The Renewal Page 4

  "You didn't tell us we needed to bring our rain gear!" yelled Freelove as they got closer.

  "Semper paratus," Jim chuckled.

  "Yeah, I feel like a semper platypus," growled McGregor. "The wet's getting to my second layer and that makes me grumpy."

  "Oh, so that's what makes you grumpy," laughed Freelove.

  McGregor smirked. "Yeah, well, among other things."

  They arrived at the main portico together and stepped through the door into the vestibule where they hung their hats and jackets on hooks on the wall.

  Jim sat down on a bench to take his rubber boots off. "You guys feel free to leave your boots on. I just hate walking around in these inside."

  He looked at Freelove, nodding at a cardboard tube under the sheriff’s arm. "What do you have there?"

  "It's what we came to talk to you about."

  The door opened and Christian came in with Mike behind him. "Nice day if you're a duck. Bill and Tom are headed this way."

  Jim nodded and got to his feet. "Okay. Let's head on back and grab a seat."

  They entered the main hall and took seats around a large round table toward the front of the room. Both of the massive fireplaces sat dormant, and the subdued light from outside gave the room a cool and relaxed feel.

  The opening of the door announced the arrival of Bill and Tom, who hung their hats and jackets in the vestibule and came into the hall with Bill muttering something about a boat that nobody caught.

  "Come have a sit," said Jim. "Jasmine is going to bring over some coffee in a bit when the rest of them come."

  The two took chairs at the table, Bill looking around. "Yesterday, you talk about Robin Hood and today we're sitting at a round table. Is there something you'd like to tell us?"

  Jim smiled and turned toward Freelove. "The sheriffs here ..."

  "Another Robin Hood reference?" asked Bill.

  Jim chuckled. "Mark, Rod and Dean have something they want to talk to us about. I don't know what it is, so I'll turn it over to them."

  Freelove nodded and rose from his seat, uncapped the cardboard tube and withdrew a large roll of thick paper which he reverse-rolled then smoothed out flat on the table.

  Christian looked closely at the large map of Kansas, complete with roads, towns and waterways. "What are the red boxes for?"

  "That's what we came to talk to you about," said Freelove. "Do you all remember Tim Hersey from Dickenson County?"

  Jim and Tom nodded. "Seemed like a good man," said Jim.

  "He is," said Freelove. "He and Wade Dorser in Geary County, along with the sheriffs in Riley, Clay and Morris counties have established kind of a safe zone with Fort Riley at the center."

  "What happened to the sheriff in Geary County?" asked Tom.

  "Tim Mullane," scoffed McGregor. "We call him the evil Tim to differentiate him from Hersey. He and the JC chief sided with that sawed-off colonel at Riley and are pretty much PNG around those parts now. I think they're trying to scratch out a living with their families on some ranch up around Wheaton."

  "And the colonel?"

  "He and his officers are eatin' those MREs they loved so much in the Geary County jail. There's going to be a meeting among the people about what to do with them."

  Tom and the rest nodded their approval.

  "Anyway," Freelove continued, "Hersey and the others have constructed a kind of safe zone in their counties and have suggested that we do the same in our area, which we are doing. We came here to see how you would feel about doing it around here."

  Jim looked at Freelove for a moment, then stood up to look down at the map.

  Red boxes enclosed several contiguous areas.

  "This area," Freelove traced his finger around one of the boxes, "is Hersey and his group. It's made up of Clay, Riley, Dickenson, Geary, Morris and Wabaunsee counties. Pottawatomie County is still up in the air.

  "The area to the northwest of them," he traced his finger around another box, "Ottawa, Lincoln, Mitchell, Cloud, Republic and Jewell counties, is being overseen by a few of the sheriffs and a couple of militia groups. It's sparsely populated but with good resources; cattle ranches, wheat production and such, and they've been pretty stable since the collapse."

  He moved his finger to trace a box east of Hersey's area. "This is us. Osage, Lyon, Coffey, Greenwood and Woodson counties."

  He paused, looking at Jim, then traced his finger around a final box. "This is the area we're hoping you'll consider taking as your area of responsibility. Johnson, Douglas, Miami, Franklin, Linn and Anderson counties."

  Jim looked at the area Freelove had just described. He studied it for a moment, then looked at Freelove. "What exactly do you mean by area of responsibility and taking?"

  "In every area we are familiar with, there is one group that has come together as a cohesive force for the stabilization of the area," Freelove answered. "So far, it's all been positive. In some, it has been law enforcement. In others, militia. In this area, it's you."

  "We think we made out a little better farther west because of lower population density, a more rural mindset and the fact that law enforcement was more a part of the community," said McGregor. "Nobody wants to get close to Topeka or Lawrence. You're on the rim of the biggest potential powder keg around here, but you've built more than the rest of us put together."

  "Our counties over here are different than farther west," said Leach. "Johnson was one big golden goose of McMansions and expensive cars. There was no cohesion or sense of mutual responsibility between law enforcement and the people once formal politics was gone and everything fell apart. The other counties in our area are more rural but without major towns or infrastructure like Riley or Junction City, so our departments are smaller. We're doing okay for local stuff, but to be honest we'd be sittin' ducks if a determined group came at us. We need a regional organizational structure to provide adequate security for all of us."

  "Our thought is that with our areas working together we can secure and stabilize a fairly large region," said Freelove. "It could be a step toward a new normalcy and be good for all of us."

  Jim continued looking at the map, thinking. The proposal made sense. The different areas had different characteristics and natural resources and organizing a regional cooperation and assistance zone would help everyone. Still, he had not intended to expand his responsibilities as far as they were asking him to and doing so would present challenges he didn't really want to deal with, at least not yet.

  He looked at Leach. "How would you see this working?"

  Leach nodded his head in understanding at the question. Who would be in charge of what? Would there be jealousies or resentment among some factions in the area that would threaten the cohesion they were after?

  "I'll start with my county," he said. "We started off with a county population of a little over eight thousand with about thirty-five hundred living in Garnett, the county seat. As far as we can tell we've lost about three thousand in the county; about a thousand of those from Garnett."

  He paused for a moment, the reality of what he had just said having an obvious effect on him.

  "Our current population profile is mixed," he continued. "Most of the people in Garnett and about half of those in the county had full-time town jobs. Even most in the county relied on some kind of non-farming income to keep their farms afloat. Now, everybody's scrambling just to stay alive. Those who knew how and had the land are doing okay with expanded crop production or livestock operations and we've done a lot of scavenging, but things aren't getting any better. People around there pull together, but stress shows the cracks in the social foundation and it's no Mayberry. County and town leadership has changed as people needed to take care of their own, including most of the law enforcement. I had less than a dozen guys to begin with, mostly part-timers, and now I'm down to six. They're all good guys, but they're not getting paid and they need to take care of their families first. I've talked with the other sheriffs and they say pretty much the same thing
."

  He looked at the map for a moment as if envisioning his own county, then back up at Jim. "You asked how I see this working. We don't need anyone taking care of us or telling us what to do. The good folks don't want that and wouldn't stand for it. We can take care of ourselves. What we need is to develop a mutual assistance and trade area where we can work together to create better lives for our people and help each other if trouble comes."

  He nodded toward Freelove and McGregor. "They told me you had a good model here and I can see they were right. We'd like to see that model expanded to a larger area where we can help and strengthen each other."

  "So, each county would be autonomous but would cooperate with the others?" asked Jim.

  Leach nodded. "Each county or otherwise autonomous area would be sovereign unto itself, would abide by its own chosen form of government and enforce its own statutes. No area would be able to tell another how to operate."

  "What if the form of government we choose is different than the one you choose?" asked Jim.

  Leach shrugged. "Your business, not ours."

  "What if you disagree with the form we choose or some of our laws?"

  "Still your business," said Freelove. "If any area feels that the policies of another are a deal-breaker, they can simply discontinue their relationship."

  "It sounds as if you are suggesting a form of confederalism," observed Bill.

  Freelove cocked an eyebrow. "If you'll tell me what that is, I'll tell you if I am."

  "A loose confederation of sovereign groups or political entities joined together for certain common purposes with each retaining the right of self-government, self-determination and secession," answered Bill. "Essentially, it's how the United States started out and also the Confederate States."

  "Yeah, but the confederate states didn't have a right to secede," said McGregor.

  Bill shrugged. "Many would disagree with you and have for years."

  "But they're wrong," said McGregor.

  Bill shrugged again. "So they say about you."

  "But it was unconstitutional," argued McGregor. "Even Scalia said so."

  Bill nodded. He remembered when Scalia had said that and remembered his disappointment in the argument from someone whom he had highly respected.

  "The constitutional question was addressed in Texas v. White in 1869 and ruled against Texas,” he said. “How many secessionists or southern sympathizers do you think sat on the court in 1869?"

  McGregor didn't answer.

  "As to Scalia," continued Bill, his law school professor's tone edging into his voice, "he based his opinion on three main issues. First, he stated that secession would not be possible because the United States would not accept such a lawsuit. Second, he argued that the constitutionality of secession had been resolved by the civil war. And third, he argued that there was no right to secede because the language of the Pledge of Allegiance contains the phrase one nation, indivisible.”

  He paused for a moment, seeing that everyone was listening closely, then continued. "There have been reams written discussing his odd reasoning in forming an opinion that I would be disappointed if a first-year law student couldn't destroy, but let's take it to a more basic level. If a woman were being abused by her husband but he wouldn't agree to meet her in court, would she have to stay with him? Secondly, would the question of her right to leave him be resolved by his beating her and not allowing her to? And thirdly, would you say that she had no right to leave him because they had recited a non-binding pledge together that they didn't even write themselves and was written long after they were married?"

  The table was silent as Bill and McGregor looked at each other.

  Jim heard the door opening and the sound of Kelly’s voice accompanied by several of the other women. He stood up. “It sounds like the rest of us are here.”

  He looked around the table. “I think we see some things that need further discussion. Let’s take a break and have a cup of coffee. Then, we have some Stonemont business to take care of.”

  He looked at the sheriffs. “While we do that, why don't you guys relax for a while and we’ll meet again for lunch. Then we'll saddle up some horses and go for a ride. We’ll show you some other things we’ve been doing."

  "They're asking us to be a part of a multi-county mutual assistance pact," Jim said as he rose to take his plate to the sideboard where he placed it in a wicker basket with those left by the sheriffs.

  Freelove, McGregor and Leach had stayed for a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll that Jasmine had made, then left. The clouds had broken, and sunlight now shone through the windows of the hall giving the large room a warmer feel.

  "Is that good?" asked Kelly.

  Jim returned to the table and sat back down. He shrugged. "On the surface it sounds good and makes sense, but I can see some problems."

  He looked at Bill. "The judge gave us all a history lesson that pointed some out, and I think may have ticked Rod off a bit."

  Christian nodded. "Yeah, I think it might have."

  Bill shrugged. "This part of the country has some very deep wounds that go back to the civil war. That's why it was called Bleeding Kansas. People think they know things because of what they were taught in school and saw reinforced in the media. Sadly, much of what they think they know simply isn't true."

  Mike nodded. "Being from South Carolina, I can vouch for that."

  "Anyway," said Jim, "we'll talk about that later."

  He looked at a woman sitting next to Kelly. "Kelly has brought someone who has something she wants to suggest to us." He looked at Kelly. "Would you like to introduce her?"

  Kelly nodded, smiling at the woman. "This is Elaine Ahlgren. She was an art professor at UMKC."

  The woman smiled, obviously waiting for Kelly to say more, but Kelly just sat back. Looking around the table at the impassive faces watching her, she straightened her back and lifted her chin. "As Kerry said, ... "

  "Kelly," said Kelly.

  The woman looked at Kelly, irritated. "I'm sorry. What?"

  "My name is Kelly. You said Kerry."

  The woman seemed momentarily confused. "Oh. Yes, well, Kelly."

  She turned back to the others around the table. "As Kelly said, I am a professor of art. I taught in the University of Missouri system for many years and in a private preparatory school before that."

  She paused, exhibiting a superior, self-satisfied smile as if expecting a supportive or congratulatory response. Receiving neither, she continued.

  "One of the things of which I am most proud is having introduced thousands of young minds to art and its importance throughout the history of humankind."

  She paused again to allow responses that did not come.

  She moved in her chair, attempting to sit up taller still, and folded her hands on the table in front of her.

  "I feel that one of the greatest potential losses from this whole situation is the loss of art. My husband Spencer agrees, as do a number of other people with whom we have spoken."

  Jim nodded slowly, put off by the woman's attitude and wondering where this was heading. "I appreciate art, Mrs. Ahlgren, ... "

  "Ms.," the woman said curtly.

  Jim looked at the woman, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

  "I am a person in my own right, Mr. Wyatt. I do not belong to my husband, whose last name is Fulbright, nor do I minimize my own personhood by subjugating it under his name."

  "I see," said Jim, again nodding slowly. "And how would you like to be addressed?"

  "Ms. would be fine if a gender-specific title is absolutely necessary. Otherwise, Professor would be acceptable."

  "Very well," said Jim, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table with his fingers laced together. "May I ask what Mr. Fulbright does?"

  The woman's small, superior smile returned. "Professor Fulbright was the head of the aboriginal culture studies department at the university. He taught sacred textile design and drumming."

  Jim raised
his eyebrows. "Drumming?"

  "Yes."

  "I see,” Jim nodded seriously. “And what do the two of you do now?"

  "We teach classes on pan-cultural art philosophy and theories of practical application of rhythm therapy."

  Jim looked at Kelly, then back at Ahlgren. "Where do you teach?"

  "In town."

  "Where in town?"

  Ahlgren hesitated for the first time. "In our home."

  "In town?"

  Ahlgren nodded. "Yes."

  "Really? Do you have a pretty good turnout?"

  Ahlgren shifted in her chair. "We still have a fairly small group, but we are developing more interest."

  Jim leaned back in his chair. "What jobs do you do to support yourselves?"

  "We teach. People pay us in credits for the classes they take."

  Jim nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting. And that's enough?"

  Ahlgren shook her head. "That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes. The true value of art cannot be measured monetarily. Rather, its worth is seen in the quality of the lives it touches and the richness of the cultural tapestry of a society. Therefore, I, we, are requesting community support for the cultural investments we are now shouldering ourselves for the good of the community."

  "I see," said Jim, looking at Kelly, then at the others around the table, then back at Ahlgren. "And what form of support are you requesting?"

  "We are asking for the use of a home in which we can conduct the educational programs as well as a monthly stipend for our services. I believe the community can afford it and will benefit far beyond the small investment."

  Jim looked confused. "I thought you said you were already using your home for your classes."

  Ahlgren shifted in her seat again. "Actually, we currently live with another couple who have been gracious enough to have us join them in their home."