Fifty Years of Peace (Abrupt Dissent Series)

by Andrews, Charlotte

  His communications tech poked his head from behind the private quarters’ curtain.

  “Yes sir?”

  “Get me an uplink to Dallas. Immediately.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Arnold swept through the curtain and sat down next to Josey at the computer. They waited for the satellite dish to connect, then the screen blinked with a secured connection that showed a familiar tanned face and white beard.

  “Mr. President,” Arnold said, “my apologies for the interruption.”

  “Your man said it was urgent Linden. How are things out east?”

  “There’s been an attack, a bombing. They tried to assassinate me.”

  “They’re getting bolder.”

  “Yes sir. And I’ve certainly made myself a target.”

  “So, what now?”

  “We’re going to secure the area with the help of the mayor, then question everyone.”

  “Everyone?”

  “There are only a few roads in and out of town. It’s possible.”

  “Where does the mayor stand?”

  “He’s not, at the moment; he took shrapnel in his leg, but he’s with us. He had people die too. He won’t have any reason to resist.”

  “Will the quota be affected?”

  “No sir.”

  “Excellent. Our buyers do not like price fluctuations. How do the crops look out there, by the

  way?”

  “In fine health. No major crop disease I can see.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Overseas they are having significant issues. This shipment will earn us quite a bit of money.”

  “We’re going to need to invest it in the military.”

  “Perhaps. I do know that we have a scout in your area who may be able to help in the meantime.”

  “Will you summon him?”

  “It’s already done; and Linden…”

  “Yes?”

  “The truth does not get out.”

  “You don’t need to remind me sir,” the assemblyman said and cut the connection.

  ***

  Word spread that the festival was cancelled. The vendors packed up in near silence, no one wanting to bring up what they all worried about, war. No one could wait to leave, but the mayor had ordered the roads closed and the sheriff was only letting people out of town after questioning them one by one.

  Jenny had spent a restless afternoon on the ox cart with Manuel, trying to decide what she’d say about George Washington. She’d buried the boy’s note in her cash box and wondered what other horrible things he’d planned to do. But at the same time, he’d been hungry and hadn’t stolen. He’d told her he didn’t want to hurt anyone and she’d watched him cry after he’d almost hurt her. He didn’t seem like the kind of rebel she’d heard the other farmers discussing, someone who wanted to steal their food, and murder the landowners.

  The assemblyman had seemed like a good man, a stern father who knew what was best for his children. He’d been seated closest to where the bomb exploded, and she knew the boy had been trying to kill him, but why? There was so much more to the story that she didn’t understand.

  Slowly, Manuel drove the team toward the log that the police had laid across the highway to block the wagons. She turned to look back at the fairgrounds and saw the coroner leading a wagon with eight bodies under a crimson-stained sheet. She didn’t know what to do.

  One of the Texans was standing with Jacob and two blue-shirted city police officers when Jenny reached the gate. The man wore a wide cowboy hat, and had tucked his thumbs into his gun belt. Something bulged at his lip and he leaned to the side and spit a jet of brown liquid into the grass. The town policemen stood to the side, embarrassed by the whole thing. She felt nervous.

  “Names,” the Texan drawled.

  “That’s Jenny Williams,” Jacob answered, “and Manuel del Norte from the Two Star Ranch.”

  “That’s the tent Assemblyman Arnold pointed out.”

  “Yes sir,” Jenny answered.

  “You were awfully close to the stage. You happen to see anything?”

  Her eyes flashed to Jacob but she couldn’t read his tense face. She didn’t know if she should lie or tell the truth.

  “Ma’am, would you look at me when I’m speaking with you?” the Texan asked.

  “I’m sorry it’s been a hard day, all that blood…” she said, “Is the mayor ok?”

  “He might lose his leg,” Jacob answered.

  “What happened?” Manuel asked.

  “We don’t know just yet,” one of the police officers said. “We’re just trying to understand if anyone saw anything suspicious.”

  She smiled at him, hoping that her face didn’t give anything away. Jacob expected something from her, but she didn’t know what to do and the three townspeople seemed anxious. There was something about the Texan that didn’t seem right, the man seemed almost eager.

  “Jenny, would you give your statement?” Jacob asked. He seemed to be encouraging her, but after this she didn’t know if she could look at him again.

  “I didn’t see anything other than the explosion, sorry.”

  The Texan frowned at Jacob, who seemed surprised.

  “Write that down son. What about you, was it Manuel?”

  “Yes, that’s me, but I’m afraid I can’t help you. I only saw the explosion and the chaos afterward, but nothing suspicious.”

  The Texan looked firmly at Manuel before saying, “Thank you both. You can go now.”

  Manuel shook the reigns, and the cart trudged forward. She tried not to look at Jacob as she passed, knowing she’d disappointed the first boy who’d ever shown any real interest in her. He stared at her for a long time before ducking his head to write something on his clipboard.

  ***

  When they’d driven about halfway to the farm, she looked back to watch the afternoon sunset falling over the skyscrapers of the old city. She thought there had to have been a reason why things were the way they were, but no one would talk about it. People had built the buildings that way for a reason. She knew from talking to others at the market that before the war people had built roads that went through every state. Everyone used to be connected, and they wouldn’t have fought each other unless there had been a very good reason. She needed to know more. She needed to understand.

  That’s why she’d helped the boy, and lied to the Texan. Because she felt like the boy knew something important, and she thought that maybe the Texans knew the same thing.

  “Manuel why do you think someone did that?” she asked.

  Manuel had been wrapping the reigns around his knuckles and then unwrapping them, lost in his own thoughts.

  “If you attack an assemblyman, that’s like attacking the country. It means war. You’d have to know that going into it, so someone must have thought they had a very good reason; one that was worth a whole lot of people dying for.”

  “Why would anyone want that?”

  “I can’t say Jenny. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

  “Has an assemblyman ever come to Louisville as long as you’ve been here?”

  He rubbed at his beard, thinking. “No. This is the first I’ve ever heard of.”

  “He didn’t come in on the train, either.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. You’d think if he was really coming for the Festival and the harvest, he would have come on the train instead of traveling on his own.”

  “That could be. So what was he doing here then?”

  “Manuel, I don’t know what to think. I don’t understand today.”

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Their mechanic wouldn’t let me look at the camper. He didn’t want me there at all, but it had antennas on the roof, and a dish, and wires.”

  “You mean technology?”

  “It could be. I mean, the trailer was from before the war, and they all had that stuff. He just seemed awful suspicious of m
e and I can’t figure out why. I guess it’s a day of not knowing.”

  Manuel had put it exactly right. Looking back again, she saw the mountains shining a darker blue and tried to sort through her thoughts. She’d gotten no further two hours later when they turned down the lane that led to Two Star Ranch.

  The main farmhouse sat on top of a small rise surrounded by fields in all directions. She could see their cattle grazing the scrub forest and grassland all the way down to the river. Outbuildings a few dozen feet from the main house stored the tools and equipment that Grandpa and the other families needed to work the cattle, and the horse barn rested a few hundred feet downhill. Grandpa had told her that the land had been in their family for longer than even he remembered, but that people hadn’t always lived on it. She couldn’t imagine a better place to live and wondered why people would ever choose a city.

  Manuel guided the cart up the drive. She helped him unhitch the team and then led the oxen into the holding ring while Manuel forked hay from a bale for them. By the time they finished it was nearly dark, and when she turned for the house, she saw her grandfather standing on the porch holding a lantern.

  “Grandpa!” she called and ran for him. His smile flashed as she threw her arms around him.

  “Back so early,” he said when she finally released him. “What happened?”

  She told him the story of the bombing, leaving out the part about George Washington, while she helped Manuel and a few of the other field hands stow the remaining cheese back in their curing shed’s cellar. Then she handed him the heavy cash box.

  “We only sold half of what we would,” she said. “Will we have enough money for everything we need this summer?”

  “It’s ok, I’m just happy that you two are safe” Grandpa said to her as they entered the house. “We’ll just need to make some sales calls.”

  “What are those?” Jenny asked.

  “Oh, I forget,” he chuckled. “That’s when you go door to door and sell your product. An assemblyman’s approval is a very big compliment, and I have a feeling a lot of people are going to want to see what they think of his favorite cheese.”

  She washed the dirt of the road from her hands and face and then sat down with Grandpa for a dinner of fresh sausage, broccoli, lettuce, the first of the tomatoes, and blackberries from the edge of the woods.

  “Sally was at the butter churn all day…” Grandpa said as he handed her a saucer of butter, “What do you think?”

  She spread the butter over a slice of rough wheat bread and swallowed.

  “It’s delicious,” she said, but in truth she barely noticed it. Her thoughts had turned back to the bombing.

  “All right miss. Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind?” Grandpa asked.

  She stared out the kitchen window but couldn’t see anything beyond the oil lamp’s glow.

  “Grandpa what happened? Why did we go to war?”

  He set down his fork and knife, then took one of his thick fingers and played with the lamp’s wick key. His voice sounded sad when he finally responded.

  “I’ve told you I’m not going to talk about the war with you. It was three generations ago and we are behind it now. You post-threes make your own way. You don’t need us pre-wars weighing down your hearts and minds.”

  “But it’s important Grandpa! There was a bombing today! I could have easily been killed and I don’t even know why. I don’t know why the war started way back when, and I don’t know why anyone would want to bomb the stage or kill the assemblyman… and the reason I don’t know any of this, is because you, and my teachers, and everyone else is either unwilling to tell me or is in the same boat I’m in and doesn’t have a clue what happened!”

  “Jenny…”

  “If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to share it with anyone?”

  “Of course Jenny, we’re family.”

  “I saw who bombed the stage. It was a boy, not much older than me who called himself George Washington. I think he wanted to kill the assemblyman.”

  Her grandfather sucked in a breath. He stood to peer out the window, and then checked the front and back doors before returning to the kitchen table.

  “Does anyone else know about this?” he asked.

  “Yes, Jacob does.”

  “The mayor’s clerk?”

  “He saw George and I come out from backstage. I followed George because I thought he’d been stealing.”

  “Oh Jenny...” He sat down next to her and held her hand, rocking back and forth. In the lamplight, he seemed even more aged, the spots along his scalp puckering his skin and what remained of his gossamer hair in the dim light.

  “What do I do Grandpa?”

  “What you do is tell the truth. We’re going to go back to the mayor first thing tomorrow and you’re going to tell him what happened. He can’t know that you lied Jenny.”

  Her grandfather’s hand was warm in hers, and she traced the lighter scars and knots of his old skin with her index finger.

  “Grandpa, I didn’t tell them because I don’t believe what everyone says about why the war started. It doesn’t make sense that we were one country and then fought each other, and that so many people died.”

  “No it doesn’t Jenny…”

  “How could we have just one day run out of food when there was so much? I don’t even know what happened to my parents. All I have is you, and you won’t talk to me!”

  “Jenny!”

  “No! I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being treated like a child. I’m not someone you have to protect any more. I took the cheese to the market and I did that all by myself because you can’t even go because you’re afraid, and you won’t tell me why. If you won’t tell me what really happened so I can make my own choices then I don’t want to talk to you!”

  With that, she tore her hand from his and stormed up to her room, leaving him alone in the flickering glow of his hurricane lamp.

  Chapter Seven

  “Is that right?” Assemblyman Arnold combed his long fingers through his beard.

  “That’s right,” the tracker said, “three of them on the bridge two nights ago.”

  “And you didn’t think it pertinent to inform me that there might be spies at the festival?”

  “With due respect to your position within our government and all sir, those were not my orders. I’m not ever supposed to be seen. I technically don’t exist, and it would have been a compromise of mission security if I’d approached you.”

  “The Assembly is going to hear about this,” Arnold said. “I should have you arrested and sent back immediately.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “Don’t talk back to me!” Arnold burst out.

  “I’m the only one that knows what the kid looks like.”

  “You don’t even know it was him.”

  “No, but I’d say the odds are pretty good.”

  Arnold considered this tracker dressed in hunting camouflage. The man’s muddied rucksack rested in the trailer’s corner along with the sheath that carried his pre-war rifle. He wore a knife and pistol at his waist with another knife in his boot that he’d refused to relinquish before coming into the trailer. He needed this man, but he didn’t have to like him.

  “I want to make one thing clear to you, the President Hickock himself has put you under my authority, and that means you will show me the proper respect.”

  “Of course sir, my apologies,” the man smiled, showing teeth stained from poor care.

  “Good. Now I want you to find this boy, and when you do, I want you to help me prove the United States did this to the people. That is your new priority.”

  “Understood sir. There’s just one more thing I’d like to ask...”

  Arnold glared at Dillon.

  “Go ahead.”

  “If I may Assemblyman, why would they make you a target? If we can prove the United States tried to kill you, we’d have every right to go to war, but no one wants that. There isn’t somethi
ng else going on that your faithful servant here should know about, is there?”

  Arnold’s heavy eyebrows shadowed his eyes.

  “Even if there was, it would certainly be out of your pay grade. Now come with me.”

  ***

  “I’m not going to take it off,” Doc Stinson called to the mayor. “Would you quit your whining?”