Clare Vanderpool - Moon Over Manifest

Shady stood and spoke for the group. “Your Honor, we are a little short of the thousand dollars and are requesting an extension to raise the remaining funds.”

The Honorable Judge Carlson was just that. Honorable. He was one of the few authorities around who was not in the back pocket of Arthur Devlin. He would come down on the side of the law, wherever that happened to fall. But his voice couldn’t hide the weight of what he was about to say. Judge Carlson shook his head. “I’m sorry, Shady. The statute is clear. As of October first, if the town doesn’t buy the land, it becomes available for public sale.”

“But, Your Honor, we can pay the portion we have now and—”

Lester Burton stood. “Your Honor. These shysters have been deceiving everyone long enough. Producing illegal alcohol, or their so-called elixir, to raise funds to buy the land. I’d say it’s time to put that land up for sale.”

Judge Carlson’s gavel wavered for a moment. “Very well. Let’s get on with it. Since the township cannot make payment in full at this time, then in accordance with public statute, the aforementioned tract of land is now open for public bids.”

Lester Burton looked around the room, defying anyone to bid against him. The crowd remained still. “Your Honor, since there is no stipulation that the land be sold in one piece, I’d like to first bid on the section including the spring from the tracks to the stream.”

The room ignited with a buzz of murmuring voices. Judge Carlson banged his gavel.

“I thought the mine wanted the whole tract of land.”

“The part I want doesn’t involve the vein. That pertains to the mine. Right now, I’m not bidding on behalf of the mine. I’m bidding for myself and all I’m interested in is the spring. I’ll start the bidding at fifty dollars.”

Shady tried to figure what Burton was up to. Jinx snuck a look at the government man sitting in the second row. “Shady, that fellow from Topeka never said the water was contaminated. He just asked if it was near a mine,” Jinx whispered.

“So?”

“What if that’s a good thing? What if that’s why people were getting better?”

“You mean it might be healing water?” Shady pondered the idea. “Like in those spas in Arkansas and Colorado?”

“Yes, and folks come from miles to drink, even bathe in it. Burton will make a fortune.”

“Going once.…” Judge Carlson looked around the courtroom.

“You can’t just let him buy it,” Jinx whispered.

“But it’s the town’s money.”

“Then the town will own the spring. You’ll all still have a chance to get out from under Burton and the mine,” Jinx urged.

“Going twice.…” The gavel hovered.

“One hundred dollars,” Shady said softly.

“What’s that?” Judge Carlson asked, trying to find the source of the bid.

Shady stood. “One hundred dollars.”

Burton turned on Shady. “I don’t think you want to do that, Shady.”

“I think I do.”

“Two hundred dollars,” Burton counterbid.

“Three hundred.”

The bidding went back and forth, a hundred dollars at a time, until it reached seven hundred dollars. That was when Lester Burton knew he was getting close.

It was Shady’s bid. “Seven hundred twenty dollars.”

“Seven thirty.”

Shady’s hands were trembling. He looked like he’d have paid seven hundred dollars for one stiff drink, just to take the edge off. “Seven hundred forty dollars.”

The courtroom was silent, as if there was not a breath left. Everyone knew he had done all he could. And everyone knew it wasn’t enough.

“Seven forty-one.” Burton waited for the counterbid that wouldn’t come.

Judge Carlson raised his gavel like a man ready to put a dying animal out of its misery. “Going once. Going twice. Sold.” He rapped his gavel lightly. “Mr. Burton, if you’ll sign the papers with the county clerk, we’ll move on to the rest of the Widow Cane’s property.” Burton whipped out a pen and signed the papers with a smirk.

“Your Honor?” It was Mrs. Larkin again. “About that property …”

“Yes, I know, Mrs. Larkin,” Judge Carlson said. “I assure you we will address your matter in due time. Now please be seated.”

“But, Your Honor …” Mrs. Larkin stepped out of the jury box. “As my husband, the late Eugene Larkin, was the county appraiser, I have access to his maps relating to public and private land use in this county. The land just purchased by Mr. Burton …” Without asking to approach the bench, Mrs. Larkin whipped out a map and unrolled it on Judge Carlson’s desk. “See here? It’s this northeast corner.”

“Yes, I see. However, where Shady makes his alleged concoctions doesn’t change the fact that this land is now up for public sale. So, if you’ll return to your seat …”

“Oh, but it does, Your Honor,” Mrs. Larkin argued. “You see, now that Mr. Burton has purchased that section of land, it reduces the amount of land that has back taxes due. And actually, now Mr. Burton owes an amount in back taxes.”

A host of mystified stares focused on Mrs. Larkin. Even Judge Carlson was at first unable to respond.

Lester Burton recovered first. “What difference does that make? They still don’t have enough, so let’s get on with the sale.” He was clearly rattled by his nearly devastating mistake.

Mrs. Larkin continued. “Actually, Your Honor, there’s more.”

“Of course there is.” Judge Carlson sat back and crossed his arms.

“Mr. Burton’s property includes a spring, which is considered a public resource, therefore it is required that the taxes on that land go to the nearest township. In this case, the township of Manifest.”

“Meaning?” Judge Carlson asked, growing genuinely interested.

“Meaning that if, in fact, the town of Manifest has raised seven hundred and forty dollars—by whatever flagrant and nefarious means”—she looked over her glasses at Shady and Jinx—“due to Mr. Burton’s purchase of the spring, they now have the money to buy the rest of the Widow Cane’s property, with eight dollars to spare. The county clerk can verify.” She handed the map and calculations to the clerk.

“This is preposterous,” Burton spluttered. “They had their chance to buy the property. Now it’s up for public sale.”

Arthur Devlin rose from his seat, his puffy face splotchy with rage. “Sit down, Burton,” he roared. “You’ve done enough to botch this affair. I bid five thousand dollars on the rest of the property, Carlson. Let’s get this thing over with.”

“Mr. Devlin.” Judge Carlson leaned forward, his voice even. “With all this hubbub, I think you may be a bit confused. You see, we are not in your mine. You are in my courtroom and you may refer to me as Judge or Your Honor.”

Arthur Devlin’s eyes narrowed and he plopped himself back into his seat.

“Now”—Judge Carlson lowered his spectacles—“you should recall that the first step of this process is not an auction. The statute clearly states that the township of Manifest has first right to the land in question as long as they can pay the back taxes and land fee by October first. Then and only then is the land put up for public auction. Mr. Devlin, according to my calendar, it is still October first, and if everything Mrs. Larkin said checks out”—he glanced at the county clerk, who gave a nod—“then, since your own Mr. Burton has graciously provided the township of Manifest with some unexpected money, by law they are still allowed to acquire the remaining land, which includes the vein.”

Devlin crushed his cigar to a pulp, but being a businessman through and through, he knew when he was defeated. He mustered three words. “Burton, you’re fired.”