by Dave Balcom
“Your relatives had no right opening fire on the Sweet home in Elliotsville last night, and somebody has no right keeping that man’s wife away from him, but because your relatives attacked the Sweet family and had a kidnapped girl for the last few days, these men have the right to search your property. I have a right to ask you questions, and if you don’t answer them, I’ll have the right to arrest you on a charge of obstructing justice.
“It would be a mistake on your part, Mr. Flynt, to think I wouldn’t do just that. Now you tell your folks here to get in line to be questioned either by me or Mr. Stanton over there, and step lively.”
Chance backed away, looked around and then headed for a picnic table under a tree. “I’ll be over here, Jim; you take the side porch.
“Ben? Let’s get moving.”
The old man walked through his group, pushing one person toward the table, another towards the porch until all had been directed. He then resumed his watch on his house. There was no sound coming from the three-story building.
“May I ask your name, ma’am?” I greeted the first woman to walk up to me.
“Gracie Flynt.”
“And your relationship to Ben?”
“Wife. I’m mother to the next three in line. They weren’t in town last night; they were here with me.”
“Did you know any of the boys who were in town last night?”
“I don’t know who was there, but if they were part of the Flynt family, I probably do know ’em, but that’s not sayin’ I approve of what they done.”
“Have you any information about this woman?” I held up Jan’s photo from my wallet. She looked at it and shook her head. “No. I would remember. I saw her picture on the television when she was taken. Is that what this is all about?”
“You might never have seen her but still know something about her. Did you hear about the Parker girl who was found yesterday at Grayson’s?”
“I did. In fact, I heard about her being there before I heard that she had been forced to be there.”
“Where did you hear about her being kidnapped?”
“After she was taken home, everybody was talkin’ about it. We’re not the kind of people who take on after children.”
“But you don’t seem too shocked that your family might shoot up a house full of women and children.”
“I’m not, but I’m not for it, neither. I don’t hold with declarin’ blood feuds over money.”
“Feuds?”
She looked startled at me, and then became flustered. I could see that she’d said something that she shouldn’t have, and I realized at the same time that I’d blown it by showing my surprise.
“Are you saying that a “blood feud” has been declared against the Sweet family over the sweepstakes prize?”
“I prob’ly said too much.”
“I don’t get it, Gracie. I’m not from here; so I don’t know how feuding really works.”
She shrugged her shoulders, “I’m not the one to teach you.”
“Who would be the one?”
“One of the men, Ben or Grayson maybe, but they don’t take part.”
“Who does, Gracie? Who would take my wife as part of a feud with the Sweets?”
She just shrugged, and I knew I’d gotten all I was going to get.
“Thanks.” I looked over her shoulder, “Next?”
The rest of my flock was too young, and I soon believed too cowed, to be of any help. When I’d finished gathering names and ages, I walked over to where Ben was still standing and watching his house, the vacant look still on his face.
“Mr. Flynt, Ben,” I said as a way of introduction, “I need some help understanding the concept of a feud...”
He turned slightly towards me and his eyes had narrowed, “Who said anything about a feud?”
“I just need to understand; feuds aren’t something I’ve had much experience with, but I was wondering, can a family find itself in a feud without having committed some kind of offense or another?”
“Not that I know of.”
“So how could there be a blood feud between the Sweets and the Flynts?”
“Accumulated grievances can be just as much harm as a beatin’ or a shootin’.”
“So there have been accumulated issues between these two families?”
“Seems as so.”
“You personally been aggrieved?”
He hesitated for a few seconds, “Not that I recall.”
“Your wife? Your children?”
He shook his head.
“So if some other member of the family had such a grievance, they could call a feud and you’d go along with it? Would there be some kind of family council or meeting to discuss it or could one member of the family make the move, say kidnap a kid, and the rest of the clan would just go along with it?”
He shook his head as if to say I was talking crazy. “Ain’t no family council. There’d be talk; folks would agree to the need to retaliate.”
“Did that happen here? Is that why my wife was taken? Because some member of your family was angry at the Sweet family’s good fortune and angry at me because I encouraged the Sweets to contact the FBI?”
“If all that’s true and your wife’s gone, what’s your question?”
“I’m just trying to understand, Ben.
“So, if I’m understanding you, if my wife ends up missing forever or found dead or even just injured, you wouldn’t have any moral problem when I came back here and killed everyone one of you miserable fools, every man, woman and child. Is that right?”
“It would be if I held with feudin’ which I don’t. I’m not part of it, never been.”
“Then it would seem to me that you, a man who values your wife and kids, would turn to me and recognize how much I love my wife, and you’d tell me where I should be looking today instead of wastin’ time with you.”
He gave a huge sigh and shook his head some more before he finally looked me in the eye, “Seems like it...” And then he walked to his wife as the door to his house opened and state troopers who had been searching the house filed out into the sunlight.
Chapter 58
The leader of the troopers joined up with Chance and they leaned against the county car to share notes. Ben herded his family into the house. As he got to the door, he turned and stood there, looking at me.
“Jefferson,” Chance said as I walked up, “Meet Jim Stanton from Oregon. He’s helping me with my investigation into the shooting last night. Jim, Sergeant Dave Jefferson.”
We shook hands, as Chance continued, “You find anything noteworthy in there?”
Jefferson was in his early forties. He removed his cap and showed his impressive tan line just below his curly red hair. “Not much; couple of weapons, all hunting stuff, really. Nice home, well maintained. Working family.”
“Where you off to next?”
Jefferson pointed, “Up that drive there on the left are three houses and a couple of outbuildings. Then up that other trail to the right, there’s an older home; looks pretty rugged. I’m not sure anyone lives there, but behind that, I’m told, are a couple of caves we’ll have a look at.”
“You want Jim and I to take the place on the right, then we’ll come back and question the folks at the little enclave.”
“I’d better send McCoy and Reilly with you then; they’re all excited about caves.” He gave a shudder, “I’m not that eager to poke around under the ground.”
“We’ll take ’em.”
The two troopers climbed into the cruiser. Chance drove slowly up the trail, “Let’s all of us stick together until we know what we’re finding here, okay?”
When we parked and got out of the car I studied a porch that was just about buried under some of the biggest lilac bushes I’d ever seen. The shade from the bushes and the screen made it impossible to see anyone who might be on the porch.
Then the screen door opened and an elderly woman stepped out, “What you men doin’ in my yard?” S
he stood there; all five foot nothing of her, with a double barrel shotgun in the crook of her arm.
“I’m Sheriff Bill Chance, ma’am. I have a search warrant to look about your home and property for evidence pertaining to an attack made last night on a home in Elliotsville.”
“I’m Patty Flynt,” the old woman said in a firm and steady voice. “I’ve lived in this house all my seventy years, and nobody’s comin’ in here and pokin’ around in my life. Not you, not them, not anybody.”
“Miss Flynt,” Chance started to say.
“Nobody!” She screamed, and I had a sudden flashback to another angry woman in another time.
I was about to yell a warning to Chance when I saw movement out of my left eye, and Ben Flynt was running up the path to the porch door. “Patty,” he shrieked. “Put that gun down now!”
His appearance startled all of us, her included, but he didn’t stop. He ran up the steps to her and yanked the shotgun out of her hands. “Shame on you!”
She blinked at him for a second, “Oh, Ben. You know that damn thing isn’t loaded. I haven’t fired a shotgun for twenty years, but I don’t want these people traipsin’ through my place.”
He gently grabbed her by the elbow and started herding her back onto the porch, “You get yourself on that rocker and stay out of these boys’ way, you hear?”
Without another word, she stomped back inside. Ben let the door close and turned towards us. “You men might be careful in there, you know?”
“Jim, you want to stay out on the porch with Mrs. Flynt? We’ll give the house a once over,” Chance said quietly as he could.
The three men went inside, and Ben and I took seats on either side of the woman called Patty.
“Aunt Patty, I want you to meet Jim Stanton from Oregon,” Ben said in a soft voice. “He’s here because one of the things they’re looking for is his wife.”
“Well, she’s not in my house, I can assure you of that,” Patty said in the petulant voice of a youngster feeling misunderstood. I took the time to really look at her, and I saw the knob of hair at the back of her head was neat and tight and a long pin that had a big black bulb on one end was holding it that way. She had no lipstick, but I realized she was wearing face powder. I hadn’t seen a woman wearing powder since my mom; I didn’t realize anybody did that any more. Her eyes were the palest blue you could imagine, but they were alert and bright, and I could see pure anger reflected there.
“Of course not,” Ben said comfortingly. “But in this case, what with all the stuff that’s been going on in this valley, you can’t blame them for wanting to be sure.”
“I’m... we’re... not part of any of that, can’t you tell them?”
“Of course I’ve told them, but, again, if it were my wife or Uncle Buck, and the situation was reversed, you’d want to know for sure; wouldn’t you?”
She didn’t respond to him, but turned to me. “My manners are not what they should be this morning, Mr. Stanton. What part of ‘orey-gun’ are you from?”
“The eastern side, Mrs. Flynt.”
“Dryer than the devil on that side, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’ve been there?”
“Never been anywhere ’cept the library when I was young, and now we have all those channels that’ll take you anywhere and let you learn most anything. No reason to leave home; you kin still travel the world.”
She shifted her weight, as if she were uncomfortable sitting so long, “Why’d you come to Missouri in the first place?”
“Ed Sweet asked me for help.”
“You known Ed long?”
“We were in high school together.”
“And he called you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She turned to Ben, “He’s polite for a Yankee.”
Ben just smiled.
She turned back to me, “I thought maybe you’d come visitin’ after you heard about Ed bein’ rich ‘n’ all...”
“I came because he asked me to help him deal with threats he’d received against his grandchildren.”
“And you brought your wife with you?”
I nodded.
“And you think it was some Flynt that took her away, and threatened Ed Sweet’s grandchildren?”
I didn’t say anything, but she was nodding again. I wasn’t all that surprised when she turned to her nephew, “What has this family come to that it makes war on wives and children, Benjamin? You have anything to do with this? In my Buck’s time, he would have turned this valley inside out to find this man’s woman or that Parker gal... you? What are you and Grayson or that Reggie, what are any of you doin’?”
“We are letting the police officials do their job.”
“What, you mean you’re telling Mr. Stanton that you didn’t see nothin’ or hear nothin’ or that you don’t know nothin’ and you call that lettin’ them do their job?
“Mr. Stanton, my late husband didn’t hold back when he thought he was wronged, and you can count on that; but he would never have condoned what you think is goin’ on here. They don’t tell women much around here, but if I knew anything you’d be hearin’ it all ’bout now.”
She had worked herself up to the point that spittle was spraying with her every word.
I was watching Ben Flynt and seeing him growing paler by the minute, but just as I thought he might be ready to say something, the door opened and Chance and his two troopers came out on the porch.
“Didn’t find nothin’ did ya?” The old lady challenged the sheriff.
“No, ma’am, we didn’t,” Chance said politely. “Now we’ll just go look around a bit more. Jim?”
“I think I’ll sit here a while longer, Sheriff.” That took him by surprise, but he covered it well, I thought.
“Fine, we’ll be back in a bit.”
We watched the men work their way through what appeared to be a shed used to park an old pickup, and then disappear into the barn that had no chance of keeping anything dry and might not survive the next good blow.
“They’re not gonna find nothin’ in there, either,” Patty said almost to herself.
“Ben,” I said softly, “I thought you might be about to say something when the sheriff came out...”
“No, I don’t think I was...”
“Was Patty right? Are you family leaders playing deaf, dumb and blind?”
Patty broke out into a smile, “Like those monkeys!” She started to laugh, a brittle cackling sound, and I got a glimpse of what she might have been once, the phrase “piece of work” flashed through my mind. “See no evil, hear no...”
“Patty, please,” Ben interrupted her. “It’s not like that at all, at least it isn’t that simple.” She quit talking, but kept cackling just the same.
“How about trying to explain it to me then?” I asked quickly.
Ben was looking down at his hands, and I knew he was on the verge of something. I waited.
Chapter 59
When he started talking, I wasn’t sure he was addressing my question or not. It seemed more like he was telling us a story.
“For time out of mind this valley has been home to the Flynt family. Our family came west out of the Appalachians. They’d been farmers in the old country, and that’s what they were looking for, a place where they could work the land, raise cattle and sheep, make a life...
“When they packed up and moved, the rest of the little group turned south, ended up in the Ozarks of northern Arkansas, but our folks moved straight on and came to the Chariton river, and liked the looks of the land... When they saw this valley, they never took another step.
“All of us today, we grew out of that original family. There were four brothers, their wives, and their kids. My great-great-grandfather, Patty’s grandfather, was Caleb, the youngest of the four. He had some education and went on to be a teacher. His older brother, Micah, was the patriarch of the group, and he had started the whole family’s migration to America when he killed a man in retaliation of someth
ing or another. The local authorities, rather than letting that feud keep simmering, sentenced him to indentured service and shipped him and his brothers and their families to America.
“My great-great-granduncle Peter was a man of God and he and his brother Samuel along with Caleb were straight-laced believers in hard work, parsimony and independence.
“Micah was a hellion. He probably did more for creating family wealth than the other three, and he was prolific. He had children by as many as six different women, who lived in this valley, too...”
“That’s all very interesting, Ben,” I interrupted, “but I don’t see...”
“I know, it’s a long way around to try and explain this family and the complexities that make being part of this so difficult, but if you didn’t know how it all started, then you’d never understand why so many of us aren’t standing up and pointing fingers at others in this family.
“See, all of us were raised on that story, and many, many more like it, but all with the same moral: Family is not the most important thing; it’s the only thing.
“We’ve had that drilled into our beings since birth. Our family has suffered droughts, blizzards, economic depression, wars and plague – and in every situation there was some element of this family that needed the support and trust of the others, and every time it was there – every damned time.”
It was very quiet on that porch. I could hear the sounds of the forest, the hum of insects and the mutterings of birds. I could hear the soft rustle of leaves against the eaves of the porch, and I could hear the slight sound of grit grinding under Patty’s rocker.
“I guess you Flynts have to decide if protecting the kind of people who’d steal a little girl or a man’s wife just to get their hands somehow on a piece of Ed Sweet’s fortune is really the same as a family weathering a storm or finding the money to pay the taxman.”
“You don’t get it. They don’t want any part of that money; they just don’t want Ed Sweet to have it.”
“Why? What has Ed Sweet done to the Flynts?”
“Nothing overt, but that doesn’t really change anything. You see, Ed Sweet is part of ‘them.’”
