Trouble in July by Erskine Caldwell Read Free Book Online Page A

could go back to the day they were married and start his life all over again. He knew if he could do that, he would avoid politics as if it were a plague.
    “I’d sort of looked forward to a few days of peace and quiet down here on the creek, Jim,” he said wearily. “It’s about the only real pure vacation I ever have for myself.”
    “Maybe all Judge Ben Allen wants is to say a few words,” Jim said sympathetically, “and you can come right back down here again.”
    Jeff looked at him hopefully.
    “There is a chance of that, ain’t there, Jim?”
    “Sure,” Jim told him. “The Judge wouldn’t be likely to make any big changes. The primary election is a long way off.”
    “All right,” Jeff said, speaking decisively. He started the motor and began turning the car around. When he had got it straightened out, he called to Jim: “I’ll hurry back to town and see Judge Ben Allen. You and Bert keep things like they should be at the jailhouse.”
    He drove off, working the car up into a high rate of speed immediately. He left Jim standing in the road.
    It was eighteen miles back to Andrewjones, but he drove up the main street less than half an hour later. He passed through the courthouse square when it was only a few minutes past two o’clock and went directly up Maple Street towards Judge Ben Allen’s house. On the way he passed the all-night filling station and saw three or four men standing beside a car while gasoline was being pumped into it. He speeded up so as not to be recognized. He was certain the men were getting ready to go to Flowery Branch and join in the hunt.
    When he reached the driveway in front of Judge Ben Allen’s house, he turned the car sharply and drove it under the wing of the building that had been built for the carriage entrance. He got out as quickly as he could, not even taking time to close the car-door.
    He mounted the steps, crossed the porch, and began knocking vigorously on the paneling.
    Judge Ben Allen had been a Circuit Court justice for more than twenty years, and he had retired from the bench when he was sixty-five. His wife had been dead for eleven years, and he was alone in the world. If he had any close relatives, nobody in Andrewjones was aware of it, because he never mentioned the fact. The only visitors he had at his house were politicians. They invariably left after discussing the business that brought them there, and none of them had ever remained to pay a social call. Judge Ben Allen raised pigeons in his backyard. The house itself was the largest and whitest in Andrewjones. It was a three-story colonial with thick round columns that extended from the ground to the roof. The Democratic Party was split into two factions in Julie County, and Judge Ben Allen had taken over the leadership of the larger one. The Allen-Democrats had not lost an election since he had been in control, and the county was run by the politicians fortunate enough to be on friendly terms with him. The scarcity of Republican voters in the county had long before ruled out any possibility of a Republican running for an office, and the handful of people who otherwise would have voted that ticket were scattered among the two factions in the Democratic Party.
    In a few minutes the door was opened by Wardlaw, Judge Ben Allen’s Negro man. Wardlaw was several years younger than Judge Allen, but he looked almost twice as old. His hair was as white as cotton, and his body was bent. He walked in a shuffling manner with his body stooped.
    Jeff pushed Wardlaw out of the way and went in, slamming the door behind him. Wardlaw got out of his way. It was not the first time the sheriff had come in a hurry to see the Judge.
    Judge Ben Allen was waiting for Jeff in the library. He had on his nightgown and slippers, and Wardlaw had put a blue-and-white blanket around his shoulders. He was sitting at his desk.
    “What’s the matter, Judge?” Jeff asked at once, standing before him at the desk like a prisoner on