Chapter 14, Captain, my Captain - rewrite

Willie slumped down in the chair that was becoming more his chair than he desired it to be; the frequency of his being summoned to Tate's farmstead becoming too regular, too much. As always, the king, Ed Sr. kept him waiting in the ante-room with only his bombastic son for company. Ed. Jr. was fast becoming his friend, or at least rumor had it as, something that Willie found oddly distasteful. He had fallen in the ranks as well, from foreman to lackey that even the likes of Ed Jr. by virtue of his sireling to Ed. Sr. gave a leg up on Willie. They sat in the living room and made small talk as Willie fidgeted the while.

"What you think Pop's got goin' on fer us t'night?" Jr. asked eagerly.

"Dun know and not sure I want ta know," Willie griped.


"Aw, this stuff ain't nuthin'. Used ta do worse around here with nobody the wiser 'till it was too late to blame anyone!" Jr. chuckled.

"Oh," Willie exclaimed as the goose pimples rose on the exposed flesh of his arms. The sound of the cackling and the look of mischief in Jr.'s eyes where enough to turn any harlot into a saint. It was the easy malevolence in him that creeped Willie out the most, but for some reason Sr. had chosen him as one of his lietenants and Willie was stuck with him as a peer. Only his own qalifications for such a post weren't from skill or desire but from having to pay his pound of flesh to the fat man.

"I hope we go ta Hube's store, I wanna give that dog o his a good kick in the balls!" Jr. cracked a smile.

"We can't get near it without Hubener hearin' anyway," Willie said. He had nothing against Pete even if he had spoken out at the meeting. He still liked to sit in his front and jaw with Robert. He hated what they had already done and the pangs of guilt grew each time he walked in and greeted Pete.

"I jus' want in the store, I've had my eye on that table saw, that new one from Black and Decker Hubie just got in," Jr. said and played his fingers with delight. "Maybe we'll do it anyway ta'night after we do what the old man wants as ta do."

"Not if his dog has anythin' ta say 'bout it," Willie retorted and glared. So far, he'd only had to perform some petty vandalisim and a few times he feeling it was justified, a little bit of cathartic activity to work out the demons of that night. But, the requests kept coming and he wondered when his debt would finally be paid.

"Oh, I got plans fer that there dog," Jr. said, an evil grin lighting his eyes.

"I'd imagine he's got sum plans fer that ass o yors too!" Willie snapped. "Now why'd ya want ta go an' do somethin' like that anyway?"

"Why not?"

"Cause it aint right perhaps?" Willie asked sarcastically.

"And it aint right that Hubie should allow his dog ta take a bit outta my leg, neither!"

Willie shook his head and wondered at why he had even started talking to Jr. "You where the one insistin' on gettin' into the store that night, dog's jus doin' his job."

"Whatever, I got plans fer that dog," Jr. nodded and pursed his lips. "Big plans."

"I dun wanna hear that Hubener's dog turns up hurt or worse, Ed!" Willie barked. "You got careless an paid fer it and let it be at that."

Ed Jr. turned away and pouted silently, his features brooding with a blackness that sent more goose flesh marching across Willie's arms. He wanted out, out of the house, out from the presence of the malignant progeny of his master. Most of all Willie wanted out from the shadow of that man who always looked at him with those soft and condescending eyes that melted whatever manhood Willie had left in him.

"Would you two squirrels stop chattering!" the voice of Ed. Sr. called down from the stairwell. Soon his lumbering form slowly emerged from the stairs and he sat down in his chair with a heavy plop. His bushy eyebrows and mulitple chins gave him a somewhat jolly appearance, as if nothing but goodness and kindness existed behind those blueish eyes. His smile, the sugar coating to his subtle manipulation, and his corpulant form worked a deception that hung like a cloud around him. For those who knew him well enough to see beyond the facade there was still a power and strength of will that inevitably made you do what he asked or ordered.

It had been he who cooked up the scheme to defraud the state farm bureau of the crop compensation way back when and thus established his genius for the devious early on in life. He didn't weild the power of a strong man but of a power of the mind to sway the weaker in consitution. If Willie took time to think about his predicament he would conlude to not answer another summons from his tormentor. He tried to this last time but as the day and hour drew near his resolve wanned and he found himself at the doorstep nonetheless. There was also the unpoken threat of Ed Jr. being turned loose upon Willie's own farm and family and that was enough to keep him subservient for the time being.

"It's time we step up the activities. I'd suppose the folks on the hill are now rightly nervous fer thier buisnesses, wouldn't you say?" Sr. asked Willie.

"Can't say, though Hubener has a dog now in his store." Willie answered and nervously scratched his arm.

"Yes, I belive Jr. here met him a few weeks ago." Sr. said with a thin smile.

"Damn dog! Still got a scab on my calf from that damn dog!" Jr. hissed.

"Was yer own fault fer bein' stupid." Willie retorted.

"Well I gotst some plans fer that there dog," Jr. tittered.

"I tole you ta leave the dog alone!" Willie glared.

"There'll be a time fer that, but not yet! So lay aside them revenge plans boy, you got other things to work on fer a different purpose," Sr. said and folded his hands on his chest.

"Whatever it is, can't be as fun as what I wanna do," Jr. groused.

"Shut up, boy! That's why I makin' ole Willie here captain of these operations, you're too busy with yer own petty larceny to be of any use for me save fer someone to tell ya what to do and that be Willie here fer the time being. Got that?" Sr. said and smiled at his son.

"Yeah, I gotst it!" Jr. frowned.

"The application has been made to the county fer the encorporation into a village stattus, jus' a matter of time before it is called to a vote. It's going to happen." Sr. said evenly.

"Well, we need ta start speakin' ta people agin and get those turn coats what voted fer the secret ballot ta vote proper." Willie said, a measure of excitement animating his hands.

"No, it gonna happen. You didn't larn much from that meetin', did ya? Anyone that was gonna fall into line already did afore the meetin'. Anyone else is jus' gonna vote the way they will. Aim aint ta change they's vote, but ta make 'em pay fer how they voted so that the next time around they think twice afore crossin' me again." Ed Sr. said dryly.

"So, we jus' gonna let it happen? Them bastards gonna get what they want from us? That bastard Pembrook an' Shields and the others jus' gonna get what they want from our valley?" Willie burst.

"Dammit man, you can't stop it! You were the fool what brought it to this in the first place. Things might have gone our way had you had any sense atoll that night so quit yer whinnin' ta me! You jus follow what I tells ya and maybe someday you'll see what it is all about." Sr. snapped a Willie.

"So, what air we gonna do?" Willie conceeded.

"Well, captain my captain, you and Jr. are going to pay the Hilcocks a little visit along with a random someone from the hill residences. You are going to make them feel unsafe, be that bump in the night and be that reminder that they are not wanted here. You are then going to lay aside this petty larceny that you and Jr. have been visiting upon the buisnesses along the road and start to really be something other than petty thieves. You understand me? You gonna be the long arm of the valley that reaches out its hand against the newcomers and anyone who works with them, like ole Howard and your good friend Jim." Ed Sr. finished and looked smugly at Willie.

"Uhm, I don't see what that is going to gain us." Willie stated as he gripped the arms of the chair.

"In time, you will see what it is for, but now is not the time for explanations but for you and Jr. to get busy with what you are going to do," Ed Sr. said. "When I am satisfied with the report I will decide on changing my directives so consider this your marching orders for the time bein'. You do well an' I might even have you stop for a while if it looks ta suit our purposes."

"Can I get Hubie's dog then?" Ed Jr. perked up.

"Would you forget that damned dog!" Ed. Sr. snapped. "You won't do nuthin' to that dog 'till I say so, got it?"

"I don't likes it; don't likes the stuff we doin' and don't see that it serves even yor revenge purposes," Willie stated weakly, a slight stutter to his words as he tried to sound emphatic.

"It ain't fer you to likes or dislikes, Willie. It is fer you to execute what I tells ya. Remember, this is all on you an yor stupidity. Yor mine 'till I say so, got it?" Ed Sr. said, the condescending tone biting deep into Willie.

"Now you to get along an' figger out what you gonna do ta ole Howard Hilcock. He made it so them fellers could bring that chem plant here and bring all them people on the hill who work fer it; so he should get something appropriate ta his actions. Make it a good 'un." Ed. Sr. said as he rose from his chair and ambled back up the stairs.

Wille sat and brooded. It had gone beyond too far weeks ago. It was going to where he had niether stomach nor inclanation to pursue it further. Yet, to leave it be would be to leave whomever in the unprincipled hands of Ed Jr. and his penchant to do evil for evil's sake. Especially if the Hilcocks where to be the targets. Despite the drifting apart Willie still had history with the Hilcocks. If Willie left it to Jr., the Hilcock's would find something beyond even what his old man was wanting. Trapped by his own foolishness and his desire to keep Jr. in check, Willie had little choice.

"So, cap', whats we gonna do to the Hilcock's?" Jr. said with that greedy glint in his eye.

"I don't know yet, gimme time ta thinks," Willie scolded.

"We could put some of that chemical in theys feed, teach 'em ta let them city fellers build that plant on theys property," Jr. added. "Yeah, get some o that chemical they produce and accidently see that it makes its way into theys feed."

"That's too deliberate, it's gotta be more accident and less damage." Willie moaned. "Jus' shutup an' lemme think."

"Well, we gonna do this tonight or what? I got stuff I wants ta do if'n we aint gonna do it tonight," Jr. whinned.

"You can carouse later, one of these days someone's gonna catch you sneakin' out of some bedroom an' shove the buisness end of a shotgun up yer ass," Willie snarled.

"Ain't happen'd yet," Jr. retorted. "Got my eye on some young thing up on the hill, jus' waitin' fer the right time," Jr. said with a grin.

"Well, you can keep it in yer pants tonight, 'cause we've got stuff ta do," Willie said curtly, still having no idea what to do but desirous to save the poor soul from the horror of Jr.'s appitites.

"Well then this had better be worth it," Jr. groused.

Willie buried his head in his hands and wracked his mind to find the least damaging thing that could be done but would also satisfy his master's bidding.

****

Day was breaking and the sun, arching its way over the mountains, cast its long shadows over everything and bathed the face with sweet warmth against the fading chill. Jim got out of his truck and walked over to where his father's was parked along side the boundery between the chemical plant and the rest of his usable land. There was a break in the fence line that paralelled the Happy Valley road and a clear trail of tire tracks leading through the fence and ten feet into Howard's budding corn crop. The ground around where the tire tracks stopped was coated in a greenish goo and it appeared that the goo had been poured from the truck before it backed up and drove out of the field. Jim walked the tire tracks to where Howard stood surveying the mess.

"Come from the chem plant?" Jim asked.

"Don' know, but where else would this stuff come from? It smells like the stuff that comes from that place," Howard surmized.

"Wonder if some delivery truck did this, dumped some accidently then went on theys way?" Jim said and scratched behind his ear. "You'd think they'd at least tole us if it was an accident."

"Yeah, you'd think. It shore was a lot of stuff though, look at how far the spill goes," Howard pointed. The corn was drenched in the liquid along several rows and the goo had drifted down the furrows before settling into the soil. Enough to cover a few hundred yards that radiated out like spkes.

"I'm not even sure we should clean this up; looks dangerous," Jim noted.

"Maybe the pant got somethin' to clean it up with," Howard said and looked out across his growing field.

"Could've been worse I s'ppose, could have been a fire involved an' the whole field ruined," Jim added as he imagined the fire spreading to the adjacent fields. The odor told him that the fire would not easily have been quenched, a mixture of acids and something that smelled of kerosene mixed in. He imagined that the fire would not have stopped but been fed from this small patch of sour smelling chemicals. The soil around the spill was turned from the healty red-brown to a sickly green pallor. Where the liquid had evaporated, like a ring around the entire spill, a crust had formed that was sherbert green in color and flaky to the touch.

"Guess'll go an' talk to that Pembrook feller 'bout this; get him ta lend a hand in clean up," Howard said and trudged out to his pickup leaving Jim standing on the precipice of the spill. Already the infant stalks of corn in and surrounding the spill where wilted, withered as if by a flame and they either shriviled or started to bow down as if in prayer. Turning to his left, the plant stood large in the distance and this field was the closest of Howard's property to the plant. It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to picture how a delivery truck with an open bed could careen off the road and into the field, spilling some of its contents. The whole area would need to be scooped out and the dirt taken someplace to be stored and this field would be lucky to regenerate itself in a few years.

A few hours later the spot was teeming with people, a few just to watch the spectical and the rest to work on the clean up operations. A small conference was being held just at the fence line with Howard and the plant manager and chief engineer.

"I guess this explains the missing drums; after the break in we were missing several drums of kerosene and acetone that we took delivery of last week," Benton said.

"You had a break in?" Jim asked.

"Yes, sometime this weekend, but the drums where the only thing that came up missing. We figured that the delivery guy had shorted us as we didn't count what we took, just signed the shipping manifest," Benten replied and looked out at the small army of workmen shoveling the dirt into drums.

"Doesn't make any sense," George said. "We woudn't have had anyone taking this stuff from us, so the carrier dumped the stuff on the way here and didn't say anything or someone is playing a nasty game."

"From the looks of it," Howard said as he followed the tire marks in the soil down from the road and inot the field. "From the looks of it, the truck was goin' east, not west."

"Nothing else was missing?" Goerge asked Benton.

"No, nothing tampered with either;l Michael and I checked all the equipment this morning and put everything through another qual shakedown just to be safe. If anythign had been tampered with, the shakedown ought to prove it," Benton replied.

"Besides, anything that we're shipping is going out in huge tanker trucks and even if one tipped over nothing would spill out of it unless you purposed to open a valve, and even then it would have been several thousands of gallons of mixture to flood out, this isn't more than a few tens of gallons by the looks of it," George said and folded his arms.

"Som'thin' did it alrighty," Howard said.

"What use would anyone have for those drums but to spill them somewhere?" Benton asked perplexed.

"I suppose we could see if one of the delivery drivers just didn't report the accident," George stated. "I'd expect that it's more plausible that someone was trying to make off with the stuff and lost control though for what they would want that stuff is beyond me."

"You think that is all what was stolen from your plant?" asked Jim.

"We were short three barrels of each from last shipment, twenty five gallons a barrel, that could be the size of it on the field, though I don't know why the barrells weren't left behind if they all emptied out," Benton said as he looked at the spill area.

"I suppose we'll know soon enough if more of the stuff turns up elsewhere," George added. "Well Mr. Hilcock, sorry for the mess. I'm not sure I've ever seen this happen before during shipment of stuff. I don't suppose this patch will be good for any growing for a long while."

"Not gonna break the bank," Howard sighed. "Prolly a couple hundred dollars all told."

"Well, I suppose I'll get back to the office, the work crews know what to do; they don't need me watching them work," George said with a grin and left the group.

"You think someone deliberately did this?" Benton querried.

"Can't see why. The kids like ta take thier cars and run donuts in the fields, or cut the fences an' let the livestock flood the road; but this don't seem like anythin' any kid is gonna pull." Howard pondered.

"Probably one of the dirvers didn't fill out a report for it, we'll find out from the Charleston office for sure, if it was one of ours, you'll get compensation for the damage for sure," Benton said and forced a weak smile.

"The ground's purty resilient, I imagine it'll be useable in a season or two," Howard responded. "I'll trench around it once you fellers is done an' hopefully what washes in the rain'll wash down below root level."

"Whatchoo think, son?" Howard asked Jim.

"Not sure. They's been some bad blood of late 'tween a few folks, could jus' be one of them tryin' to get back at you fer leasing the land to Petro-Chem." Jim paused to comprehend what he had just admitted. The valley wasn't without its politics or its characters. There was always someone getting back at someone else for some slight, either real or imagined. But the level of activity would be confined to a few accepted rules that never overstepped the bounds of good taste or excessive damage to property. The fences left open at night, feed spiked with alcohol so that animals won't eat it, tractors missing thier plugs, and a variety of prankish "gotchas" that irritated but never amounted to anything expensive or malicious.

"They has been some queer things going on up on the hill, but up there it's anybody's guess as ta who, what with all that traffic an all those buisnesses out in easy access," Jim added.

"I suppose it's jus' gonna get worse if it keeps growin' up there; gettin' all sorts of people together like that an' yor bound ta have some issues with space an' the like," Howard said.

"If they vote ta form a village, a full time policeman is in the works, that might help some things," Jim replied. The valley had always operated under a mutual consent to the rights of another person's farm, his tools and implements, and his family abode. "The congregatin' of lots o folks is gonna create some friction."

The workmen were busy scooping up the earth and a truck stood by to recieve the barrels upon its railed flat bed. It was going to take a lot of barrells to clean up the mess, Benton had figured that three thousand cubic meters of earth would need to be captured and quarinteened and the goo had sunk up to a foot deep in places. The field looked scarred and broken and a swath of healthy corn was being trampled by the workmen to a radius of two feet around the contaminated ground, but there wasn't much that could be done about it. With the soil gone, the field would have a permanent dip in its edge; an eventual sink hole i n the making.

"Well, I gotta go run to Hube's an get some more nails fer the fence line," Jim said and nodded to his father and to Benton and walked to his truck. Things still looked about the same, the valley was waking up to the change in the weather and the natural rhythm of the valley floor went on as each species responded to the changes as they were programmed. The hill top looked different each day it seemed to Jim; there was always something new going on, some different building project going up or some new parade of vehicles to pass by. The peace and quiet of the valley floor would give way quickly to the noise of the hill top. It was contrast all the way as the valley floor rose up to meet the hill community with its buildings and people and faces that neither smilled nor expressed anything but boredom. There the people teemed, walked along the brief side walks that lead into each buisness or sat in one of the two restaurants and ignored all but thier companions. It was the comparison of being alone in a field, but not lonely or surrounded by humanity on the hill and lonely, surounded by the lonely.

Jim parked in the almost full parking area next to Hubener's Hardware and noted that the regulars where in attendence for thier afternoon errand run. Though it was the height of the busy growing season, the regulars always seemed to find some excuse to take a break at Hube's store just as Jim himself was about to do.

"Fellers," Jim said as he stepped through the doorway. Willie and Robert where there as well as Frank Billings, another old classmate and farmer who lived two farms over from Jim's land.

"Jim," Robert nodded and smiled.

"How you be?" Frank asked.

"Fine, came fer some nails an' of course the visitin'," Jim replied and nodded. "How you boys be?"

"Fine, not much to go on about," Willie said and turned away.

"I find that hard ta beleive," Jim said with a grin.

"What was all the commotion by your old man's fields?" Frank asked.

"Some chemicals from the plant got spilled into his corn field, ruined a good acre and a half I'd suspect. They're there cleanin' up right now." Jim replied.

"Bastards, that place was bad news from th' beginnin'," Willie said and spat into the cup at his feet.

"Accident?" Robert queried.

"Lookin' that way, though the plant folks say they didn't have no shipments goin' out over the weekend." Jim replied.

"Of course they say that; would they admit it if it was true?" Willie asked. "He's lucky it was just that little patch, could've been a lot worse fer 'im. I tell you fellers, somethin' might have ta be done about them folks."

Jim looked at Willie. His features were hard and his eyes burned with a flame of hatred, a burning that struck him as a little more than the problem warrented in his father's stead. Jim was just as confused at the mess of goo on his fathers field as was everyone there, but there was some hint of foreknowledge in Willie's voice, some taste of malice that surprised him. Willie didn't like the hill folk nor the people associated with the chemical plant and he had made his feelings known now for years. It was this flare that brought the group to silence. Chewing on those words, Jim wondered what, if any, real threat were countinanced. Jim, Frank, and Robert allowed the stoney silence to continue, all of them unwilling to entertain the topic any further.

"Yep, somethin' might have ta be done about that afore too long," Willie repeated and sipped at his mug.

****

On the hill, the place where the valley residents derisively called "them hill folks" time ran at a faster clip than in the valley where change was tracked by the look and hieght of either the wheat or corn. The trees where always there, the fences, the way the fields rippled in the wind like land locked waves of burnished gold or strident green. Time wasn't marked by how many new outbuildings went up on the farmsteads or how much traffic one pulled into thier homes. On the hill, time watched the building of new homes and buisnesses and the expanding dominion of the progressive state; as if they were disconnected with the rest of the valley. When one visited the hill time seemed to slip by much faster than in the steadfastness of the valley environment.

The vote came and went just like the passing of the cars along State214 and the vote brought the officialness of the hopes and dreams of George Pembrook. He finally had his legitimacy, his stamp of approval from both the valley residents and the hill folks who joined him in his quest to build for himself an empire of happenstance and good planning. It was with much pride on a hot and muggy day in June when many of the hill toppers, and not a shameful number of valley folks, attended the ceremony to dedicate the Village of Bumbpersville and unveil the official welcome sign. The hotel was ready soon after as well, its U shape running the length of the four acre site, each room boasting a television, bed, bathroom, a gaudy painting, and reading chairs. Theresa Shields sat the desk for the first full day of operations and took in the first batch of Petro-Chem employees for the week.

Steven Hubener was voted the villages' first president of the Bumpersville JayCees and the local buisness owners found they had thier hands full in molding the budding community into something of respectability while cooperating with one another despite their economic competition. But, buisness was good and even better once the officialness of the encorpration took affect. They even recieved thier first policeman, the largely unknown personage of Ed Tate Jr. along with a few other young men who had chosen to do something else with their time other than farming. The first sheriff was voted into existence and the venerable old Pete Middlebrook won by a large margin against his challenger Steven Hubener. It had been the old verses the new in that race, hotly contested as only small community politics can be, but the plumb went to Pete and he added yet another job to his multi purposed life of grocer, post office, gas station owner, and now sherrif.

The village, the collection of stores, residences, and farmsteads became something more than just sum total of matter occupying space and time. There was now the additional intangible of calling oneself a Bumpersvilleite or as some wags had coined it, a Bumpersvillian. Behind the white wash of the sign that greeted hundreds along State214 each day, there were the good and the bad. Despite the appearances, the unity that George swore was finally upon them, was but the illusion of his wishfull thinking.