tim270
05-24-2012, 11:28 AM
The Rights in Hell’s Fork
Our town’s just like anybody else’s, I reckon. I mean, we probably have everything ya’ll do- and maybe a few things to spare. We have a shopping mall, and a movie theatre, and a bowling alley, and a few schools, and more churches than you can shake a stick at, even got a Catholic one, for the Mexicans. We take a special pride in that. Why, I read once that we have more churches in our town per capita than anywhere else in Texas, which is no inconsiderable feat. We’re a pious folk.
Of course, maybe we don’t have everything some a these big towns have. We don’t have an airport, or a University, or a hospital. Of course, that comes with compensations. We don’t have all the troubles for one. And we look out for one another in a way that ain’t too common no more. There’s a real sense of brotherhood here, and a neighborly type feeling that I wouldn’t trade for all the outlet malls and nightlife in the world. It’s just generally a pleasant place to live.
Now, you wouldn’t know it by the name. Hell’s Fork it is. It seems perhaps the landscape wasn’t too appealing all them years ago when the first white man come through here and stuck us with it. It’s all for the better I reckon- scares them unsavory types right on down to Houston or back towards to Dallas. It seems nobody wants to get caught in any shady doings in a town with a name like ours, and who can blame them? We don’t take kindly to law-breaking around here. We look out for our own, and take care a what’s ours. Like I said, there’s a sense of community around here that’s uncommon and it’s that type of brotherhood that’s the root of all our blessings.
It all happened a few years ago. I was home alone, watching the television and waiting for Pa to return from his weekly bowling match. I call him Pa, but of course he ain’t my father. He’s my husband. We been married forty-six years this spring, with one daughter all grown up and away now in Oklahoma and a happier marriage I could not have asked for. Well, when he came home an hour and a half late, and all red in the face with his last few strands of hair all stuck up like he’d been electrocuted, I knew something was up. He burst in the living room where I was sitting and about dragged me off the sofa and began throwing me about the room like we was at some honky-tonk.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Why Pa!” I said. “What’s a-happenin’?”
“We’re rich, Mary! Rich!” He laughed like he was drunk. I suspect he might a had a few, but I don’t begrudge him a drink now and again, in moderation. He’s a good man and a good husband. It’s the least I can do.
“They found gas neath the town! The whole town’s sittin on a ocean a gas! We’re rich! We’re all gonna be rich!”
Well, I couldn’t hardly believe my ears. It didn’t seem possible. But about a week later I found out all about it- we all did.
We had a town-meeting in the high school gymnasium, and some big-wig from Houston come up to tell us all about it. The whole town crowded in, so the gym was practically bursting at the seams, and still there were people sprawled out on the floor and hanging from the rafters. Why, everybody was there! Everybody that was anybody.
One stage there was Mayor Sellers, and the Reverends Pound and Stewart, along with Judge Sterling and the town’s best lawyers, Mr. George S. Silvers and William H. Jefferson. I saw the lovely young widow, Penny Apple, her husband dead in the wars, and their three small blonde children. Our neighbors Dr. and Mrs. Thomas Jackson sat directly across the way, and next to them the twins, Lilly and Daisy Custis, both near forty and neither of them married, or so much as rumored to have a beau. There was the young Yankee school teacher, new to our town then, Mr. Parsley, ran off six months later after that unpleasantness with the homecoming queen in the parking lot of the Piggly-Wiggly- you may a read about it. And the old widow Hadley, passed on now, three years this October, cancer I believe. Standing in the rear were the inseparable young couples of Robert E. and Rosemary Fearns, and Henry and Holly Hood. Those young folks were as thick as thieves, maybe a bit too thick, for less than a year later Henry and Rosemary up and ran off together to New England, or New Jersey, or some other Godless place where people live without shame. There were the Roosevelts and the Golds; and Sheriff Haug and his family; there were the Byers and the Briars, whose young daughter, Alyssa, later disappeared, nobody knows where. There was a whole mess a Mexicans there too, some of whom I knew, but most I didn’t. I recognized our housekeeper Flor and her husband, Paco or Pablo, and their six or seven children. And our gardener Luis Rubio and his wife Alicia, and their six or seven children. Lordy! Like I said, everybody was there, and the whole place was just a buzzing with excitement and chatter at the good fortune He had sent our way.
The man from Houston stepped up to the podium to speak. He was tall and handsome, in a fine dark suit with boots on, and every hair in place just so, and he looked exactly like the Governor or somebody mighty important and rich, who knew exactly what they was talking about and wasn’t there to waste no time. I wish I could put down exactly what he said but he used so many fancy words and was a-talking about things I don’t quite understand that I wouldn’t be able to do him proper justice. But it was just as Pa said. We was sitting on a veritable ocean a natural gas and his company was just a-itching to get in there and start drilling away and write us all big old fat checks for the right to do it. The only hitch was every property owner in town had to sign off on the deal or they couldn’t drill and nobody got nothing. And before we could hardly wrap our minds around everything he’d said he was hustling out the door and into a limo back to Houston, leaving us to look round at each other in puzzled wonderment. Well, pretty soon it sunk in and everybody started shaking hands and hugging and congratulating each other and giving thanks to the Lord above for such a spell a good luck.
Soon though, our celebrating was cut short when Mr. Parsley, the school teacher, stood up and said, “Aren’t we even going to consider the possibility that we shouldn’t sign away our town to these people?”
Everybody just kinda laughed at him. “Well why wouldn’t we?” somebody asked.
“Well, what about the possible ramifications to the environment? What about the debeautification of our town?”
That set us at a pause for a second, and then we heard the shuffle of the great bulk of Sherriff Haug, as he stood up and stared coolly at Mr. Parsley from his small wide-set eyes. “What do you mean? Our town? You ain’t even from here!”
Mr. Parsley looked startled. “Well, yes, that may be true, but I live here. I own property here.”
“Maybe, but you ain’t from here,” Sherriff Haug looked around at everybody to see if they agreed.
They did, and several other voices rose up at once. “Sit down Parsley! You ain’t even from here!”
Mr. Parsley looked around to see if he had any support, but he didn’t so he sat down quickly in a huff.
Then the Rev. Pound stepped forward to the podium, hushing everybody with his hands. “As silly as it seems,” he paused to look down his nose at Mr. Parsley, “perhaps we should meditate on this momentous decision, and pray to the Lord to show us the best way forward.” So then we all bowed our heads and took each other by the hand and the Rev. led us in a prayer.
To my way a looking at it there didn’t seem to be a whole lot to think about, but there’s always at least one person to gum something up, and a couple a weeks later, when I’d just about spent that money a thousand times in my head, we found out we might not get any a it at all.
Pa and the boys were having their weekly poker game and the usual crowd was there: Mayor Sellers and Mr. Silvers, the banker, and Sheriff Haug, and all the rest. It was at our house that Saturday, and even though I generally make myself scarce when Pa hosts the game, I stuck around because he hadn't been feeling well a late and I wanted to give him a tolerable excuse to cut it short if he should feel the need. Well, they was drinking, and talking, and cussing like usual and I wasn't paying them no mind, but then they started talking about the money and my ears perked right up and I scooted a little closer, though I didn't make no sign about it and just went on with my knitting.
"He ain't gonna sign," Tom Jackson said. "And foul it up for all a us."
"It is peculiar," Pa said. "You'd reckon a Mexican would need the money more than any a us. Why, I spoke with him not a month ago," that was my first clue they was talking about Luis, our gardener, "and he let on he needed money right bad."
"Ha! That's just how they is!" Mayor Sellers scoffed. "That's all they care about."
"Well, one way or another," Tom said, "we need to figure out a way to get that boy to put his name on the dotted line." He looked around at everybody. "What can we do?"
That stumped them. I tried to think a something too, but I couldn't.
Finally, Johnny Briar spoke up. "We could burn a cross in their yard."
Everybody laughed. "What in the hell would that do?"
"You know," Johnny said, "scare em good. Right on outta town."
"Good God!" Sherriff Haug laughed. "We don't wanna get the FBI involved."
"How bout somethin a bit more subtle?" The mayor said.
They was silent a few more minutes before Mr. Silvers spoke up. "Well I didn't wanna say nothing before boys, unless it was a last resort, cause it might cause a right bit a trouble for me, but I got a fairly good handle on why that boy won't sign them papers."
We all looked at him fairly drooling. "Well, why not?"
"As a matter of fact, the boy ain't legal. I did the paper work for his mortgage and kinda shut my eyes to it all. I don't say it was right, but we was hurting mighty bad then and we needed all the business we could get."
"Why, he's been here twenty years!" Pa exclaimed.
Mr. Silvers shrugged. "Don't change nothin. He ain't got the papers."
The Sherriff had a grin on his face like the snake that swallowed the whole brood. "I believe I'll be placing a call to the INS tomorrow. I'll have that wetback on his way back to Mexico before Wednesday."
Well they all started clapping each other on the back, and laughing, and even I couldn't help but get a little smile on my face too, thinking they'd done good for us and the town, and in a way, the whole country too, keeping us safe from illegals and all.
And it happened just like the Sherriff said. Two days later some men in black suits showed up in a black truck with black windows and hauled Luis away, leaving his wife a-wailing on the front porch, holding a baby, and the house full a them other children. I'm not sure what Mr. Silvers did at the bank, but they forclosed on the house almost immediately after, and Mrs. Rubio and all the children just up and disappeared. We all figured they went on back to Mexico but we never did hear for certain. I didn't feel quite right about the situation, thinking about Mrs. Rubio and them children being separated from their daddy like that, but deep in my heart I knew that was a selfish way to think. We have laws in this country for a reason, and society would go all to hell in a hand basket if they was just flaunted wily-nily like.
So I thought that was that. But of course, nothing good ever comes easy. Pa came home the next week from poker looking like he'd been cleaned out, but I knew that wasn't it, because he'd a had the good sense to hide that from me.
"What is it now?" I asked.
"Mrs. Hadley," he said. "She won't sign."
"Well why not?"
He shrugged, "She won't say. Me and the boys was wonderin if you and some a the ladies wouldn't go a-callin on her and see if ya'll can't figure out what's the hold up?"
I sighed. I hate to get involved in something like this, but what's a body to do?
So the next day, after church, me and some of the ladies from my bridge game paid a visit to Mrs. Hadley. She lives a way out on the edge of town, all by herself, cept for about a million cats. Her husband's been dead for almost fifteen years. We came walking up the front path, carrying a basket a peaches, shooing the cats out our way, when Mrs. Hadley come out the front door to greet us. She didn't look none too pleased to see us neither, but she invited us in and sat us down in her dusty old parlor, full a cobwebs and kittens, and served us all ice tea.
Well, we started chatting with her, pleasant like, like we didn't have a care in the world and this was just some normal visit. But it was a hard act to keep up, seeing as how none a us had been there in about ten years. After a few minutes a chatting bout the weather and her garden and the like she cut us right off.
"I know why ya'll are here."
We started to defend ourselves before she even accused us a anything, but she shut us up again with a real hard look.
"I ain't stupid. Ya'll are here because you want me to sign them damn papers!"
We all grew a bit uneasy, and the rest a the ladies looked at me like they expected me to say something. I figured there wasn't no more use hedging about so I said, just as easy as I could muster, "Well, now that you mention it Gloria, we was just a might curious about why you wouldn't sign? It's just such an awful lot a money, and it would do so much for everybody."
"I don't care bout that. I got plenty a money."
Mrs. Jackson spoke up, "Surely a little more couldn't hurt?" We all laughed. "Is there some kinda problem?"
Mrs. Hadley looked at us like she figured we wasn't going nowhere until she told us what was bothering her so she said, "Yeah, there's a problem. They want me to move. I'm 84 years old, and I lived in this house for over fifty years, forty of em with my husband, God rest his soul. And all I wanna do now is be left alone with my cats to die here."
"They want you to move?"
"That's right. They say they gotta put a pump or some other abomination in my backyard, and they'll buy me a new house and move me cross town. But I ain't movin. When I'm dead ya'll can do what you see fit, but till then I just wanna be left alone."
We soon left. When I got home all the men folk was waiting on me and they about pounced on me when I walked through the door.
"What did she say?" they all asked at once.
"She said they want her to move and she won't do it. She said flat out she's gonna die there in that house and there's nothing we can do about it. So I guess that's that."
Everybody got real quiet and looked at each other sadly, like we could feel all that money just slipping right through our fingers. It was downright depressing.
The Mr. Sterling said, "I wouldn't be so sure bout that. What do you think would happen if Tom Hadley knew his mother was turning down all that money?"
We all turned to him, puzzled.
"I'll tell you what would happen. He'd have her declared incompetent quicker than you could say the word.
The Sherriff began to nod his head. "And then he could sell the land."
"Exactly," said Mr. Sterling. "We can still get that money."
"Yeah, but," my Pa said, "Tom Hadley ain't even set foot in this town since they buried his daddy- not even to see his mother. How we ever gonna find him?"
Mr. Sterling chuckled. "Oh, I imagine the Sherriff could find a man fairly quickly. Ain't that right, Sherriff?"
Later that night I was laying in bed while Pa was just snoring away with my conscience gnawing away at me. It seemed like maybe we wasn't doing the right thing. Seemed like maybe we oughta just leave Gloria Hadley alone, like she wished, and let her die comfortable there in her own home. I knew that's what I'd want if I was her. I nudged Pa in his ribs, and he gave a start.
"What? What?" he said, setting up.
"I can't sleep," I said.
"What's the matter?"
"I keep thinking bout ol Gloria Hadley. Pa, you think we're doing the right thing?"
"Of course I do," he said. "You think the Judge and the Sherriff would go along with something if it wasn't right?"
"I reckon not," I said. "It just seems like maybe we oughta just leave her alone and in peace like she wants."
"This is best for all involved, Sug. It's good for the town, and it's the best thing for Gloria Hadley too. You think it's good for her to be shut up all alone with all them cats and nobody to take care a her?"
"I reckon not."
"Course it ain't. And this way they can get her some place where somebody can look after her proper like."
"That's true," I agreed.
"Course it is, Sug. Don't you worry about nothing. Everything's gonna work out just fine."
So I didn't and, of course, Pa was right. Tom Hadley showed up within a week, with some fresh papers the Judge had writ up for him, and he had his mother put into a real nice place in Lubbock with other folks such as herself, and nurses to look after her. At first, some of the other folks were a bit squeamish about it, like I'd been, but they come around to our way a seeing it pretty quick.
And when the money came in, nobody gave Mrs. Hadley or the Rubios, another thought, cept when maybe you needed the lawn mowed, or one a them stray cats would come slinking through your yard. But you managed to forget about it real quick when you saw everybody driving round in their big new truck, or you saw the big new churches going up all over town, or when watching the football games at the big new stadium on Friday night.
So it was just like Pa said. Everything worked out just fine in the end, and all we had to do was sign away a few rights to something we didn't even know we had in the first place.
Our town’s just like anybody else’s, I reckon. I mean, we probably have everything ya’ll do- and maybe a few things to spare. We have a shopping mall, and a movie theatre, and a bowling alley, and a few schools, and more churches than you can shake a stick at, even got a Catholic one, for the Mexicans. We take a special pride in that. Why, I read once that we have more churches in our town per capita than anywhere else in Texas, which is no inconsiderable feat. We’re a pious folk.
Of course, maybe we don’t have everything some a these big towns have. We don’t have an airport, or a University, or a hospital. Of course, that comes with compensations. We don’t have all the troubles for one. And we look out for one another in a way that ain’t too common no more. There’s a real sense of brotherhood here, and a neighborly type feeling that I wouldn’t trade for all the outlet malls and nightlife in the world. It’s just generally a pleasant place to live.
Now, you wouldn’t know it by the name. Hell’s Fork it is. It seems perhaps the landscape wasn’t too appealing all them years ago when the first white man come through here and stuck us with it. It’s all for the better I reckon- scares them unsavory types right on down to Houston or back towards to Dallas. It seems nobody wants to get caught in any shady doings in a town with a name like ours, and who can blame them? We don’t take kindly to law-breaking around here. We look out for our own, and take care a what’s ours. Like I said, there’s a sense of community around here that’s uncommon and it’s that type of brotherhood that’s the root of all our blessings.
It all happened a few years ago. I was home alone, watching the television and waiting for Pa to return from his weekly bowling match. I call him Pa, but of course he ain’t my father. He’s my husband. We been married forty-six years this spring, with one daughter all grown up and away now in Oklahoma and a happier marriage I could not have asked for. Well, when he came home an hour and a half late, and all red in the face with his last few strands of hair all stuck up like he’d been electrocuted, I knew something was up. He burst in the living room where I was sitting and about dragged me off the sofa and began throwing me about the room like we was at some honky-tonk.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Why Pa!” I said. “What’s a-happenin’?”
“We’re rich, Mary! Rich!” He laughed like he was drunk. I suspect he might a had a few, but I don’t begrudge him a drink now and again, in moderation. He’s a good man and a good husband. It’s the least I can do.
“They found gas neath the town! The whole town’s sittin on a ocean a gas! We’re rich! We’re all gonna be rich!”
Well, I couldn’t hardly believe my ears. It didn’t seem possible. But about a week later I found out all about it- we all did.
We had a town-meeting in the high school gymnasium, and some big-wig from Houston come up to tell us all about it. The whole town crowded in, so the gym was practically bursting at the seams, and still there were people sprawled out on the floor and hanging from the rafters. Why, everybody was there! Everybody that was anybody.
One stage there was Mayor Sellers, and the Reverends Pound and Stewart, along with Judge Sterling and the town’s best lawyers, Mr. George S. Silvers and William H. Jefferson. I saw the lovely young widow, Penny Apple, her husband dead in the wars, and their three small blonde children. Our neighbors Dr. and Mrs. Thomas Jackson sat directly across the way, and next to them the twins, Lilly and Daisy Custis, both near forty and neither of them married, or so much as rumored to have a beau. There was the young Yankee school teacher, new to our town then, Mr. Parsley, ran off six months later after that unpleasantness with the homecoming queen in the parking lot of the Piggly-Wiggly- you may a read about it. And the old widow Hadley, passed on now, three years this October, cancer I believe. Standing in the rear were the inseparable young couples of Robert E. and Rosemary Fearns, and Henry and Holly Hood. Those young folks were as thick as thieves, maybe a bit too thick, for less than a year later Henry and Rosemary up and ran off together to New England, or New Jersey, or some other Godless place where people live without shame. There were the Roosevelts and the Golds; and Sheriff Haug and his family; there were the Byers and the Briars, whose young daughter, Alyssa, later disappeared, nobody knows where. There was a whole mess a Mexicans there too, some of whom I knew, but most I didn’t. I recognized our housekeeper Flor and her husband, Paco or Pablo, and their six or seven children. And our gardener Luis Rubio and his wife Alicia, and their six or seven children. Lordy! Like I said, everybody was there, and the whole place was just a buzzing with excitement and chatter at the good fortune He had sent our way.
The man from Houston stepped up to the podium to speak. He was tall and handsome, in a fine dark suit with boots on, and every hair in place just so, and he looked exactly like the Governor or somebody mighty important and rich, who knew exactly what they was talking about and wasn’t there to waste no time. I wish I could put down exactly what he said but he used so many fancy words and was a-talking about things I don’t quite understand that I wouldn’t be able to do him proper justice. But it was just as Pa said. We was sitting on a veritable ocean a natural gas and his company was just a-itching to get in there and start drilling away and write us all big old fat checks for the right to do it. The only hitch was every property owner in town had to sign off on the deal or they couldn’t drill and nobody got nothing. And before we could hardly wrap our minds around everything he’d said he was hustling out the door and into a limo back to Houston, leaving us to look round at each other in puzzled wonderment. Well, pretty soon it sunk in and everybody started shaking hands and hugging and congratulating each other and giving thanks to the Lord above for such a spell a good luck.
Soon though, our celebrating was cut short when Mr. Parsley, the school teacher, stood up and said, “Aren’t we even going to consider the possibility that we shouldn’t sign away our town to these people?”
Everybody just kinda laughed at him. “Well why wouldn’t we?” somebody asked.
“Well, what about the possible ramifications to the environment? What about the debeautification of our town?”
That set us at a pause for a second, and then we heard the shuffle of the great bulk of Sherriff Haug, as he stood up and stared coolly at Mr. Parsley from his small wide-set eyes. “What do you mean? Our town? You ain’t even from here!”
Mr. Parsley looked startled. “Well, yes, that may be true, but I live here. I own property here.”
“Maybe, but you ain’t from here,” Sherriff Haug looked around at everybody to see if they agreed.
They did, and several other voices rose up at once. “Sit down Parsley! You ain’t even from here!”
Mr. Parsley looked around to see if he had any support, but he didn’t so he sat down quickly in a huff.
Then the Rev. Pound stepped forward to the podium, hushing everybody with his hands. “As silly as it seems,” he paused to look down his nose at Mr. Parsley, “perhaps we should meditate on this momentous decision, and pray to the Lord to show us the best way forward.” So then we all bowed our heads and took each other by the hand and the Rev. led us in a prayer.
To my way a looking at it there didn’t seem to be a whole lot to think about, but there’s always at least one person to gum something up, and a couple a weeks later, when I’d just about spent that money a thousand times in my head, we found out we might not get any a it at all.
Pa and the boys were having their weekly poker game and the usual crowd was there: Mayor Sellers and Mr. Silvers, the banker, and Sheriff Haug, and all the rest. It was at our house that Saturday, and even though I generally make myself scarce when Pa hosts the game, I stuck around because he hadn't been feeling well a late and I wanted to give him a tolerable excuse to cut it short if he should feel the need. Well, they was drinking, and talking, and cussing like usual and I wasn't paying them no mind, but then they started talking about the money and my ears perked right up and I scooted a little closer, though I didn't make no sign about it and just went on with my knitting.
"He ain't gonna sign," Tom Jackson said. "And foul it up for all a us."
"It is peculiar," Pa said. "You'd reckon a Mexican would need the money more than any a us. Why, I spoke with him not a month ago," that was my first clue they was talking about Luis, our gardener, "and he let on he needed money right bad."
"Ha! That's just how they is!" Mayor Sellers scoffed. "That's all they care about."
"Well, one way or another," Tom said, "we need to figure out a way to get that boy to put his name on the dotted line." He looked around at everybody. "What can we do?"
That stumped them. I tried to think a something too, but I couldn't.
Finally, Johnny Briar spoke up. "We could burn a cross in their yard."
Everybody laughed. "What in the hell would that do?"
"You know," Johnny said, "scare em good. Right on outta town."
"Good God!" Sherriff Haug laughed. "We don't wanna get the FBI involved."
"How bout somethin a bit more subtle?" The mayor said.
They was silent a few more minutes before Mr. Silvers spoke up. "Well I didn't wanna say nothing before boys, unless it was a last resort, cause it might cause a right bit a trouble for me, but I got a fairly good handle on why that boy won't sign them papers."
We all looked at him fairly drooling. "Well, why not?"
"As a matter of fact, the boy ain't legal. I did the paper work for his mortgage and kinda shut my eyes to it all. I don't say it was right, but we was hurting mighty bad then and we needed all the business we could get."
"Why, he's been here twenty years!" Pa exclaimed.
Mr. Silvers shrugged. "Don't change nothin. He ain't got the papers."
The Sherriff had a grin on his face like the snake that swallowed the whole brood. "I believe I'll be placing a call to the INS tomorrow. I'll have that wetback on his way back to Mexico before Wednesday."
Well they all started clapping each other on the back, and laughing, and even I couldn't help but get a little smile on my face too, thinking they'd done good for us and the town, and in a way, the whole country too, keeping us safe from illegals and all.
And it happened just like the Sherriff said. Two days later some men in black suits showed up in a black truck with black windows and hauled Luis away, leaving his wife a-wailing on the front porch, holding a baby, and the house full a them other children. I'm not sure what Mr. Silvers did at the bank, but they forclosed on the house almost immediately after, and Mrs. Rubio and all the children just up and disappeared. We all figured they went on back to Mexico but we never did hear for certain. I didn't feel quite right about the situation, thinking about Mrs. Rubio and them children being separated from their daddy like that, but deep in my heart I knew that was a selfish way to think. We have laws in this country for a reason, and society would go all to hell in a hand basket if they was just flaunted wily-nily like.
So I thought that was that. But of course, nothing good ever comes easy. Pa came home the next week from poker looking like he'd been cleaned out, but I knew that wasn't it, because he'd a had the good sense to hide that from me.
"What is it now?" I asked.
"Mrs. Hadley," he said. "She won't sign."
"Well why not?"
He shrugged, "She won't say. Me and the boys was wonderin if you and some a the ladies wouldn't go a-callin on her and see if ya'll can't figure out what's the hold up?"
I sighed. I hate to get involved in something like this, but what's a body to do?
So the next day, after church, me and some of the ladies from my bridge game paid a visit to Mrs. Hadley. She lives a way out on the edge of town, all by herself, cept for about a million cats. Her husband's been dead for almost fifteen years. We came walking up the front path, carrying a basket a peaches, shooing the cats out our way, when Mrs. Hadley come out the front door to greet us. She didn't look none too pleased to see us neither, but she invited us in and sat us down in her dusty old parlor, full a cobwebs and kittens, and served us all ice tea.
Well, we started chatting with her, pleasant like, like we didn't have a care in the world and this was just some normal visit. But it was a hard act to keep up, seeing as how none a us had been there in about ten years. After a few minutes a chatting bout the weather and her garden and the like she cut us right off.
"I know why ya'll are here."
We started to defend ourselves before she even accused us a anything, but she shut us up again with a real hard look.
"I ain't stupid. Ya'll are here because you want me to sign them damn papers!"
We all grew a bit uneasy, and the rest a the ladies looked at me like they expected me to say something. I figured there wasn't no more use hedging about so I said, just as easy as I could muster, "Well, now that you mention it Gloria, we was just a might curious about why you wouldn't sign? It's just such an awful lot a money, and it would do so much for everybody."
"I don't care bout that. I got plenty a money."
Mrs. Jackson spoke up, "Surely a little more couldn't hurt?" We all laughed. "Is there some kinda problem?"
Mrs. Hadley looked at us like she figured we wasn't going nowhere until she told us what was bothering her so she said, "Yeah, there's a problem. They want me to move. I'm 84 years old, and I lived in this house for over fifty years, forty of em with my husband, God rest his soul. And all I wanna do now is be left alone with my cats to die here."
"They want you to move?"
"That's right. They say they gotta put a pump or some other abomination in my backyard, and they'll buy me a new house and move me cross town. But I ain't movin. When I'm dead ya'll can do what you see fit, but till then I just wanna be left alone."
We soon left. When I got home all the men folk was waiting on me and they about pounced on me when I walked through the door.
"What did she say?" they all asked at once.
"She said they want her to move and she won't do it. She said flat out she's gonna die there in that house and there's nothing we can do about it. So I guess that's that."
Everybody got real quiet and looked at each other sadly, like we could feel all that money just slipping right through our fingers. It was downright depressing.
The Mr. Sterling said, "I wouldn't be so sure bout that. What do you think would happen if Tom Hadley knew his mother was turning down all that money?"
We all turned to him, puzzled.
"I'll tell you what would happen. He'd have her declared incompetent quicker than you could say the word.
The Sherriff began to nod his head. "And then he could sell the land."
"Exactly," said Mr. Sterling. "We can still get that money."
"Yeah, but," my Pa said, "Tom Hadley ain't even set foot in this town since they buried his daddy- not even to see his mother. How we ever gonna find him?"
Mr. Sterling chuckled. "Oh, I imagine the Sherriff could find a man fairly quickly. Ain't that right, Sherriff?"
Later that night I was laying in bed while Pa was just snoring away with my conscience gnawing away at me. It seemed like maybe we wasn't doing the right thing. Seemed like maybe we oughta just leave Gloria Hadley alone, like she wished, and let her die comfortable there in her own home. I knew that's what I'd want if I was her. I nudged Pa in his ribs, and he gave a start.
"What? What?" he said, setting up.
"I can't sleep," I said.
"What's the matter?"
"I keep thinking bout ol Gloria Hadley. Pa, you think we're doing the right thing?"
"Of course I do," he said. "You think the Judge and the Sherriff would go along with something if it wasn't right?"
"I reckon not," I said. "It just seems like maybe we oughta just leave her alone and in peace like she wants."
"This is best for all involved, Sug. It's good for the town, and it's the best thing for Gloria Hadley too. You think it's good for her to be shut up all alone with all them cats and nobody to take care a her?"
"I reckon not."
"Course it ain't. And this way they can get her some place where somebody can look after her proper like."
"That's true," I agreed.
"Course it is, Sug. Don't you worry about nothing. Everything's gonna work out just fine."
So I didn't and, of course, Pa was right. Tom Hadley showed up within a week, with some fresh papers the Judge had writ up for him, and he had his mother put into a real nice place in Lubbock with other folks such as herself, and nurses to look after her. At first, some of the other folks were a bit squeamish about it, like I'd been, but they come around to our way a seeing it pretty quick.
And when the money came in, nobody gave Mrs. Hadley or the Rubios, another thought, cept when maybe you needed the lawn mowed, or one a them stray cats would come slinking through your yard. But you managed to forget about it real quick when you saw everybody driving round in their big new truck, or you saw the big new churches going up all over town, or when watching the football games at the big new stadium on Friday night.
So it was just like Pa said. Everything worked out just fine in the end, and all we had to do was sign away a few rights to something we didn't even know we had in the first place.