Evening Star Newspaper, April 21, 1940, Page 97

LITTLE SHOT Continved from page six They were lenient about visitors, in ‘he case of a trusty due for parole; l.illie generally spent most of the afternoon talking with him. Joe’s heart lodged, hot and dry, in 1is throat. He had to drive that truck :he next trip. “I — she’ll only be here 1 few minutes,” he said when they wvere halfway across the yard; he souldn’t speak before then. ““She — I ot a letter and she said she was going 10me for the week end and could only irop in a few minutes. I'll take the truck. I — "’ His speech choked off as 1e saw Smitty emerge from the guard :aptain’s office. Smitty was the deputy sheriff who had brought Joe to prison two years ago. “Hello, Joe,” Smitty said, and Joe realized he’'d been staring. “Brought in a couple of new ones,” the guard said to Joe, “‘Smitty did."” Joe Bell remembered that Smitty had given him a shot of raw whiskey on the way to the prison two years ago; and now Joe felt the desire for another one. He was all right, but that whiskey would come in handy anyhow. *Joe, honey — *’ They were on either side of the long table, leaning across to each other. Lillie’s lips were soft. and so warm he knew his were dead cold. “Honey . . . " They sat a little while on opposite sides of the table, holding hands over the partition board running down the center. She had changed some in the two years, and it always hurt him to realize it. She had lost some weight, and her coat was threadbare on the sleeves and collar. She was paying her money to a lawyer to work for parole. Hard little worry lines were forming on her face. THEY talked a little, and Joe kept watching the wall clock. They didn’t mention parole any more; it was too near and too big, now, too tremendous to be uttered. Lillie had spent a week end in Frampton — a salesman in the office had been going and it didn’t cost anything — and everything back home was just the same. You'd hardly know you'd been away, she said. There were birds in that nest in the old split tree by the section corner. They'd built a new wing on the church, and cut down the old poplars in front of the Welling place. Florence and Orville Hess had a new baby — that made three now — and it was funny thinking of them as folks with a family; and Eunice Knutson was getting married to Don Seeley. The CCC boys had made a road out of that old mountain trail they used to hike. She'd seen her folks for a nice visit, and her father was wanting to take things easy as soon as "Joe came back to handle the place. A man would never get rich on that place; he’d never starve, either. Her father was getting on now. He had to hire help for the busy seasons, and on a farm a man can’t afford to hire cash help; he’s got to trade work around. He'd had an offer for the place, but he wanted the land to stay in the family. He would hang on until Joe and Lillie came to take over . . . And as Lillie talked about the old place and the old town and the old days, the hard little worry lines went away and her face was full and fresh like he remembered it back before he and the State began marking off the hours together. Talking with Lillie had lifted him through many of those long dark hours he had tolled off with the State. The words and the memories and the promise had been things to clutch at, for two years is a long time to count hours, and there are some things a man can’t think about too much, with safety; Lillie was the shield against IT'S A FACT... THAT school children in Shakespeare’s time were required to put in a twelve- hour day. * * * THAT students at Harvard College were publicly whipped in 1660 for misdemeanors. * * * THAT a canary’s heart beats 1,000 times a minute — as against twenty- five beats for an elephant. * * * THAT the celebration of Christmas Day was punishable by a fine in Mas- sachusetts in 1659. —R.W. Dawson those things, and he lived for the first Thursday of each month, but now the clock was moving, and he had to drive that truck. “Lillie— I —listen, honey, I’'m busy today. I'll see you next month, huh?”’ Her face was instantly thin again. *Joe, what’s the matter? Generally you — Are you all right?”’ “Just — I'm busy. Got to make an- other trip with the truck — *’ “But they generally get another man when I call — Joe, is anything the matter? Is it —did something come up about’’ — she still couldn’t say the word “‘parole’’ — ‘‘something that maybe you won’t be — "’ “l got work to do,” he said, dog- gedly. “Joe, is anything wrong? Are you feeling well? Are you getting enough green vegetables — 2’ “I'm all right,”” he said gruffly. The clock was moving. He had to take THIS WEEK MAGAZINE out that truck. He’d brought it in. He was in this now. He had to finish it. “It’s just — well, that old soap about the farm and all. That don’t go with me.” It was striking a blow to get free from an embrace, and he felt rotten. But he had to get rid of her. “Joe — you're joking,"”’ she said, hopefully, with fear in her eyes. “You're just joking, Joe. You— you've had a long time to think, have- n’t you, honey? You don’t feel the way you did when you first came here, do you, honey? You're all through with Camgrande. You know that. You were a silly kid with silly ideas, and you got in with bad company and made a mistake. But you’ve had time to think, and you're just joking now. Aren’t you, honey?"’ Tlm-: was going. “I'll be seeing you,"”” he said. Then she lashed at him with a cer- tain desperation: ‘‘You haven't changed! You've had two years to think, and it hasn’t helped you! You ‘re a coward. Joe Bell, you're a cow- ard! Things weren’t easy back in Frampton, so you gave up and came to the city. Things were hard in the city, so you gave up and went to Cam- grande. Yes, you had hard luck — but still you gave up. You became a tool for Camgrande, because you couldn’t fight life on the square. You had to have things whether you earned them or not. You had to be a big shot. You're still a coward. You're afraid to think for yourself after two years. “You're afraid to stand on your own feet. You're afraid to go back to Frampton and face people who know you’ve been in prison. You're just a dupe for Camgrande. All right, keep on pulling Camgrande’s chestnuts out of the fire. Go on, be a big shot! Keep your eyes shut! Goodby, Big Shot!” She whirled away with her face in her hands. Joe would have followed around the end of the table, but a guard whistled. Joe was let out the back way into the yard. The truck was in the delivery alley, loaded with bales of gray blankets. Joe crossed towards it, and the sound of his shoes on the gravel was a dry harsh thing. The guard by the truck was saying, “Roll her away, Big Shot.” The truck was loaded and ready, and hidden in it would be Eddie Meade. It was big stuff, helping break Eddie Meade out of prison. A job for a big shot. . . Joe crossed the yard, and the thing he’d tried not to think about for two years came welling up like a volcano. He couldn’t stop it. This was a job for a big shot. As Joe climbed into the truck he knew what he'd been afraid to face for these two years when there was too much time in which to think. He knew he was a little shot. He always had been. He always would be. He didn’t count, not even with Cam- grande. He was a tocl to be used; he was somebody to take a rap so that an important guy could go free; he was a guy to pull chestnuts out of the fire. . That conviction was now an explo- sive thing, but the funny part was that he didn’t care. There is a place for every man, if he knows his place. There was a place for Joe. That place 7 was Frampton, running the farm for Lillie’s father. A man wouldn’t get rich doing that, but he wouldn’t starve; and he could get the things a little shot gets out of life — the quiet satisfaction of work and harvest, the slow esteem of the community, and the hope a man has for his children. He started up the truck, backed out of the alley, drove to the first gate. He'd been too big for his pants; he’d been a fool and a dupe. He didn’t want any part of this business of breaking Eddie Meade out of stir. But now it was too late. He'd brought that ringer truck in. All he could do now was take it out, and hope for the best. That’s all a little shot can do — follow orders and hope for the best. At the gate he signed out on the book. The gate guard was stony faced as he checked the load and looked under the truck. No small talk; no talk at all. Joe breathed through his mouth because he made a noise other- wise. The gate guard handed him a card. “Okay, Big Shot.” Joe went to (Continved on next page) DONT COVER UPA LET THE FAMOUS MEDICATED CREAM THAT'S AIDED THOUSANDS HELP CLEAR UP YOUR COMPLEXION ® A poor complexion can cheat you of a lot of .Doa’t try to cover up a skin chat’s marred by externally caused life’s fun!.. rough-lookmg or blemishes! Let medicated Noxzema help restore your matural, healthy skin beauty. Noxzema helps reduce enlarged pores with nfisd in softenin, externall blemishes. Use it as & Night Cream m! Powder Base. Get a jar at any drug or dep. store foday. its mildly astringent action . rough skin... helps heal up “IN THIS NEW BOOK, DR. MERRICK HAS PERFORMED A GREAT SERVICE TO DOG OWNERS!” By Dr A C. MERRICK Doctor of Veterinar 3 PARD LABELS— in advonce of publication Y Mediine Dr. L. A. Merillat, Executive Secretary of the American Veterinary Medical Association ology . . . in pathology . . 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