'Wide Meadows' - The political fox

Editor's note: This is an excerpt from Jean Bell Mosley's book "Wide Meadows" that was first published in 1960.

Last time: Dad kills a fox on the farm and begins a campaign for county sheriff.

"Well, no luck last night," Dad reported at the breakfast table next morning, avoiding everyone's eyes. "But there's always another time," he said heartily.

We sat on the straw stack every night for a week, and every night it was the same thing.

"Beats all I ever saw," Jim Harris said, perplexed, when he brought down some fresh beef. "First time I recollect there hasn't been a fox in the hills since I been living here, and I've been here a mighty long time. Ain't no sign of dens nowhere. I've been out studying the hills. Person might as well give up if he can't have the little recreation of fox hunting." Jim looked sad.

Mom took the fur piece off the top of the chiffonier and put it in the cedar chest.

The second week in October there was to be a big political rally at the county seat. The governor was coming down and several other prominent party leaders. The candidates were all supposed to be there to say a few words and, of course, the candidates' wives, to lend a little grace to the occasion. We girls got to go, too. If things lasted too late, we could go over to Aunt Grace's and go to bed.

We stopped by her house first on the night of the rally, and she combed Mama's hair again and arranged the little curls over her ears and around her forehead and made her put on her little turquoise earbobs.

"Oh, Grace," Mom scoffed. " 'T ain't me they'll be looking at. Get Wilson in here and brush his suit."

More say-so than just votes

Aunt Grace snorted. "You don't know anything about politics, Myrtle. Women have more say-so than just their votes. Why, every woman out there tonight will be going over you with a fine-tooth comb, looking for flaws, especially the opposition. Though I don't know where they'll find them," she said, stepping back and surveying Mom. "Why didn't you wear your fur? It'd look pretty with that blue suit."

"I brought it along. It's outside. Don't you think it's a little hot yet?" Mom asked hesitantly.

"Oh, bosh! Run and get it, Jeanie," Aunt Grace motioned to me.

"You know, Grace," Mom said, "nobody around home knows about the fur. Course I know it's all right. Wilson wouldn't have killed the fox if it hadn't been like he said. He's too much of a fox hunter himself to up and kill a fox unless it was a mercy. But seems as if it just hasn't come handy for us to tell about it."

"Well, if you know it's all right, what else matters?" Aunt Grace asked.

"Why, that's right," Mom said, straightening up, with new light in her eyes.

They tried it first one way and then another, but any way you took it, it looked good. And Daddy just stood and stared at Mom when she came out in the living room. I know Mom was glad, now, that she was wearing it, for it sort of said, in some mute way, "I'm with you in this."

We walked from Aunt Grace's up to the courthouse. The streets were crowded and everybody stopped to shake hands with Dad. All but the neighbors, that is. Somehow it seemed kind of silly to be shaking hands with someone so familiar, whom we had just recently passed on the way to town or shouted to in their barnyards. Hands working together on a cross-cut saw, scraping hots, pitching hay, knew more familiarity than any handshake could convey.

Eyes on the fur

They spoke of the weather and asked each other if they had their wood in yet, or inquired if the winter wheat was showing a stand. No one, not even the womenfolk, asked Mom about her fur, fearing it had been borrowed for the occasion, but you could feel them looking at it. Especially Jim Harris. He just couldn't keep his eyes off it.

We moved leisurely up the courthouse. Lots of strangers were down from the city with the governor's party. One man kept looking at Dad peculiarly and we hoped he wasn't going to start anything. Political rallies got that way sometimes.

"I've seen him someplace," Dad said, "but I can't remember where."

Then pretty soon the man detached himself from his group and came over to Dad. "Say," he said rather loudly and looking especially at Mom, "aren't you the guy that brought a fox hide up to the tannery here a while back? This is it here, isn't it?" he pointed at the fur piece.

"Yes, sir," Dad said without flinching.

"Finest hide I ever worked with," the man kept on. "Lots of people shoot 'em up too bad, but you put the rifle shot in just the right place."

The interested circle had closed in - Jim Harris, the Ritters, Staceys, McDowells, Claytons - all staring without saying a word.

Mom's face was getting as red as the fox fur, and Dad was putting his hands into his pockets and taking them out again, fumbling with his watch fob. He turned to the neighbors. "I never did explain how this happened," he began. But just then a call came for all the candidates to come up onto the platform, and we moved away from the sea of accusing faces.

Next: Dad speaks at the political rally.