Plains Crazy by J.M. Hayes Read Free Book Online

jobs for everybody who wants them. Lord knows, Benteen County hasn’t got many of those just now. Especially good paying jobs.”
    The chairman looked wistfully at his breakfast. “Yeah,” he agreed, “good jobs, for a while. Then most of them will go away.”
    â€œBut not all.” Jud Haines was a natural politician. He was good-looking, well-groomed, and well-dressed, at least by Buffalo Springs standards. With his artfully rumpled shock of blond hair and his winning smile, he had the look of the all-American boy every mother wanted her son to grow into, or the All-American man every girl in search of a mate hoped to hook. Chairman Wynn recognized the type. Jud Haines was himself, a couple of decades and a lot of energy back. But Haines was also a contradiction. He was a college graduate who had moved
to
Benteen County, not from it. Haines had had his fingers in every scheme for a quick buck that had wandered through the county since he arrived. And, surprisingly, he’d made just enough of them pay off to fund a successful run for the board of supervisors. Now, he’d hooked his star to this latest scheme, though so had lots of others, the chairman among them. Maybe Haines was right. Maybe there were fortunes to be made in wind power.
    â€œEven a few good jobs that stay here would be a big improvement. But after construction, when most of the jobs go away, plenty of benefits remain. For those smart enough to invest in this, it’s gonna be a money tree. I mean, big, big returns on every dollar.”
    The chairman noticed a lot of people in Bertha’s were eavesdropping. Some of them had already bought in. Most of the rest were probably thinking about it—if they had anything to invest. The average household income in Benteen County was just under $20,000 a year, rising that high only because the top ten percent were so far above everyone else—America in microcosm, with less of a middle class.
    â€œThe way we’re writing this up,” Haines continued, “a percentage of our profits will flow into the community for improvements in perpetuity. We’re talking street lights, sidewalks, street maintenance, replacing washed-out bridges. Hell, even a new courthouse. And this thing’s sure to draw tourists, but we got to get those last few sections of land tied up. Got to put pressure on Ed Jacques and Mad Dog and the Eismingers. Show them the light. Help them get rich while they help the rest of us do the same.”
    Bertha elbowed past, carrying a couple of platters of bacon and pancakes, refilling coffee cups in her wake. The chairman knew his breakfast was rapidly cooling.
    â€œAll right, give me fifteen minutes and we’ll talk. See about getting this on our agenda.”
    â€œThank you, Mr. Chairman.” Haines prevented Wynn from picking up his fork by reaching out and grabbing his hand and pumping it like he expected to draw water. “God bless you, sir. You won’t be sorry. It’s for the community.” Haines’ voice was rising as he finally let go and headed for the door. “Everyone in Benteen County is gonna sing your praises, sir, cause everybody in this community is gonna profit from the Benteen County Energy Cooperative Wind Farm.”
    He got to the door. Opened it, turned back for the exit line the chairman had been sure he would deliver. Haines grinned and smiled at Bertha’s customers. “Got wind?” he called to them. Then he was gone.
    Chairman Wynn studied the congealing grease on his plate. He picked up his fork and tasted it. Not bad. And given the copious use of onions and garlic in Bertha’s breakfasts, wind was something her customers could count on before the day was over.
    ***
    Mrs. Kraus was on the lookout for small dark men with thick eyebrows, five o’clock shadows, and box cutters—or maybe pipe bombs. What she got instead was Mad Dog.
    Good Lord, what was he doing with war paint