All Men Fear Me (22 page)

Chapter Fifty-seven

“Watch your neighbor. If he is not doing everything in his power to help the nation in this crisis, see that he is reported to the authorities.”

—
Tulsa Daily World

After he punched his time card and hung up his hat in the changing room, Henry flopped down on the bench next to Charlie. “How you doing, young'un?”

“All right, I reckon.”

“I hear your sister had some trouble out at her place. I'm sorry to hear it.”

Charlie couldn't meet his eyes. “I'm sorry too. Mary don't deserve it, that's for sure.”

Henry flung an arm over Charlie's shoulder. “Well, I sure don't hold it against your brother-in-law that he was born in Germany, and anybody that does is a dang jackass.”

The way that Henry spat out the word “jackass” made Charlie smile. “I agree with you. Kurt can't help where he was born.”

“Nor can any of us,” Henry agreed. “Well, anyhow, I just want you to know that not everybody thinks like Billy Claude Walker and his gang.”

“I appreciate that.” Charlie studied Henry out of the corner of his eye for a moment as they chewed their sandwiches. Henry might be a decade older than Charlie, but he had always treated Charlie like a friend. “Say, Henry, I've been mulling over the what has been going on here at the plant over the past weeks.”

Henry didn't look at him. “Have you, now?”

“Somebody is trying to sabotage production.”

“Some folks think so.”

“I'm one of them. Mr. Ober thinks so, too, considering how he's added armed men to the night watch.”

“Do you have some notion of who might be behind it all?”

Charlie bit his lip. He trusted Henry, but did he dare? “Promise you won't tell a soul?”

The blue eyes widened. “Well, now, I don't know about that, especially if you're about to tell me it's you. I don't want to be thrown in the clink as an accessory to treason.”

It took Charlie a moment to realize he was being teased. “No, it ain't me.” He hesitated, and took a breath. “Have you heard about my uncle who is visiting out to our farm?”

The corners of Henry's mouth lifted. “The rabble-rousing Wobblie? Yeah, I heard.”

So much for keeping Robin's socialist leanings a secret. Charlie cast a glance around. “Listen, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that to yourself, in case there's somebody in all of Boynton who ain't heard it. Anyway, my uncle just came to Boynton to visit with my ma for a spell, and he's swore on a stack of Bibles that he's not here to cause trouble.”

“Don't worry, young'un. I don't care what your uncle's philosophy is and don't intend to spread the word. Every man to his own affairs, I say.”

“Good. Thanks. I don't agree with my uncle, but I like him a lot. The thing is I saw him talking to old Dutch Leonard who got let go from the plant for getting into it with Billy Claude Walker at the Liberty Sing. If Dutch is an anti-war unionist, he might be the type to engage in sabotage. Maybe killing, too.”

Charlie's reasoning intrigued Henry. “You suspect your uncle is involved?

“No, no. Lord, I hope not. But Robin might have given old Dutch some ideas without knowing how far he'd go.”

“Have you asked your uncle what him and Leonard were talking about? Have you told anybody what you saw?”

Charlie shook his head. “No, I haven't. Uncle Robin is getting ready to leave, anyway. But what if it is Dutch Leonard? And what if somebody saw him and Robin talking and figured they're in it together? I don't want anybody to go off half-cocked and decide my whole family is involved.”

“Why are you telling me this, Charlie? What do you want me to do about it? I'm not confronting Dutch Leonard, that's for sure.”

“I ain't asking you to. No, I'm thinking that if I could get a handle on who the saboteur is, then my uncle and my whole family would be off the hook. And I got a strong feeling it's Dutch Leonard.”

Henry huffed and leaned back on the bench. “You know, Charlie, even if Dutch was the one who was messing with the machinery, he could have been doing it while he was on the job. And if it is him, how are we going to know when and where he'll strike next? This is a big area to keep an eye on.”

“I don't know for sure. But listen, you know how there's a couple carloads of bricks sitting on the side rail, ready to ship out to Fort Bliss day after tomorrow? Well, I'm thinking that it would be a fine opportunity for an outlaw to do something to keep that shipment from leaving out.”

Henry thought it over for a moment. “Sounds like you'd make a good saboteur yourself, if you ever decide to change professions. So what are we going to do to stop this from happening? When we see Dutch sidling up to the rail car with a stick of dynamite, shall we jump out and throttle him?”

“I ain't got that far yet. There are two of us and one of him, though.”

“What if he's armed? Besides, I'm not much of a brawler.”

“Well, maybe it's enough if we catch him in the act. If we holler loud enough, a few of them armed guards will come a'running before Dutch can do any damage.”

“You think he's going to sneak back in the dead of night now that Mr. Ober has hired all these bulls to patrol around at night? How can you can catch him if the law and all the king's men can't?”

Henry had more counter-arguments than Charlie had arguments, but the boy was not dissuaded. “I've got to try. I got a Red in the family and a German, too. If I can help catch this traitor then nobody is going to question where the Tuckers' loyalties lie.”

An expression of surprised sympathy passed over Henry's face and was gone. He leaned forward and draped his forearms over his knees. “I suspect you have a plan.”

The fact that Henry hadn't laughed at him or dismissed his fears out of hand gave Charlie a surge of confidence. “Well, I been thinking about it, Henry. Dutch is not going to try and walk right in the front gate. But he worked here a long time. He knows how to get around without being seen. And I've seen him, real early in the morning, creeping around the clay hill behind the plant and entering at a place where a section of the fence has fallen down. I went and had a look at it myself the other day.”

Henry considered this for a moment. “All right, say you're right. What do you propose we do about it?'

“Let's set a watch on that gap in the fence tonight. With all the guards wandering around, Dutch will have to sneak into the plant. And he knows to use that gap to slip in unseen.”

Henry smiled and looked away, but didn't try to come up with another objection. He could see that Charlie was going to attempt this clandestine surveillance, no matter what he said. He shook his head. “All right, young'un. I don't know whether you're smarter than everybody in town or just love to chase wild geese, but I'd hate to see you get your head stove in. I'll watch with you.”

Charlie bit his lip. “We may have to keep an eye on that gap for more than one night.”

“Well, I don't know how long I'll be up for nighttime skullduggery, Charlie. My delicate constitution flags without a good night's sleep.”

Charlie's face fell, and Henry chuckled. “I'll tell you what. I'll give you until the shipment for Bliss goes out. That's two nights. If nothing happens, will you give this up?”

“It's a deal!”

Chapter Fifty-eight

“One Thousand Possemen Prepare to Round Up
Four Hundred Heavily Armed Rioters Near Sasakwa”

—
Tulsa Daily World
, August 4, 1917

Nick snatched his bowler off his head as he stood in front of the deputy's desk. “Good afternoon,” he said. “Is the constable about?”

Trent cocked his head, curious. The nondescript man with the little white scar was a stranger to him, but he could swear there was something familiar about the eyes. “No, Mr. Tucker isn't here right now. Is there something I can do to help you?”

Nick sat down. “I contemplated for days whether or not to come in and tell you about this, Deputy. I'm just passing through town and I don't like getting mixed up in things that are none of my business. But I been thinking about it and I figure it's my duty to let y'all know that I heard something the other night that you'll want to look into. It sounded like treason to me.”

Trent blinked at him. “Well, then you'd better tell me what you heard.”

“It was at the Liberty Sing on Friday. That was quite the event, I must say. I applaud your sheriff for his peacekeeping abilities. Nothing gets rioters' attention like blasting a hole in the ceiling. Anyway, I didn't want to get caught up in the brawling, so I was heading back for my room when I passed by three fellows standing in the shadows at the back of the building with their heads together. I heard one of them say something about the Industrial Workers of the World, so I strolled by real casual and hid myself behind a bush around the corner so I could hear what they were talking about.”

Nick gave a self-depreciating smile. “I know it's unseemly to eavesdrop, but I recognized one of them as the man who started the fracas. He had on this tall hat. You know, the one who told your CD man to shut up?”

Trent was interested, now. “Yes, I know who you mean.”

“I could hear them pretty well. The tall-hat one and his friend were making arrangements with the third man to go with them to meet with a bunch of draft-resisters. Seems that a mob of them are getting together to form an army and start an uprising. The young one plans to meet the third guy tomorrow morning out behind the Masonic Hall and lead him to the place where the rebels are camped. Someplace called Sasakwa.”

So it was true. Trent could hardly keep from dashing out the door to find Scott. “Did they say what time they're meeting?”

“Early. I heard them say around dawn.”

“Is Dutch going, too?”

“Dutch?”

“The one in the tall hat.” Trent sounded impatient.

“He didn't say so. Just the young one, the Indian.”

“Can you describe the third one?”

“Wiry little fellow with a beard. Had on an U.S. Army uniform hat. They said he was a Wobblie.”

***

Scott didn't bother to say hello to his deputy when he strode into the jailhouse with a piece of paper in his hand. “I just got a wire from Sheriff Duncan over in Pontotoc County. He's asking for volunteers to ride on a large gathering of W.C.U. agitators who have gathered near Little River with a mind to start a rebellion.”

Trent stood up so quickly that his chair nearly tipped over. “Scott, there was man in here not five minutes ago who told me that he overheard three fellows planning to leave out tomorrow to join up with an army of draft resisters not far from Sasakwa. Said one of them was the man with the tall hat who started the riot—Dutch Leonard.”

Scott's eyebrows knit. “Who was this helpful eavesdropper?”

“I didn't know him. Called himself Nick Smith. Said he hasn't been in town but a little while and didn't fancy getting mixed up in doings that were none of his business, but he had been thinking about it and he couldn't conscience treason. He told me he's staying at Miz Worley's, in case you want to talk to him.”

“Did he describe the other two conspirators?”

“Said there was a young one who looked like an Indian.” Trent hesitated and bit his lip. “He said the other one was a wiry little fellow with a beard and a U.S. Army uniform hat.”

Scott lowered himself into one of the chairs under the window
.

Trent plowed on. “Mr. Smith said the young one made plans to meet the bearded fellow at dawn tomorrow, out behind the Masonic Hall, and lead him to the place where the rebels are camped.”

Scott unlocked his desk drawer and retrieved his gun belt. “Let's go talk to this Nick Smith.”

***

Mrs. Worley had never heard of Nick Smith. Scott and Trent stood together in the middle of the road in front of the boarding-
house for a few minutes to consider their options.

“Well, Trent, what did Smith look like?”

“Not much of anything. Ordinary as dirt. He had a little scar next to his right eye. Oh, and he did have on one of them hats that look like an upside-down pot.”

“He don't sound familiar to me,” Scott admitted. “Do you reckon he was trying to send us on a wild goose chase?”

“Listen, I hate to, but got to say it…” Trent's face flushed as only a redhead's can.

“So say it.”

“All this trouble started after Ruth's uncle Rob Gunn came to town.”

Scott was not surprised at Trent's suspicion. “You think Rob Gunn is behind all this trouble?”

“I don't know. I only met him a couple times and he seemed all right. But Ruthie told me right off that he's a Wobblie organizer. And she also told me that he's leaving Boynton tomorrow.” Trent had formed an opinion about Rob Gunn which wasn't all that complimentary. Still. “I hope to heaven he ain't involved. I'd hate to have to look Ruth in the eye if we have to arrest her mother's brother for sedition.”

“I'll tell you what, son, let's you and me try to follow these two rebels after they meet up at the Masonic Hall in the morning. Maybe we can nip this uprising in the bud and save Ruth's kin to boot.”

Chapter Fifty-nine

“There is a wrong organization in Pontotoc, Seminole, Pottawatomie…counties, the purpose
of which is to resist the draft law.”

—
Ada Weekly News
, August 2, 1917

Following Rob Gunn and Dick Miller from Boynton to the rebel headquarters outside of Sasakwa wasn't easy for Scott and Trent. Scott wished mightily that Rob had just left town on his own never to be heard from again. But as it was, he felt he had no choice but to see for himself what was Rob was up to and stop him if he could. If Rob was planning to join the insurgents just as Sheriff Duncan and his posse converged on the slacker army with guns blazing, there wouldn't be anything Scott could do to keep the situation from going to hell. Rob would either end up dead or in Leavenworth.

Trent met up with Scott at the jailhouse before dawn with two saddled horses in tow, and were well hidden by the time Rob rendezvoused with his contact. Miller picked Rob up in an automobile, which caused the men on horseback some consternation at first. But the roads were so bad that Miller and Rob spent about as much time pushing the auto out of ruts and changing flat tires as they did driving in a forward direction. Sometimes the lawmen had to spend half an hour at a time sitting in the saddle, watching them from the woods off to the side of the road. It was late in the afternoon by the time they got where they were going.

Scott and his deputy dismounted and followed along on foot as the straining auto headed deeper into the trees. It wasn't long until they began to hear voices ahead. A lot of voices. Scott motioned to Trent and they stopped as Miller's auto ground to a halt twenty feet ahead of them.

Trent followed Scott's lead and tied Brownie's reins to a skinny blackjack before the two of them crept forward. They were at the bottom of a craggy hill. A red flag flapped from a pole at the crest, near a broad, flat tree trunk. Trent drew a breath. There were at least a couple hundred people gathered in the clearing.

Scott surveyed the situation for some minutes. By following Rob he had found the rebel army. Yet he was disappointed that he was not going to be able to do anything for his shirttail kin. It was too late. Rob was in the middle of the enemy camp. “I think we'd better withdraw,” Scott whispered. “Let's ride south and see if we can meet up with Duncan and his posse before they get here.”

The two men scooted backwards on their bellies until they were far enough into the woods not to be seen, then crept back to where the horses were tied.

Someone was there ahead of them. Standing at Brownie's shoulder was a rough-looking old man in overalls and bare feet. He greeted them with the barrel of a shotgun.

“We've come to join the revolution,” Scott said, without missing a beat.

“Your tin badge says otherwise,” the man replied. “But I ain't one to judge. What's the password?”

Scott knew they were sunk. “Don't know. But I finally had enough. I want to join up.”

The old man wasn't buying it. “Reckon you can join after I tie you up to yonder persimmon tree. Go ahead on, then, and don't make any quick moves or I'll send you both to hell.”