Emmetsburg: Sixty-one

Pale. It was a larger than usual rabble in front of Himmel's General store in Mallard. There was a tension to the tight clusters of men. It was the weight and the ominous uncertainty born from men's convictions. It was, in a very real sense, a war council.

The day was overcast and humid. An unseasonably cool wind came out of Canada, bringing a weight to the day that gave some the sense of impending calamity, and others the feeling of a funeral, like the injustice of a child's burial in which there are no decent resolutions.

In the distance, a muddled pillar of smoke rose to meet those shrouded gray clouds. Now and then the men collected in front of Himmel's would look to that smoke with something approaching resignation, but more akin to guilt. They knew. If they hadn't known then, they all knew now, and by being here shared in that common action. Invariably, when they looked, their eyes drew a line to what they knew were the smoldering remains of C.W. Saunder's home.

Myron Himmel knew as well. He knew more than the others and felt doomed for his part in the crime. Standing in the road, in the shadow of the church across the road, Myron wondered if the path to redemption was in throwing himself upon the alter and confessing his crimes before Jesus Christ, or whether seeing this through was the surer path.

It wasn't simple enough to choose sides. The sides had been chosen for him. It wasn't simple enough to paint one side good and the other evil. Each side was right and wrong in equal proportions. It was just that as each side dug in their heals harder and harder, each side abandoning the foolish notion of compromise, the fight became more about ego and past transgressions than about a mutually beneficial resolution. Each side demonized the other in ever darkening degrees so that now all that remained was to vanquish and destroy the other side. All this for the words of fools and the specter of fear in men’s hearts.

Avery came up and stood beside Myron. Neither acknowledged the other right off. Their gaze was fixed upon the smoke rolling lazily skyward from C.W.'s house. An hour ago that smoke had been black and boiling. It was a softer gray now, just a bit darker than the clouds that consumed it ultimately. Avery looked over at Myron, trying to figure what was going through his mind. It didn't take a lot of figuring.

“It's a hard thing,” said Avery

Myron didn't answer right away. Avery could see that the boy was tearing himself to pieces, which was dangerous at a moment like this.

“Took a big step today,” said Avery. He looked up the road again. “They have to know that we are serious.”

“Don't know, Mister Lysander.”

“What would your father have done?”

Again, Myron didn't answer right off. He'd come upon a single thought in answer to Avery's question. It was the clearest and steadiest he'd had since his father'd passed. The boy looked to the ground, changed deeply by the morning's events. If he had looked over at Avery that moment he would have seen the man for what he truly was. He might have, but Myron never looked over.

“Don't think my dad would have gone for all this.” Myron could almost hear his father's voice.

“Knew your dad a lot of years, boy,' said Avery, with a scolding quality. He wasn't about to allow any of this to unravel. “One thing he wouldn't stand for was bad men taking advantage of poor hardworking folks. He wouldn't let some bureaucrat destroy lives with the stroke of a pen. Am I right? I am, ain't I?”

Myron squinted, still struggling. He replied, but certainly unconvinced. “Suppose.”

“Alot of us took a big risk coming out to stop those inspectors from ruining everything your father worked and sweated his whole life to build. We didn't have to do that. Not one of us asked anything in return, but that don't mean you don't have some responsibility here too.”

Myron chewed his lip, more confused and conflicted than ever. He looked over at Avery, his head still hung heavily. “Heard the Governor might call out the National Guard. They say maybe Hoover himself might get involved.”

“They don't dare.”

“After this morning?”

“They brought this on themselves,” said Avery. His hand slid along the boy's shoulder to hold him by the back of the neck. It wasn't enough to hurt him much, but enough to hold the boy's undivided attention. Avery leaned close. From the corner of his eye he could see Big Bill Connolly headed his way.

“Remember this, if you don't remember nothing else,” Avery's voice was filled with venom. “You are in this with the rest of us up to your neck. You best remember that if one of us goes down we're all gonna swing by the neck if it comes to a real fight.”