A sketch of Claude Hall, 
circa 1976, by Chuck Blore
www.chuckblore.com
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Brady
Chapter Sixteen of a novel by Claude Hall

B.M. EARLE & BOX BOK

Dan folded up his umbrella. Somewhat more carelessly than was his wont. For inspite of everything, he usually meticulous. All ends tied up neatly. This, he thought, was one of his major attributes as a television producer. But at the moment, he felt it necessary to hurry. He collapsed the chairs and placed them, too, haphazardly in the trunk of the Mercedes with the ice chest, grabbed the empty beer bottles although he could feel raindrops already pounding onto his face, then ran toward the drugstore on the corner just as a flash of lightning raced across the sky. The enormous burst of light was followed almost immediately by an explosion of thunder that crashed overhead and then rumbled over the square and off to the north. Rain suddenly began to come down hard, pounding the street, splat-splat like a machine gun in an old World War One movie. Like "All Quiet on the Western Front" from the Erich Maria Remarque book. Great book. Great movie.
Lew Ayres? Something like that. Funny, but he should know all of the actors by heart. One of his favorite films. Instead, all Dan could think of was that thunder. Quite impressive! Someday, a movie with something like that. Shake everyone in their seats!

Someone moved aside at the door to let him pass. Three people were there. They looked out the doorway at the sky. Questions were etched in their faces. They paid little attention to him. A casual glance. Kept their distance in order to avoid him dripping water on them. More interested in the weather than him.

Dan ran his hand through his hair to knock some of the rain away. They flinched away. He wasn't really wet. Just slightly damp. Out the doorway, however, rain was now falling like a curtain across the square. He could barely see the courthouse a hundred yards away. The wind had come up. Trees around the courthouse were dancing in a frenzy. Ghosts in a grey world.

"Just in time," someone said. "You were very close to getting drenched. That Mexican fellow you were talking with got soaked before he ducked inside the courthouse."

"Friend of mine," Dan said, looking at the man with what he hoped was a defiant stare.

He glanced at Dan, then looked quickly out the doorway.

"Suit yourself," he said.

He took the empty beer bottles out of Dan's hand and placed them in a trash can near the end of the counter. He was careful not to actually look at Dan or even at the empty beer bottles. He seemed focused on avoiding confrontation.

But Dan had no intention of letting him escape. He had decided that the Brady gossip mill needed fuel.

"Offered him a good job in Los Angeles," Dan said, then he lied just a little. "He said he would think about it."

"You have a job for me?" the guy asked.

"Sorry," Dan said. His tone was perhaps a little too sharp for the occasion. They both stood looking out the doorway. Some rain had fallen inside the doorway on the floor.

"Hey, your fight is not with me," the man said, now trying to stare Dan down. He failed at this and then glanced down at the wet floor in the doorway. "I've got my own problems and they keep me pretty busy."

"Okay," Dan said. He nodded.

The man was absolutely bald except for tufts of white hair just above each ear. Strangely enough, the effect looked good on him, but like little white wings. But he was much too young, Dan thought, for white hair, even though he was aware that it happened in some people. Otherwise, the man looked something like a Robert Redford. The bald head changed his appearance. Caused him to look much older than he actually was. Robert Redford, of course, didn't look too much like Robert Redford anymore now that he was older.

Dan thought for a moment and decided that the man was absolutely right. He had become antagonistic and the attitude was uncalled for.

"I apologize," Dan said. "And I'm very grateful for your hospitality. Especially at the moment. I don't know why I said that about Rudy. But, yes, he's an old friend. From my childhood. We played together as kids."

Just then a roll of thunder swept down behind the buildings to the west and went northeast. It sounded like a freight train rushing past and up close. Although dark outside, lightning caused the trees around the courthouse to look like waving hands on a screen. An old magic lantern effect. Then the world was dark again.

"Looks as if you've been sharing my hospitality all morning. Don't worry about it. Hasn't hurt the bus business any and I think sales at the soda counter have even picked up. A couple of people came in and ordered coffee and sat there looking out the window at you. I got nervous and called the police earlier, but it appears as if you cleared muster so it's okay for me if you want to hang around."

"So you're the one that called old Lester on me. Thanks. Thanks a lot."

"Mayor," he said by way of explanation. "Hope you don't plan to do this sort of thing all week, though."

"Leaving tonight," Dan told him.

"Why have you been creating so much noise?" the man asked. "Just curious. Hope you don't mind too much. You somebody special? There's been an unusal flow of gossip this morning. More than ordinary."

"Not me," Dan said. "It's the storm."

"Sure," the man said.

"My name is Jones. Dan Jones. I used to live here. That's all. I thought I only knew a few people. Maybe more people knew me, though, than I realized."

"B.M. Earle," the man said and offered his hand. "I'm manager here. As well as head bottlewasher, I should add. Hell, I also sweep the place out. And I also do the mopping up when necessary."

He gestured at the water in the doorway.

"Mayor, too, someone told me," Dan said. "And evidently pretty good at it. I don't know how good yet you are at mopping up."

"Yeah. The mayor. How about that? I don't know the difference, though, between a good mayor and a bad mayor," Earle said. "In this town, I don't think anyone really cares. As for the mopping, I'll wait until the rain stops."

"That's okay about being mayor," Dan said. "I wouldn't know a bad mayor anyway even if I saw one. Unless, of course, he or she was in a movie and the character written that way."

"You in the movies?"

"Nope. I do a little television now and then."

"Anything I might watch?"

"Probably not."

They shook hands. Dan glanced at the two women staring out the window.

"Passengers waiting over for the bus to Abilene," Earle said. "Came in from San Saba. It wasn't them talking about you. The gossip mongers ran for shelter when they seen that cloud."

Dan laughed

"Can't blame them for running," Dan said. "But you might as well know that I don't care who talks about me. Nor what they say or might have said."

"That's good," Earle said. "Because someone even called to make sure you were camped outside. I was beginning to think you were some kind of famous football player."

"Whew!" Dan said.

"Right," Earle said.

"I was referring to the rain," Dan said.

"Me, too," Earle said.

"Hope we don't get a tornado."

"I listened to the weather report on the radio this morning. Nothing like that expected. Just boom and water. Lots of it, evidently."

"Sort of funny," Dan said. "I come back to Brady for just one single day and it rains."

"Maybe I should phone you next drought we have around here. You might come in handy."

"No guarantee," Dan said. "Don't know how good I'd be. Might rain, might not."

One of the ladies asked him if the storm would prevent the bus from coming. The manager told her that he didn't think so. "Bus drivers are used to this sort of thing," he told her.

She wanted another cup of coffee.

He went with her to the counter and poured her a fresh cup, then held the pot on high as if asking a question. Dan nodded. Earle fetched a clean cup from the rack and poured coffee into it. He handed the cup to Dan and then poured one for himself.

"Compliments of the storm," he said.

"Nice storm, Mr. Earle," Dan said.

Just then, however, the storm grew savage. Almost as if someone had turned it up a notch. In the dark, you saw pictures thrown on a gray screen by weird flashes of lightning. Flickering. A car, obviously someone passing through town, came into the square from the west. The driver was driving slow, his windshield wiper beating furiously against the rain, but his vision limited. Whether it was a small tornado or just a hard gust of wind, Dan couldn't tell, but a tree on the courthouse lawn suddenly was pulled up by its roots and flung against the rear of the car. All this was almost in silence; you heard the hard roar of the storm, but all other noise was obliterated by the wind and the rain.

The car slowly crashed against the curb and a light pole on the far side of the square.

Both the mayor of Brady and Dan ran out into the storm and started across the street. Instantly soaked, shirt and trousers plastered against his body. He was thrown off balance by the wind. Struggled forward as best he could. Almost fell. Then fell in the wind-blown street that had been turned into a small river. As he climbed to his feet, he saw Rudy Ramierez running between flashes of lightning. Evidently, Rudy had been looking out of the courthouse, because he joined them as they stumbled across the lawn. Rudy said something to Dan. Dan didn't hear a word.

He reached the wreck first and yanked open the passenger door. An elderly man sprawled out, but Rudy was able to catch him before he hit the pavement. By then, Earle was there, checking the inside of the car for other passengers. Instead of trying to shout against the noise of the storm, he shook his head. Rudy tossed the driver of the car over his shoulder and stumbled through the pounding of the rain and the wind toward the courthouse. Earle was at his side, head down against the lashing rain. Once, a gust of wind knocked Earle down to his knees. Dan helped him to his feet and they continued, shoved now, toward the courthouse and up the steps. But Earle couldn't get the door opened.

In desperation, Rudy took off toward the cafe and the mayor of Brady and Dan followed as best they could. Rudy seemed sure on his feet even though he wasn't any bigger than the man he was carrrying. A gust of wind hit Dan and flung him sprawling on the grass. Rudy stopped. Dan waved him on. With the help of the mayor, he scrambled to his feet and they staggered across the street to the drugstore on the corner.

Once out of the rain, Rudy leaned the driver of the car against the wall by a table and Earle quickly brought him a cup of black coffee.

The elderly man coughed as Rudy tried to pour some of it down his throat.

"I use...cream," he said.

Earle laughed and rose to his feet.

"He's all right," he said.

The two women who were waiting for a bus stood near the rear entrance. They were like reeds. They watched up without saying anything. Without offering to help. Now and then one of them would glance out the back door to see if the bus had come yet.

"I think I could use some more of the coffee," Dan said, trying to sweep some of the rain from his hair with the flat of his palms.

"Me, too," said Rudy.

"First, let me see if I can find a clean towel."

Earle went to a closet and came back with a couple of towels. He handed one to Dan and one to Rudy.

"What about me?" asked the elderly man, still sitting on the floor sipping at his coffee.

"Out of towels, I'm afraid. Sorry."

Rudy handed his towel to the man. Instead of wiping his face, however, the man dropped the towel on the table. Rudy, shrugged, casually picked up the towel and continued wiping drying his head.

Dan finished wiping off somewhat with the towel, which was just a small cup towel. He and Rudy helped the elderly man up and sat him in a chair at the table with his cup of coffee.

"I think you're all wet," Dan told the man. Then he wished he hadn't said it. Too sarcastic. Yes, he'd taken an almost instant dislike to this wizened little creature they had rescued from the storm. But increasingly Dan thought of the man as the fish they should have tossed back.

Earle brought him and Rudy some cups of coffee and sat them down at the table. Then he went back to his closet and came forth with a mop.

"I also do the mopping around here," he said. "But I think I mentioned that earlier."

"I can help," Rudy said.

"No. Let me do it," the mayor said.

He tried to mop the floor but the elderly man was still dripping water everywhere. Finally, Earle just stepped back, leaned on his mop handle, and stared at the pool of water on the floor.

"At least you make good coffee," Rudy said. He took Dan's cup towel and his own and Dan's canvas hat and went around the counter to a sink and squeezed them out and come back and handed one of the towels to the elderly man. With the other, he attempted to clear up some of the water on the surface of the table.

"My hat," Dan said loudly.

Rudy laughed, then just nodded and handed Dan the wadded hat from where he'd tucked it in his belt.

The hat was wet still. But, after an inspection, Dan sort of thought the rain had been good for it. Same with Rudy's shirt and trousers. He went over to the sink and squeezed out most of the water, then put the hat on and grinned at Rudy.

"How's my car?" the elderly man said. He glanced at Dan instead of looking out the front windows of the cafe. "I've got to get down to San Antone."

Rudy went to the window and looked out.

"Hard to tell," Rudy said. "Because of the rain, it's difficult to even see your car. But I think it'll be okay to drive if we can straighten out that front fender some. You have a serious dent in the rear where that tree fell, but that shouldn't stop you from driving."

"Thank you," the man said to Dan as if he was the one telling him about his car.

"I'm Dan Jones," Dan said, "and this Is Rudy Ramierez who rescued you. That gentleman with the mop is Mr. Earle, the mayor."

He looked at Dan first, then the mayor.

"I'm grateful," he said. "What happened? Did anyone see it?"

"We all did," said Earle. "The wind pulled up a tree and flung it your direction. The tree hit your car on the rear end. That caused you to run into the curb and a light pole."

The hard lightning had moved on to the northeast, leaving only the sound of distant, fading thunder. The rain was not heavy anymore, but steady. Wind flung rain against the large windows of the drugstore. It was an odd sound.

"Just what I needed, a wreck," the man said. "My name is Bok. Everyone calls me Box, but my name is spelled with a k on the end, not an x."

"If you needed a wreck, you got a pretty good one," said Rudy. "Fortunately, no one was hurt. And you'll be able to spin a good story for years about wrecking a car in a Brady storm."

A bus pulled in under the back overhang. The two women were excited about the bus. Mr. Earle went to help them board and help the driver get their luggage tucked away. He came back a moment later and told Dan and Rudy that a tornado had come through Brady. The driver had seen it in a flash of lightning and stopped for a few minutes.

"I didn't see anything like that," Rudy said.

"One big one will sometimes create a smaller tornado nearby," Earle told him. "You might not even realize it unless it has picked up some debris or dust. Or maybe a big twister reached down, picked up the tree and tossed it, then moved on. That can happen sometimes. They bounce around a lot."

"It was dark anyway," Rudy said. "And that rain! We haven't had that kind of rain around here in years."

"Might put a lot of water in the lake," Earle said. "Fishing could be good in a couple of weeks. You like to fish?"

Rudy looked at Dan, a grin on his face, before responding. "I used to fish a lot with some old friends, but not in a long, long time. They left town on me. Don't even have fishing gear. But you're probably right about that lake. I think it was getting low."

By now the rain had slacked off. The hard rain stopped suddenly, just as if a movie in a theater had ended. But it was still drizzling. Small drops. Slow. Steady.

"Just about over," Dan said after glancing out the window. "Texas thunderheads do that. Hit and git."

"Helps cool off the day, though," said Earle. "Guess there's a little good in just about everything."

"Not everything," Rudy said.

Rudy stood up from the table. He'd just finished his cup of coffee.

"If I may borrow your keys, Box, I'll see what I can do to get you operational."

"Guess they're still in the car," Box said.

"I may have to get it over to the shop to straighten out that fender some."

"Okay," Box said. But he actually seemed to be talking with Dan instead of Rudy.

"I'll go with you," Dan said.

"I don't need any help."

"You definitely need help," Dan insisted.

It was still drizzling as Rudy and Dan walked across the square to Box's car. Since they were still wet from earlier, Dan didn't mind the rain. It was gentle. Comfortable. Like Rudy had surmised, the tree had landed mostly on the trunk of the car, bashing it in good. Take a body shop to get that dent out. When Box drove into the lightpole, it had shoved his fender in near the front right tire.

"Guess I need a crowbar," Rudy said. "You go on back to the bus station. I'll fetch a crowbar from the shop. Shouldn't take too long to pry that fender away from his tire. About all we can do. But he'll be able to drive his car."

By the time Dan got back to the bus station, Earle had another pot of coffee ready. Dan told Box about his car. He said thanks.

The rain kicked up again. Across the square, Dan could see Rudy working patiently in the rain. He seemed determined to get the car functional. Box would have to take it in for repairs when he got home, but Rudy seemed determined at least help him to get out of Brady.

"How's the bus business doing?" Dan asked Earle. Then he wondered why he'd asked. That was purely a casual conversation question. He couldn't remember when he'd purposely sought casual conversation like that.

"Okay, I guess," Earle said. "When gasoline prices went up, a lot of people had to resort to the bus. But the bus line also had to increase fares. Vicious circle, in a way."

"Someone's making a lot of money out of this so-called shortage of crude oil," Dan said. "That war in Iraq didn't help any. We should have gone to ethanol instead of war."

"Big mistake alright," Earle said. "The president should have been impeached. Better yet, tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail. Like in the old days."

"I don't think they've ever done anything like that around Brady," Dan said. "I can't even remember seeing anything like that in a movie. Heard about it. Never saw it. But I think you're right. We've got a talk-talk president who's a do-nothing of the worse order."

"I resent that!" said Box. His voice was just a little too loud, too shrill.

"Resent what?" asked Earle.

"You defaming the president of the United States. That's what."

"Listen, stranger. That's what presidents are far. And this one has done a lousy job," Earle said. He said it in a casual manner. "Killing all those people over there. They were just trying to defend themselves. It's a hell of a note when you've got to shoot a man to steal his oil."

"If they'd used those weapons on us, you'd be talking a different tune," Box said.

"What weapons?"

"Those weapons of mass destruction, of course."

"There were no weapons of mass destruction. Just some old guns and leftover shells. Mere pop guns against tanks, fighter planes and helicopter gunships, rockets, 500-pound bombs. The White House--your president--lied to the American public, I'm afraid."

Box seemed suddenly to be fuming as if from a fevor. His eyes darted here, darted there. He evidently thought he was among enemies.

"The president said that we had to get rid of the evil ones. I believe him. You've got to depend on your president, you know. This is America!"

"America? The America I know doesn't invade other countries without reason. That whore monger we had before was better in the job," Earle said. "At least he wasn't a murder and babykiller so far as we know. Or a dopehead, for that matter."

"Our president acted correctly and wisely," Box insisted. "What about those mass graves with hundred of thousands of bodies they found?"

"They didn't find any mass graves," Earle said calmly almost as if he wasn't talking to Box, but to the rain out the window. "Do you know how large a grave like that would be? To hold even a hundred thousand bodies? Bigger than Brady, Texas. Even if you just piled the bodies up. Anyone could tell that it was an outrageous lie from the beginning."

Box stood up. He literally dropped his coffee cup on the table. Coffee splattered everywhere. Some of it splattered on the shirt Box was wearing. His shirt was still soaked. He would have a rather interesting coffee stain on that shirt even after he washed it.

"You're a liberal, aren't you?" Box said.

He said it in a cold and very accusing tone of voice.

"I don't even know what you're talking about," Earle said. "What's a liberal these days?"

"A person who speaks treason against the United States," Box said defiantly.

"Oh. Glad you explained it to me," Earle said. "Would you like another cup of coffee?"

Box literally ran to the window. Across the square Dan could see Rudy still patiently working on the car in the rain. The rain, once was driven at an angle by the wind, now fell straight down. He was sprawled on his back, his face hidden under the car.

"Horrible position," Dan said, "...trying to explain what treason is. I guess treason is doing what you really believe as opposed to what they tell you to believe. If so, I suppose I'm guilty. Come to think of it, everyone I know is probably a liberal. I don't know anyone who wanted this god-awful war."

"Treason?" said Earle. "How about idiocracy? A while back the president Mr. Box speaks of so fondly said that freedom is the almighty's gift to every man and woman in the world and as the greatest power on the face of the earth we had an obligation to help the spread of freedom. So we bombed the hell out of Iraq and then went in there with tanks and helicopter gunships and soldiers and shot upwards of ten thousand people, a lot of them wives and kids. A lot of our boys were killed as this president tried to spread his form of democracy. And several thousand wounded. Hell of a price to pay for freedom."

"They were evil!" Box literally shouted. "Saddam Hussein deserves to be hung!"

"For defending his country against the United States? Hardly. He'll more than likely be murdered for crimes against humanity. That's what happens to all losers. Doesn't mean he deserves it, though."

"What about that vicious attack on the World Trade Center? That's a good reason to attack those Iraqi heathens."

"Don't think the Iraqis were there," Earle said. "I heard we were attacked by Al Qaeda. Of course, we don't really know precisely who the Al Qaeda is either. That's never been properly explained. To to me, anyway."

Rudy finished at the car and came quickly back across the square, crowbar tucked under his arm.

Box saw Rudy coming.

"Damned liberals!" Box said and scooted out the door in the drizzling rain. Just as if he were fleeing.

"Wonder what was really bothering him," Dan said.

"Probably still shookup because of the accident," Earle said. "Shock. Nerves. An accident like that will do that sort of thing to you sometimes."

Earle and Dan stood at the door as Box dodged a car, stopped long enough to shake his fist at the driver, then hurried under the trees and across the street again to his car. As he passed Rudy, he held out his hand. Rudy handed him the keys to his car and Box blundered on through the steady rain.

Rudy came into the drugstore. Earle handed him one of the small towels. Rudy nodded his appreciation and began to dry his face and hands.

"Didn't even say thanks," Rudy said.

"He was afraid you might suggest a tip," Dan told him.

"A tip? I don't even know what a tip is. Not in this town. But a thanks would have been nice. I would have taken a mere thanks."

"The real reason is that he thought you were a liberal," Earle told Rudy. He looked at Dan. "Exactly what kind of liberal are you?"

"I don't know," Dan said. "Are there different kinds now?"

"Everyone in California is a liberal and I heard you were from California. Are you one of the practicing liberals or just a closet liberal? Or, perhaps California liberals are entirely different."

"Probably a mildly participating liberal," Dan said. "Perhaps I don't participate enough. Regardless, I don't just participate for show...for the publicity. Maybe I'm a quiet liberal. Is there such a thing?"

"Liberal is a dirty word around here in central Texas sometimes," Earle said.

"I wonder why. Used to be a nice word."

"I don't know. Guess definitions change. People change. Guess words can, too."

Across the square, Box literally leaped inside his car and slammed the door. You'd have thought someone was chasing him. The car lurched into motion and soon whipped around the corner and headed south.

"I think you just lost a customer going about as fast as he can get toward San Antonio," Dan said.

"Good," Earle said.

The rain stopped. It was still grey out. Very dark.

"More coffee?"

"I think I've had enough coffee," Dan said. "Almost on a jag. Sloshing. You don't want to get a mildly participating liberal on a caffeine jag. I think what I need is a beer. Would you gentlemen join me?"

"Might as well," Rudy said.

"Me, too," said the manager of the bus station.

Dan went out to the car and took three beers out of the ice chest and carried them back before he popped off the tops.

"You're still dripping water," Dan told Rudy as he handed him a bottle.

"Forget it," Earle said. "He has a right to drip if he wants to drip. I'll mop later."

At least, Dan thought, the rain had washed Rudy's clothes. He looked more presentable now.

They toasted each other just as the sun broke through. The clouds were peeling away. Blue sky now off to the west.

"Hell of a rain," Dan said.

"Damned right," said Earle.

"I didn't appreciate it all that much," Rudy said.

"I wonder why," Earle said. "Hey, you mentioned something about fishing earlier. My wife doesn't fish much anymore because of the kid and I've been sort of scouting around for a fishing buddy since we moved here. How about coming out to the lake one day with me?"

"I don't even have any fishing gear," Rudy said.

"My wife's. You can use her stuff."

"Well...."

"Good," said Earle.

"You may not want me along," Rudy said. "I'm not much at talking politics. And probably only fish barely well enough to give a bass a good laugh."

"We'll be fishing. Not talking," said Earle.

"When we aren't fishing?" Rudy asked.

"I don't talk politics," said Earle. "I scream politics. I'll scream and you just nod your head now and then and we'll be okay. As for your fishing abilities, that'll mean more for me."

"Hope you don't scare the fish away with all that screaming."

"I won't," said Earle.

"Just what is a liberal?" Rudy asked Dan.

"Someone who fixes a guy's car and doesn't even get a thanks for doing so," Dan said.

"So, here we are," Earle said, "a bunch of cottonpicking liberals looking out the window at a pretty day."

"Guess I'll get back to my command post so everyone can see me," Dan said. His hat was a long way from being dry, but he sort of liked it damp. Cooler that way. Sun would probably dry it out soon enough.

He left Rudy and Earle making arrangements for Sunday's fishing trip and went out to the Mercedes and took out his chairs and umbrella and sat and finished his beer while the sun began to shine again and the square became bathed with a damp sheen left from the rain. It was like a fantasy setting to some extent. Didn't look real. Difficult to create that kind of scene, Dan thought, in a movie or a television show.

(continued next week)
 

e-mail  claude@claudehallonline.com

November 17, 2008

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By Claude Hall

e-mail  claude@claudehallonline.com

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