Читать книгу Selectively Lawless - Asa Dunnington - Страница 12

Chapter 4

Emmett changed quite a bit over the years—what some folks might describe as “mellowing with age”—but with him, it was more like the older he got, the wiser he became. Part of that was just good ol’ experience, of course, but Emmett was also a curious man. He had an engineer’s fascination with how things worked and how to fix them when they didn’t. He looked at every problem as a challenge, and he took great pride in figuring out a way to solve it. If he couldn’t fix it, there was a pretty good chance it was broke for good.

That same attitude filtered into his dealings with people and his judgment of human nature. Naturally, a lot of conflicts arose in a business with criminals as its primary customer base.

You might say that he was very good at conflict resolution, because he was a fearless man who packed a mighty powerful punch. He didn’t go looking to start fights, but there were plenty he finished with minimal effort.

The only time anyone ever saw Emmett truly seek out a physical confrontation was after he came back from the West Coast and went into the bootlegging business. There was a fella he’d gone to grade school with who had what he called a “runny mouth.”

Emmett always took every precaution he could, which included everything from bribing the right people to look the other way to giving out a sample jug or two here and there. He figured it was just the cost of doing business, and he didn’t begrudge anyone a little taste of his success from time to time. The way he saw things, his liquor went down smooth, and the business of selling it should be the same.

There could be quite a kick to both, however.

His old schoolmate with the big mouth, whom Emmett had considered a bully even as a child, had gotten into the habit of talking around town about Emmett’s new business in a way that Emmett didn’t cotton to.

Which is to say, talking about it at all.

But even in his outlaw days, Emmett had a code of morality based on the Golden Rule. If he was cheating at cards, he liked to win money from other gamblers who had money to lose and an inclination to cheat other people themselves. He liked nothing better than cheating a cheater.

For one thing, the gamblers who cut corners were the ones who bet the most money and so could afford to lose it. For another, the ones who cheated couldn’t very well call attention to the fella who was better at cheating than they were!

On the other hand, though, in the case of illegal whiskey, there was no cheating involved at all. Emmett always gave full value for the money he was paid, since most of his customers were just working stiffs who simply wanted to take a drink without the government looking over their shoulders.

So, this loudmouth calling attention to what Emmett saw as a very lucrative public service didn’t sit too well with him at all, and once it became apparent that the fella wasn’t going to shut up, Emmett decided old Johnny Strange was a problem that needed to be solved.

Now, if Johnny had been a nice kid back when they were kids in school and not a bully, Emmett probably would have handled things a bit differently. That Golden Rule and all. But he remembered how Johnny, who was bigger than most of the other kids back then, used to throw his weight around. More than once, Emmett had seen Johnny push another student from behind without warning, knocking them down. Then he’d sit himself down on their back and push their face into the ground.

“You hungry?” he’d ask, laughing. “Eat some dirt!”

Emmett saw that as dirty pool, the equivalent of a sucker punch, and he had no respect for anyone who fought like that. Growing up poor with older brothers, Emmett appreciated a good fight, but he’d always hated the sneaky, unfair way bullies went about it.

Johnny had never tried that with Emmett back in the day, though. He’d known better. Since Emmett was the only kid in school tough enough to confront him, Johnny behaved himself marginally better when he was around, but the two of them had always treated each other warily, like two cautious prizefighters circling each other, trying to avoid being knocked out.

Still, that was a long time ago, and it seemed that Johnny Strange had only gotten bigger and meaner as the years passed. When Emmett returned from his trip with new clothes and a fancy car, it might have just been too much for Johnny to take.

Emmett was the talk of the town, but Johnny’s talk wasn’t very flattering.

More importantly to Emmett, it was downright dangerous.

In a small town, there were two kinds of secrets: the secrets that everybody knew about except outsiders, and the secrets that were taken to the grave.

In other words, everybody pretty much knew everybody else’s business, but most folks had the common courtesy not to mention it in front of company.

Especially if the company could get someone thrown in the hoosegow.

Emmett went to have a talk with Johnny Strange.

He decided to take Chester as a witness. Not because he needed any backup, but because he knew Chester would enjoy telling everybody in town what had happened, and that would serve as a warning for anyone else whose lips threatened to get a little loose.

Emmett knew Chester had been dying to drive his new car, so he asked his brother if he knew where Johnny lived.

“Sure I do,” Chester said, the words barely out of his mouth before Emmett tossed him the keys.

“Let’s go.”

Emmett didn’t tell Chester why, but everybody in town knew what Johnny had been blabbing about, so he probably had a pretty good idea.

“You ain’t gonna do anything stupid, are you?”

Emmett laughed. “You wanna drive or not?”

That settled it. Chester had always been the more cautious brother, which was why he’d stayed home when his younger brother, Emmett, ran off to make his fortune, but he really wanted to drive that fancy car.

Besides, he’d come to look at Emmett with new eyes after his brother’s return, almost as if it were Chester who was the younger of the siblings. There was something about Emmett’s adventures that had turned him into a man to be admired. He had begun to take charge of things in a way that many people never learned to do.

The brothers drove over to Johnny’s parents’ house, where he had ended up living his entire life.

Johnny’s daddy was sitting on the old wooden porch when Chester and Emmett pulled to a stop, the cloud of dust doing nothing to lessen the effect of the shiny red vehicle silhouetted against the afternoon sun.

“How you doin’, Mister Strange?”

“Tolerable, I guess,” the older man answered. He craned his neck and looked at the car. After he’d had his fill, he leaned back in his rocker and gave a low whistle. “I ’spect you’ll be wantin’ Johnny.”

“Yes, sir,” Emmett answered. “If he’s around.”

Mister Strange chuckled. “He’s around, mostly. Johnny!”

Johnny banged out of the screen door almost immediately. Emmett figured he’d been watching through the parlor window. He was tall and muscular, with a head of thick dark hair, almost a wrestler’s version of Emmett.

Perhaps the WWE version.

In other words, he looked big and mean.

Chester looked nervously over at Emmett, who didn’t bat an eye at the sight of Johnny.

“Remember me?” Emmett asked calmly.

Johnny sneered. It was obvious he did, but he lied anyhow. “Don’t think I do.”

Emmett smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I reckon you will before I leave.”

Johnny’s smile, which had reached his eyes, faded immediately. “I’ll make you eat those words.”

“Come on, then.”

Johnny practically leapt off the porch and charged toward Emmett, who reared back and hit him square in the jaw. Unstoppable force met immoveable object, except that, in spite of his advantage in size, Johnny was very stoppable on that day, and he dropped like a stone in the dirt.

Everybody was quiet for a moment as they waited for Johnny to stir, and when he didn’t, for a moment, Chester thought he might be dead.

But then Johnny moaned, and Emmett knelt beside him. He leaned over to whisper in his ear so Johnny’s father couldn’t hear. There was no need to embarrass him any further.

“You hungry?”

Johnny lifted his head slightly to look at Emmett, his eyes glassy.

“Don’t worry, Johnny,” Emmett said. “I ain’t gonna make you eat dirt.”

Chester laughed.

“You thirsty?”

Johnny, still not all back with them, nodded.

“Then you’re gonna have to drive over to the next county, cause I ain’t gonna waste none of my whiskey on you.”

Johnny’s eyes cleared a little, and he finally understood.

“And if they ask why you drove so far, you go ahead and tell ’em Emmett Long sent you.”

Johnny was silent. He looked completely awake now but too scared to get up for fear of being knocked down again.

“Say it.”

“Emmett Long sent me.”

“Damn right.”

Then Emmett stood up and tipped his hat to Mister Strange, who nodded respectfully in return. The father knew his son was a bully, and everybody knew what happened to men like that. Sooner or later, they ran into somebody who wouldn’t be bullied.

As Emmett and Chester walked back to the car, Johnny managed to rise up on his elbows, his legs splayed out behind him and his head in his hands, like a kid shooting marbles.

“You boys want some lemonade?”

It was Missus Strange, who’d just stuck her head out the door, completely oblivious to what had just transpired in her front yard.

Chester was about to take her up on the offer, but Emmett cut him off. “No, ma’am. We’re just fine.”

Chester nodded in understanding and chimed in. “Thank you, though.”

“All right, then,” she said cheerfully. “You boys come back anytime.”

Mister Strange snorted.

Emmett and Chester tipped their hats to the mother, who, unlike Johnny’s father, probably had no idea what an insufferable bully she’d given birth to. Then they got in the car, this time with Emmett in the driver’s seat.

Emmett shifted into gear and drove away, shaking his head at Chester.

“Lemonade,” he muttered with bemusement.

“I was thirsty.”

Emmett chuckled. “You and Johnny both.”

They never heard another peep out of Johnny after that day, but the general consensus around town was that from that time forward, he didn’t ever take another drop of whiskey, even when it was legal again.