Clark pulled into the parking lot at Vincent’s Hardware at eight-fourteen a.m. Thursday and shut off his truck. He still had to remind himself that he owned a motor vehicle at all. For the first time in his adult life, his driver’s license was a necessary accessory every time he left the house. And Smallville lacked the bus service, subways, and cab companies he’d used so often in Metropolis.
Flying everywhere through the friendly skies of Smallville was tempting, but only for a brief moment. All he needed now was for someone else to know he was Superman.
He walked through the front door and waved at the young man at the cash register. “Hey, Manny,” he called. “How’s business lately?”
Manny gave him a puzzled Glad-you’re-here-to-shop-but-who-are-you? smile, then his eyebrows snapped up in recognition and he all but hopped over the counter. “Clark!” he called out as he embraced the new arrival. “Mi amigo verdad! You are back in Smallville! Is this a long visit or a brief one, my friend?”
“Long one, buddy,” Clark said. As Manny held the hug, Clark patted him on the back and added, “Hey, come on, I’m glad to see you too, but people are gonna start talking.”
Manny laughed and released him. “Of course, of course! And you have come to Vincent’s Hardware solely to greet your old friend and high school backfield mate, the man who blocked for you on those many touchdowns and gained you both fame and glory!”
Clark smiled back. “That’s one reason, yeah, but I also want to pick up some electrical supplies. I’m running a power line to my parents’ barn and I hope you have what I need to make it happen.”
“Of course we do! You require heavy-duty cable, yes? How much?”
“I think ninety feet will do it. I’ll need some PCV pipe, too.”
Manny pulled a small notebook and a pencil from his shirt pocket. “To keep it from burrowing animals and water, yes?”
“You got it. I’ll need two grounded outlets, boxes included, an overhead light fixture, and a small breaker box for the main tap.”
Manny’s smile shrank. “This is not a simple extension cord, then. It is a permanent addition to your parents’ property?”
“Yep. Why?”
Manny lifted his hands palm up to either side and shrugged. “I can and will make whatever materials you require available to you, my friend, but a project such as this requires permission from the electric utility before you begin your project. You must also have the work certified by a licensed electrician before sending power through it.”
Clark blinked. “When did that get changed?”
“Four, perhaps five years ago, when Pastor Phillips asked one of his members to perform an electrical repair. The zealous young man went beyond the specifications given him, and due to his ill-directed efforts, a fire broke out in the church building during Sunday evening service. No one was injured and the fire was quickly contained and extinguished, but the county assembly decided that all such – er, ‘upgrades’ – must be certified by professionals. It is not merely electrical repairs and additions, either. Extensive building repairs, any added rooms or exterior walls, and many plumbing enhancements are also restricted.”
“But my folks don’t live in Smallville proper.”
“They do live within the county and the regulations apply. I am sorry, Clark, but I do not wish for you to be fined or even arrested for your innocent actions.”
Clark sighed. “Okay, I guess I can wait little bit. Can I pick up those items today? I’d like to have them ready when the county okays the project.”
“Hmm. I must first make sure I have everything on this list. If you will allow me five minutes, I will examine my stores.”
“Sure. I’ll just poke around and see what I can find.”
Manny vanished to the back room as Clark looked around the store. Mr. Vincent hadn’t changed the layout much. Clark smiled as he browsed the section of hand tools. The hammers, saws, screwdrivers, drills, and accessories all looked familiar, but he noted that the prices had gone up. And the store displayed two brands of nails and bolts that hadn’t been on the shelves the last time he’d shopped here. He sighed as he realized that he’d expected Smallville to remain exactly the same after he’d left, like a prehistoric insect trapped in amber, and not be affected by things like higher costs or new materials and products or time.
Guess life goes on and change happens everywhere, he mused.
Manny came back and said, “Clark, my good friend, at this moment we have neither the breaker box nor the PVC piping you will need. There is a delivery truck due Friday afternoon, and if you wish I will set those items aside with the others you require.”
“What time will the truck get here?”
“Perhaps two o’clock, perhaps six o’clock. The delivery is from Wichita and depends on others delivering to the supplier on time, so it cannot be scheduled so precisely.”
Clark shook his head, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll swing by Saturday morning. Nine o’clock too early?”
“If the truck does not contain all of the items you require, I will call you on Friday evening. What is your number?”
“Just call my parents’ farm. I’m living there now.”
Manny frowned slightly. “Truly? Has something untoward occurred in your employment with the Daily Planet?”
Clark’s eyebrows rose a little. “You know where I work?”
“I believe that everyone in Smallville and the surrounding counties has that information. You may blame your father for that. He often boasts about your accomplishments at the newspaper, and rightfully so, I think. He is quite proud of his son who has done so many excellent things.”
Clark couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. “He tells me that a lot, but it’s nice to hear it from someone else, too.” He reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“No, no,” Manny said. “I will accept your payment when delivery is made to you on Saturday and not before! Mr. Vincent does not require pre-payment of items unless they are special order products, things we do not normally handle. These items are all part of our usual inventory.”
“Okay, if you say so. See you in a couple of days.”
“I hope so. And do not forget to call the electric company!”
*****
Rachel frowned at the report in her hands. Bob Clay’s cattle had been found on the south side of Smallville at the railroad freight station, but not until after the thieves had sold two head to an unlicensed butcher in northern Oklahoma and the remainder to a cattle buyer from Arizona. The buyer was adamant that either the county or the sheriff refund the purchase price before he surrendered the cattle or he would ship them to his corporate home. The butcher had been arrested by local police in Alva, who had outstanding warrants on him, but both beeves had already been slaughtered and most of the choice cuts had already been sold. The sales were all cash and therefore untraceable. And the original thieves were still at large, although now everyone had descriptions of the truck, including the license plate number, and detailed descriptions of two of the gang members.
If she got to Judge McCreary before lunch, maybe he’d sign the order to surrender the cattle. The buyer hadn’t transported them from the corral where he’d turned over the bag of cash to the thieves, so this wouldn’t involve an out-of-state seizure. Wouldn’t that be a headache and a half.
She stood and opened her office door. “Denise, I gotta go see Judge McCreary ‘bout Bob Clay’s cattle. Need a court order from him to take possession. Soon’s I get it, I’m heading south to the corral down by the train yard. I’ll call Bob when I head out.”
Denise nodded as she made notes on a pad. “Got a call for you from your mom. Seems your dad is going home this afternoon and she wants you be there to help her with him if you can shake loose.”
Rachel paused, then nodded. “Long as nothin’ bad pops up, I’ll be there. She say what time?”
“Between two and five. It depends on how long the resident takes do finish his rounds.”
“M’kay. Gimme a holler on the radio if she calls you.”
“Got it. You need a deputy with you when you see that cattle buyer?”
“Naw. I can handle Plunkett. That man’s all hat and literally no cattle.”
Denise spluttered a laugh. “Your jokes are so bad you make Clark Kent look like a real hero comic. That sounds like something he’d come up with.”
Rachel froze. It was weird how Clark kept coming up on conversation or just in her mind lately. And now he was back in Smallville.
And he’d carried her in his arms as if she’d been a damsel in distress and he a knight on his snowy white charger.
No. That was not a productive train of thought. His truck wasn’t pure snowy white. And she was not any good at all at damseling.
Suddenly Denise was beside her. “Rachel? Honey, you okay?” She paused, then quietly asked, “Did I do wrong when mentioned Clark?”
Rachel sighed. “No, you didn’t do nothin’ wrong. It’s just been a really weird week.”
Denise patted her on the shoulder and smiled. “Okay. You go get those cows back for Bob. I’ll hold down the fort here.”
“Make sure Tommy keeps an eye out for that truck while he’s out on patrol. Those dummies might just bring that empty trailer back for a second helping if they think they can get away with it.”
“Will do. Drive safely.” Denise paused as Rachel turned away, then she added, “There’ve been too many bad wrecks this year already.”
Rachel blinked, then tossed Denise a smile and a wave over her shoulder, then pushed through the outer door.
*****
Whit Bascombe had been with the railroad for thirty-two years, ever since he’d graduated from high school. He’d been freight manager in Smallville for the last eleven years, and eight years ago he’d taken on the station manager’s job, too. Whit had always prided himself on his even temper and friendly disposition, and despite being seriously provoked a number of times over the years, he’d never had a physical confrontation with a customer.
Gary Plunkett, the man who’d accidentally bought Bob Clay’s stolen cattle, was very close to ending Whit’s record.
Plunkett adjusted his store-fresh Stetson and leaned into Whit. “Look, Mr. Bosco, I need—”
“The name is Bascombe! Bascombe! Try and remember that!”
“Fine! Mr. Bascombe, I need a forty-foot cattle car so I can load up my herd. We have a customer—”
“No! I told you I can’t give you a cattle car! I told you the county sheriff called my office and told me these cattle is stolen!”
“I didn’t steal them!”
“Didn’t say you did. All I said was that they’s stolen cattle. And you can’t ship them anywhere until the sheriff says you can!”
“I can’t wait for that! I have a schedule to keep!”
“Sheriff says you can’t take ‘em.”
“I say I can!”
Whit stepped back and crossed his arms. “You got to talk to the sheriff about that.”
“I tell you I don’t—”
“Are you Raymond Plunkett? I’m Sheriff Harris.”
Whit had seen Rachel Harris pull into the parking lot and quietly walk up behind Plunkett as the man fumed and stomped at Whit, and he enjoyed watching the man start and spin when Rachel spoke.
“Sheriff!” Plunkett growled. “You need to tell this man to get me a forty-foot cattle car so I can load my herd! The regular freight run to Phoenix is due this afternoon and I need to get my cattle on that train!”
Whit moved to one side and watched Rachel straighten and fix her face in her best “county sheriff” expression. “He can’t do that, Mr. Plunkett. Those cattle aren’t yours.”
Plunkett almost threw his hat down on the platform, then yelled, “I paid good money for those cattle! They’re mine!”
Rachel reached into her windbreaker and pulled out a folded sheet of heavy paper. “Judge Everson McCreary says they’re not yours. This is a court order telling you to surrender custody of those cattle to the county sheriff’s office.”
“WHAT! I will do no such thing!”
Whit almost laughed as Rachel rested her right hand on the handcuff holster on her belt. “If you refuse to accede to a legal order from the court, sir, I will have to arrest you and charge you with grand theft of cattle and obstruction of justice.”
Plunkett leaned into her face. “You wouldn’t dare, little girl!”
Rachel grabbed Plunkett’s shirt collar with her left hand and lifted it. At the same time, she unsnapped the cover on the handcuffs with her right. “I am sheriff of this county, sir! You will submit to this court order and obey my legal orders or you will go to jail!” She pulled his face closer to hers and squinted up into his eyes. “Is. That. Clear.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, then apparently decided it wasn’t a good idea to test her. Shoot, Whit already knew that. He’d seen Rachel face down some pretty rough customers, most of ‘em not dumb enough to make her reach for her cuffs. Plunkett had almost gotten himself plunked in jail.
Plunkett gritted his teeth and said, “It’s clear, Sheriff. The court says they’re stolen. You may take custody.”
Rachel slowly moved Plunkett back, giving him a show of her upper body strength, then abruptly released his collar. “Good. The county thanks you for your cooperation, sir.” Only then did she refasten the snap on her handcuff case.
In a low but sharp voice, Plunkett answered, “You’ll hear from our company lawyers, Sheriff. This isn’t over.”
Rachel nodded without taking her eyes from his. “That’s your right, Mr. Plunkett. I know Judge McCreary will be happy to talk to your team of attorneys. He likes to discuss the finer points of Kansas law with other members of the legal profession. And they can discuss how your bosses paid under market value in cash for cattle without gettin’ a proper bill of sale.”
Plunkett took in a long breath through his nose and held it for a long moment. Then he huffed it all out at once and turned away. The last Whit saw of him was his big Stetson bumping into the top of the doorframe of his rental car as he jumped in and roared out of the parking lot.
Whit turned to Rachel and chuckled. “You sure showed him how the cow ate the cabbage! Good job, Rachel.” He saw her eyes harden slightly and raised his hands to placate her. “Sorry. I meant, Good job, Sheriff.”
Her expression softened a little. “That’s better. Is it okay if I keep ‘my’ cattle in this corral until Bob Clay comes to get them?”
“No problem. Me and Bob go way back. Course, he goes farther back than I do.”
Rachel laughed. “I gotta get goin’. My daddy’s going home this afternoon and I wanna be there.” She turned to go, then stopped and said, “And if Plunkett comes back, you call me, y’ hear? I don’t wanna have to arrest you for shootin’ him.”
Whit nodded. “Will do, Sheriff.” She raised one eyebrow at him, so he added, “Just wanted you to know I ain’t forgot already.”
“Gotcha.”
“And tell your daddy that I’ll be by to see him next week. We got some fat that needs chewin’ over.”
She chuckled. “I’ll tell him.”
*****
Lois glanced at the clock and frowned. Nine-thirty already? Where had the morning gone? It seemed as if she’d just walked through the door.
She shook her head and focused on her current assignment. Perry had given her a quickie for the Metro section on drunken driving in Suicide Slum. She had an outline ready. All she needed were the facts and figures Jimmy was supposed to bring her.
She looked up and scanned the room but didn’t spot her quarry. She frowned again and drew in a breath to yell for him but was interrupted by a soft “ahem” behind her right shoulder.
Lois turned and looked. “Kim! Hey, girl, what brings you here? You looking for Jimmy?”
Kim smiled shyly and nodded. “We’re supposed to have lunch together today, but I just found out that my schedule at the station got changed and I’m on the air from eleven to three for the rest of this week and next week instead of three to seven. I wanted to reschedule our date for Saturday, but I can’t find him.”
Lois smiled. “That may be my fault. He’s digging up some statistics for me on my next story. I expect him pretty soon.”
“Good. I’ll have to leave by ten to get there in time to take turnover from the mid-morning team. Mutt and Jeff are fun on the air, but not so much if you’re late to relieve them.”
“Yeah, we have a few folks like that in the newspaper business, too. You can wait here if you want.”
“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt you. I know you’re busy.”
“I am, but I can spare a few minutes to chat. Where was he taking you today?”
“The Fudge Castle, I think. He said you’d given it a good review.”
Lois chuckled with her. “Trust me, it’s great. Their desserts are divine.”
Perry suddenly appeared over Kim’s shoulder and smiled. “Well, if it isn’t the famous Kim Demarco of WMET oldies radio! I really like hearing your voice on the air, especially when you play ‘Hound Dog’ or any of the other great ones.”
Kim smiled back. “Thank you, Mr. White. I hope I’m not butting in, but I wanted to see Jimmy and talk to him for just a minute.”
“No problem. Why don’t you step into my office while you wait? He’ll be coming by here to check with me anyway, and I don’t think I’ve ever told you about the time Elvis first sang with Ann-Margret on the ‘Viva Las Vegas’ soundstage.”
Kim glanced at Lois, who shrugged helplessly, then followed Perry as the old editor rehashed yet another Elvis anecdote to her.
Lois smiled, then turned back to her word processor. The slap of a folder hitting her desk made her jump away from the keyboard. Her hand flew to her throat as she recognized her assailant.
“What the – Jimmy! What are you trying to do!”
Jimmy leaned in close. With narrowed eyes and clenched jaws, he quietly said, “I don’t want you talking to Kim. I don’t want you to speak to her. I don’t want you around her. And I especially don’t want you giving her any relationship advice.” He paused and grunted, then said, “Is that clear?”
“What? Jimmy, what are you—”
“You ran CK off and I don’t want you infecting Kim with whatever evil you’ve picked up! I’m not asking you, Lois, I’m telling you. Don’t. Talk. To. Kim.”
“Wha – why you little pipsqueak! How dare you order me around?”
He leaned in even closer and put his hands on her desk. “Call it good advice, call it a warning, call it an order, call it what you want. I don’t want you talking to Kim. I think she and I might have a future together, and I don’t want you to screw it up for me like you did with CK.”
That was too personal. She couldn’t let that stand. She leaped to her feet and inhaled to yell at him but stopped when Kim called out, “Jimmy! Over here!”
Lois looked over her shoulder at Perry’s office, where Kim was smiling and waving at Jimmy. The young man narrowed his eyes at Lois for a quick moment, then sped around the desk and all but bounced to Kim’s side. She reached out take his hand, and for a moment or two the girl saw no one but Jimmy Olsen.
The tableau reminded her of something—
Oh, no.
She and Clark had put on similar displays of constrained affection in front of Perry until recently. The memory cut like a sword and weakened her knees.
She had to get out of there.
Conditioned reflex caught her purse strap as she half-sprinted, half-staggered to the ladies’ room. She flopped on the couch and dug in her purse for a tissue before she ruined her makeup.
The room seemed to be empty. Her muffled sobs echoed off the tile walls and resonated with the metal stall dividers. It took just a few moments to regain control, but those few moments undermined her justification for running Clark out of the city. Jimmy’s ambush had knocked her off-balance and muddled her sense of right and wrong.
But just for those few moments. Lois quickly forced back the sobs, wiped away the tears, and repaired her makeup. She glared at the mirror and saw a determined, modern, independent woman staring back. She repeated the catechism she’d memorized since the incident she mentally referred to as The Night of The Betrayal.
A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
The best man for a job is a woman.
Men only take from women and never give anything back.
I drink from a bottle filled with men’s tears.
I am complete and whole within myself.
I need no man to complete me. By the time she’d wrapped up her silent catechism, her reflection’s eyes were once again hard and dark. The woman’s mouth was thin and firm. The nose in the mirror flared once, then slowly relaxed.
Lois felt whole again.
With the force of a thousand massive bulldozers, she shoved any residual feelings for Clark Kent into her emotional Grand Canyon and watched them tumble to the lowest level and crash into the raging river below. The swift current smashed them against the rocky walls and broke them into tiny fragments, then scattered them along its deep channel. She’d utterly destroyed those emotional artifacts forever.
Once more.
They wouldn’t dare rise again. Not this time.
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