and five voices rang out thier ayes. "All opposed say nay," but only four nay's where heard, the remaining three voices abstaining with thier silence. George looked with alarm at Jim and Howard Hilcock and Fred Holter, the hapless man who had gotten scammed by a freight company who didn't deliver what had been promised, forcing Fred to sell much of his property that George was able to acquire cheaply for much of the early development of the village. George shot Benton another look.

"Do we have any other nominations for Secretary?" George said.

"I nominate Jim Hilcock," Benton said.

"Second," Howard said and grinned at Jim.

"Ok, are there any more nominations?" George asked hopefully and tried to communicate this desire to Benton then realized Benton had just nominated Jim.

"I move we close nominations for Secretary," Tate said.

"Second," replied Pete.

"All in favor say aye," there was nothing left to do but to accept the call and each man in attendance said thier aye in a staccato of agreement. "We'll dispense with a closed ballot for the sake of time." George's stomach tumbled and it was a surreal experience to sit and watch his well laid plans move so quickly towards the shoals of defeat. There was still the chance that Jim would take the vote, but the queer way Tate and Middlebrook where acting, he wondered if this was one time that his leadership and influence would not win out.

"All in favor of George Pembrook for secretary raise your hands in agreement." Six hands immediately shot up into the air and Jim's was one of them. "All in favor of Jim Hilcock raise your hand in agreement," George trembled, his voice audibly shaken. Five hands shot inito the air but this time Fred Holter abstained from the vote. Horrorstricken, George cleared his throat and was at a loss for what to say next. It was impolitic to resign right then and there and again sacrifice all of his influence, but as it was bearing out, his influence was but a paper tiger and not even all of this time in charge of this committee had gained him anything when it came time for the calling.

"Ok, we have our secretary. Thank you for your support," George said feigning appreciation.

And so it went that his bid for the top post snatched from his grasp. Benton attempted to nominate George for the post of Alderman when the time came, but even that was too much for Jim Hilcock who pointed out that there was no provision in the charter for the offices being held in the same individual and that quickly put paid to any hope of reclaiming what he could truthfully say was his own position. At the end result of the process, Tate Sr. was given the nod by the majority of the committee and running a close count to Benton, nominated by Tate in a fit of barely containable glee. George surrendered the meeting to Tate and sulked the rest of the time. Steven Hubener took the Treasurer spot and the leadership of the village was complete.

Tate took George's buisness meeting notes and proceeded to conduct the rest of the meeting from them, George had assumed he would be leading that portion and had constructed everything that he thought was pertinent. Tate surriptitously struck out a few of his items that obviously benefited Petro-Chem like a proposal to offer cheaper village housing to transient workers on the land deeded to the village by several of the farmers.

The meeting dismissed and everyone made thier way out of the conference room and out the building. George stayed glued to his seat, unable to budge. With the meeting over he was still the general manager of the plant, but that had been only one of the things he wanted. The moment he stepped out of the building, he ceased to be general manager and became vilage Secretary, a term that burned like acid upon his tongue and laid heavy upon his mind. George had little intention of performing in that capacity, being made for so much more.

Benton stuck his head back into the conference room. "You gonna work late?"

"I cannot believe that this happened," George moaned.

"What happened? The vote? It's temporary, in two years everyone gets to vote. Tate can't weild that much influence outside of the valley, it's the hill toppers who'll be electing those positions." Benton said and sighed.

"It's the power to mold the post, the incumbant always has the advantage," George moaned. "Ok, well I"ve got other work to get done, I'll see you in the morning." George stood and made his way to the door of the conference room and Benton side stepped to let him by. Making a bee line to his office George shut the door and sat down at his desk. The leather chair greeted him with a slip and whoosh as the padding compressed. George brooded and ingored the work that lay upon his desk in the forms and reports that needed to be completed for the main office. Running the sequence over and over again he found where he should have insisted upon his own designes for the voting, where he should have insisted he not accept the nomination, where he should have shut Tate down. He was unused to being handled like this by anyone, let alone someone whom he had always viewed as a bumpkin.

It was a defeat that he saw no way out of, no way to recover from. It would be out in the open soon and his prospects for the town, for the growth of it, but more so for the growth of his own power and authority. It was all for naught in his estimation, all of it. He still had his job, his realty buisness, and his house. But what where these compared to the drubbing Tate had handed him?

"This contemptable little valley!" George shouted to his own echo. Remembering the flask of brandy he kept in his cabinet he retrieved it and was soon drowned in its intoxication.

****

George drove slowly up the hill and to the stop sign at the intersections of State15 and State50. It was quiet and still dark at this time of the morning, his watch showing two thirty in the morning. Crossing the intersection, he drove slowly down the street, his street as he reckoned it should be. He owned the land that the buisnesses leased or had bought, but it was all his. The street, still State15 according to the maps, would have been named Main Street in his plans and was already named that on his personal map. The store fronts where dark and empty at this time. George passed Benton's and Theresa's hotel. The parkinglot was about full of cars and many of them were Petro-Chem employees. Also parked by the office was one of the villages new police cars. Curious more than alarmed, George pulled into the lot and parked. As he pulled in Ed Tate Jr. stepped out of the apartment door and buckled his pants up as he made his way to the squad car. George ducked down into the seat to avoid being seen.

He knew of Tate Jr. and that he had a reputation of being wild and uncontrolled in his exhuberance, but had never met the young man before. Tate pulled out of the hotel lot and drove slowly back towards the valley. George got out of his car and entered the hotel office. The bell clanged loudly as the glass door shut behind him. The office was dark save for the light coming from the door behind the counter that lead into the apartment behind it. The office was small, only a glass counter seperated the entrance from the apartment and along the wall was a peg board with room keyes dangling on hooks.

"Hello?" George called out. "Theresa? Anyone?"

Not hearing a response, George slipped behind the counter and into the apartment. A female form lay disheveld upon the floor and she was whimpering quietly to herself, her breaths coming in quick heaves with each sob. It wasn't Theresa but Peter Hubener's seventeen year old daughter, hired for the grave yard shift at the hotel. George started towards her but she heard him and squirmed away.

"Sandy! You alright?" George asked.

The girl cowered and shook her head in the affirmative. She quickly gathered herself up and rushed out of the door and across the street before George could stop the young girl. She wouldn't say what but it was clear to George that Tate Jr. had raped the poor girl. Clenching his fists tightly, George exited the apartment and closed the door. Making for his car he pulled out of the parking lot and drove.

****

George stood on the concrete step and shivered in the cold morning air. The house was darkened and quiet and he had rung the bell several times before resorting to pounding on the door. He knew they were home, no one could even leave for work without it being known in the other houses that clustered the hill before it dipped into the valley below. All of the houses were dark and quiet, his own was not visible, but it would be the same there as Charlene would have gone to bed long before waiting for him to come home. He had been staying later and later at the office as it seemed to him the work was never to a point where it was done before something else needed to be pondered or another report needed to be penned.

Finally a light came on from within and George gathered himself to explain his impropriety.

"George?" a bathrobed Benton asked huskily.

"Sorry pal, but I needed to talk to you and it couldn't wait for morning. It's the hotel." George stated firmly.

"Oh? Uh come in, come in," Benton side stepped and allowed George to enter his living room.

"You know, I'm not sure I've been here before. I've had you and Theresa to my house, but I've never managed to visit you and yours," George said sheepishly.

"Uhm, I'll get some coffee going and we can talk," Benton said and left George standing in the living room. The one floor lamp illuminated in a yellow pallar the Shield's living room and cast shadows over the walls from the paintings that hung near by.

There was the ever present living room couch faced towards the fire place and two easy chairs that formed an L shape and George hesitated to take a seat, not knowing what was Benton's favorite chair. Normally George would have just sat down in the most comfortable chair in sight, part of his much crafted bodaciousness that allowed him to command respect and authority wherever he went. The habit was there and the desire to was not. He was stuck in that indecision when Theresa came down the stairs.

"George?"

Jumping slightly, George swiveled around quickly and blushed as if she had caught him pilfering thier wares. George quickly turned away in emberassment as Theresa had wandered down just in her nighty and had forgotton to close her robe.

"Uh, morning Theresa. I uh, had to come by right away and I apologize for the early morning wake up, but something's happened at the hotel that I thought you would want to know about," George stammered.

"Ok, coffee is percolating. Uhm, you want to sit out here or in the kitchen?" Benton asked no one in particular.

"Why don't I start breakfast and we can all sit in the kitchen?" Theresa added and closed her robe.

Gathering in the kitchen, underneath it's florescent glow, one that stung George's eyes as he went from the mostly dark living room to the sudden brightness of the kitchen. George explained his visit and what he had witnessed at the hotel. Benton went stern and quiet and Theresa blanched.

"How is she?" Benton asked.

"I don't really know, I woke the Hubeners up and told Steven what had happened but Sally was closed up in her room with her mother, so I don't know if she's even hurt. Steven's pretty mad and rightly so." George said as he stared at his hands.

"Who should we go and talk to?" Benton asked, a clear perplexion screwing up his eye brows.

"Tell who what? Sheriff Middlebrook? He's a pawn, just like the rest of 'em. A pawn to that corpulant ruffian Tate Sr." George groused.

"There's got to be someone that can do something about it, maybe the county sheriff? Someone's gotta have jurisdiction over the village law enforcement." Benton wondered.

"I don't know, Steven was fit to be tied and I had to quell him somewhat before he went out and killed Tate Jr. It's probably been him messing with people's property up here all along anyway." George said as he watched Theresa making breakfast. Her back was to them and her movements quick and unbalenced. The sounds of crackling from the frying eggs made George feel suddenly at home and relaxed, it was the sounds of home, of food and comfort and that knoweledg that someone was taking care of you that relaxed him.

"Odd, Theresa's been telling me how the valley folks have always been distrustfull and sort of mean looking to those of us up here on the hill, but I'd never really experienced it myself. It's not that I didn't believe her, it's that I didn't realize how much it was true until tonight. A sudden clang punctuated Benton's last words as Theresa dropped her spatula on the stove causeing a spattering of grease to fly. Benton turned quickly to see what was wrong.

"You ok honey?"

"Yes, just slipped." Theresa said curtly.

"Well, now they are in power it would seem," Benton turned back to George.

"Yes, in power," the word, the phrase, the meaning all regurgitated the past twelve hours for George and the pent up frustration, sorrow, and deep emberassment welled up within. If love is the well spring of the heart, deep shame and anger must be the well spring of the mind and the eyes.

Theresa served them both a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon plus the steamy cup of coffee and then sat down, her face ashen and her eyes empty.

"Thank you, Theresa. Most kind of both of you to feed the one who rousted you out of bed so early," George said and tried to smile.

"By the tidings you bring, it is no mean thing to do," Benton replied and dug into his plate.

George looked at Theresa and she in turn quickly turned away and nibbled on a toast wedge.

"I had heard a few things that were going on from Charlene as well but as with you I hadn't really seen any of it first hand, I suppose you and I have been spending too much of our time at the plant," George added.

"Now that we know, what do we do about it?" Benton asked again.

"If I knew, I would have come up with something before now. Funny, we started this ball rolling and now that it's rolling there's no way of stopping it." George scooped a mouthfull and chewed it slowly. "It's like it has a mind of its own now."

Benton shook his head in agreement and frowned. George ate silently and the three of them at the table became lost in thought, though George would have given something of valeu to know what it was the Theresa was thinking but she hid her eyes from him, never meeting or making eye contact and her expression remained a steady blankness. The wear of the last twenty four hours hung heavily upon his eyelids, his mind though awake was fighting fuzzy thoughts and nonsense. Perhaps he was still sitting in his car front seat and asleep, the reality taking on the tinge of the surreal that even the coffee was unable to take the edge off. The silence became his enemy; the food upon his stomach, the first in ten hours was settling him, making him heavy. Unable to stand the surrender to yet another adversary, he broke the stillness.

"Maybe we ought to meet with some of the other men from the buisnesses and all."

"To what ends?" Benton asked.

"Not sure yet, maybe to form something of a hedge against some of these things, you know, like a posse or just a private security watch. I'd bet that Tate Jr. has done this before, it just hasn't been public knowledge and for obvious reasons," George said, his voice crackled with exhaustion.

Theresa glanced at George quickly then away once again.

"Thought that's why we pay for a sheriff and two deputies," Benton added and leaned back in his chair, a look of having been cheated and robbed on his face.

"We guard against it happening again, catch them red handed, leave no doubt as to what is happening," George said, his jaw set in a stern expression.

"You think we might have to do something on our own?" Benton asked incredulous.

"Let's hope not, would be more interested in just getting on with life really." George fingered the lid of his coffee cup absently.

"Maybe your position as village Secretary would give you some pull in reigning in some of this," Benton surmised.

"I don't plan on functioning in that position," George replied, a dark expression followed.

"You going to resign?"

"I don't know, but I have no heart for it and I doubt if Tate would have me function in it for very long, it hasn't the authority to do much, but I could do enough to thwart him that I can see something coming from him that would nullify it anyway," George stated emphatically.

"How did all of this go so far?" Benton wondered. "I thought everything was going pretty smoothly with everyone, the problems with some of the valley farmers notwithstanding," Benton looked over at Theresa whose expression hadn't changed since the begining of breakfast. "I thought we were really on the edge of something good."

"Only takes a few bad apples," George added.