A Touch of Rural Justice: Another Illinois Love Story

By Paul Schoaff

Another story by an author who loves Illinois...Building on the characters from Twin Beeches, this story focuses on the destruction of prime Illinois farm land to get at valuable coal underneath. The author explores all the sides to the argument while placing young Eddie and Martha Jo Hawkins into the middle of the fight when the mining company decides to destroy their home, Twin Beeches, to build a coal processing plant 'big enough to be seen all the way from Peoria'.

People from the town of Woodland depend on the jobs provided by the mine. They don't appreciate Eddie shutting down the existing mine with his sabotage schemes, and threaten Rural Justice to burn Twin Beeches themselves if Eddie isn't stopped.

The mining company believes in helping America attain energy independence, making money, providing jobs and rewarding investors -- all worthy aims. The story tries to be sensitive to both sides of the coal-mining debate and to give credit as it is due. Above all, when you set out to use violent acts to get your point across, unintended consequences will usually result, often ones you wish you could take back.

Through all this tension, the issue of who Eddie really is and who he is becoming are explored.

The author, who once participated in a "Touch of Rural Justice" visitation himself, creates a believable and exciting story out of the quiet Illinois countryside, once again proving that things, and people, are not always what they appear to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Schoaff
• Release date: Sep 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301687169

Paul Schoaff

Thank you for the unexpected amount of success my books have attained...I thought people would read them, but the degree of acceptance is gratifying.I write from an island of clay in the sandpine country of North Carolina. I woke from a dream one night with the story of Twin Beeches fighting to get out of my fingers and into the computer screen. Rural Justice, the fight against the deprivations of strip mining, is based on the experience of many people who found their lives uprooted by the monstrous shovels, trucks and loaders needed to fuel our ever expanding electrical appetite. Rural Murder contrasts the traditional values and practices of former days against the inroads of more liberal activities.... Martha jo and her extended family are the consistent protaginal threads.My memories of all those people and institutions of my youth who made up the matrix of rich and poor, young and old, ambitious and idle, pious and hell-raising....all are used to create startlingly true to life characters.Adding my imagination, I created stories worthy of the players, ones I hope will leave you moved and wanting to know if there is still a quiet town named Woodland you can visit, sit in the park and try to beat the world's best checker players, or try your hand at finding the spot where Fay Rawley and his Cadillac are truly hidden.May you, too, be blessed with a background to which you can hearken back when you need to think how far we have come, and whether we've really made progress.Your comments, positive or not, are appreciated.

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A Touch of Rural Justice

(Another Illinois Love Story)

Paul Schoaff

Copyright Paul Schoaff 2012

Published at Smashwords

ISBN 9781301687169

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

PROLOG

Have you ever been walking through the deep woods and come to the raw edge of that humus, leaf-littered, natural place?  You might have struggled across the Everglades and stumbled out into the back yard of the farthest plotted subdivision of Miami.  You might have reached the edge of a river, or a cliff overlooking a river.  You might have cut your way from the jungle to the sandy beach of a tropical island.   Or, like Eddie, you might have worked your way quietly through the undisturbed woodlands up to the edge of the area owned, now, by the Bituminous Coal Company.

On that land, the trees and brush and topsoil no longer exist, and will not return for several thousand years.   A mix of plants not needing many nutrients, plants like blackberry brambles, will find their roothold and thickly spread to cover all the exposed material once laying twenty to one hundred and fifty feet below the surface.   A few species that thrive in conditions half way between woodland and desert will begin to establish colonies there.   Turtles, snakes, all will make their homes there.  The several hundred acre islands of old strip mining lands, isolated within a different ecosystem, will, in some cases, begin to resemble islands in the ocean, or hammocks in the swamp.

Within the old mine, you will find lakes stocked with bass and bream and crappies.  Sometimes, if there are not old piles of waste coal around to eventually turn the water too acidic to allow the fish to survive, such lakes will be a source of relaxation, enjoyment, rest and nutrition for the people who pull their aluminum boats out to the lake behind their fishing car or pickup truck, braving the rough and untended roads left as afterthought by the miners, rather like desiccated veins and arteries  in a mummified body.

But Eddie was not approaching a dead mine, an abandoned mine, or one under development.  He was approaching a working mine and he intended to lay low until well after dark when the third shift workers, their eyes filled with the powerful lights mounted on the mammoth shovel digger, would not notice him walk quickly to the mine office and locker building where he would simply open the door, call out to be sure no one was still there, and toss a Molotov Cocktail into the middle of the main office.

By the time the flicker of flame alerted the shovel crew and the one maintenance man on duty that the office and changing facility was burning, there would be only the slimmest chance anyone would even think to look to the edge of the woodlands, where Eddie quickly and quietly, not without remorse, left the scene.

I: From Wisconsin: Dear Mama....

Dear Mama,

Thank you for understanding this trip was something I absolutely had to do.  And, thank you, too, for not yelling at me for taking Rebecca along.  In a way, we were both auditioning.  We are a package, take us or leave us.

I'll tell you, without any delay, Eddie and I were married one month after I walked up to him as he stood behind the counter of his service station/repair shop in Ripon and, ignoring copious amounts of grease on his coveralls and hands, grabbed him by the hair and smothered him in kisses.  He started to cry a little, and so did I, and he asked if we would come back in two hours, he'd be off and cleaned up.  What can I say?  I went crazy for him 5 years ago and the need I have for him never left me, it just got worse.  I can tell you now, after I came to find him, he feels the same about me.

A few days later, after a bunch of catching up on what we had been doing for five years, we drove around Ripon, up past the college and down to the river, long enough for Rebecca to get so drowsy that she fell into bed at my room of the motel.  I had taken a suite with a separate bedroom for me.   An hour later, Eddie no longer could claim that he didn't have a reason to ask me to marry him.  He agreed that his Daddy gave him really good advice -- if you sleep with a woman, you have to marry her.

Believe it or not, I got pregnant that very night.   I am batting two for two.  Eddie is only one for one, but you'd never have known he had waited all that time.  He just did what I asked him to, and when I was happy, he soon got very happy, too.  We couldn't have been better if we had taken advanced studies.  I think I truly understand that part of how you and Daddy Jo felt about one another; I hope you find someone, soon, to feel that way with, again.

Three weeks later, before we met the preacher who was going to marry us, I took the pregnancy test and simply waited until our wedding night before telling Eddie the news.  I wanted to be sure he could never say to me later, you told me you were in a family way, and that is why I went ahead and married you.  You know, I might have backed out at the last minute if I hadn't known.   Silly, I know.  But, then, you know how I can get.

About a week before we stood up before God and the Preacher and his wife and daughter for witnesses, Eddie asked me if I had brought my birth certificate with me to Wisconsin.  Yes.

Well, you were pretty darned sure of yourself, weren't you?

Yes

So tell me, Miss 'drag-me-down-the-aisle', how do you expect me to get a marriage license, seeing that I wouldn't have a birth certificate I could use to get it?

The panicked look on my face must have been worth the whole setup for him, because he began laughing and pointing at me.  I punched him on the shoulder a few times, and asked, How did you do it?

The first stop I made in Wisconsin was at the U of Wisconsin campus in Madison.   I figured the first thing I needed was a fake I.D., and the U of W campus was a great place to find somebody who could do that. Lucky for me, the guy that they sent me to asked if there was anything else I needed. I just blurted out 'a whole new identity is what I need!’  I thought for a minute I had blown it, because he just looked at me.  I figured he'd head for the first cop he could find and rat me out.  Then, I started to realize he probably had a heck of a lot more to lose than I did, even.

When he could see that I was beginning to understand there was every reason for us to trust one another, he just asked me, real quietly, if I done anything I was ashamed of.  I imagine if I had killed someone and wasn't ashamed of it, it was all the same to him, but he just wanted to be sure he wasn't helping somebody who he'd be better to have never met.

I said back to him, finally, 'Never.'  And, MJ, you know, right then, for the first time, I realized I really was innocent.   Not just innocent, MJ, but I hadn't even done anything in my whole life I was truly sorry for.  I thought to myself, right there, right then, Eddie Hawkins, you are actually a lot better than anyone ever gave you credit for, and it is time you went out and got busy making something more of yourself.

Of course, if that David fellow hadn't recovered?  Well, then, I would have had to take my share of the blame for not taking Buddy's gun from him earlier.  You were right; I was more than a little scared of what he might do.  And, you know, that was Buddy Brinley.  The Buddy Brinley, who was going to have 1200 and some acres of the best farmland anywhere for his graduation present.   How could I know he would turn out crazy?

The birth certificate... I reminded.

Oh, yeah, piece of cake.  The guy just whipped out one from Wisconsin with the seal on it already, filled in all the blanks with what I told him to put, had me sign one doctor's name, and he signed the nurse's name, wrinkled it a little, made a photocopy of it and asked for $500 for the whole package.  Two minutes later, the ink had nearly faded away and the form was soon ready to use again.   You know what?  In five years plus since that day, not one person ever asked me for more than my fake driver's license. Maybe if I wanted to run for President they'd ask me, but credit cards, college bursar, phone company, gas company, they'd ask me for credit references, and I'd just tell them I always paid with cash until now, and they would just shrug, maybe say, lucky you!  Now I can pretty much prove I'm Eddie Hopkins so I can just go to the DMV and get my license, or whatever I need."

When I signed the lease on the station?  Wasn't much to it, just a guy who checked my bank statement, had me sign a few documents, that sort of thing.  I said, 'is that all there is?', and he told me if they didn't get their check before the 5th every month, they'd just come and lock the place and file with a judge to get a finding against me.  And, that was really all there was to it.

And that, Mama, is what I've been up to the last six weeks.   Eddie and I can't come back to Woodland, not together, anyway.  But Rebecca and I will come visit you next week for a few days.

Your two day married but still loving daughter and favorite granddaughter and new son in law,

MJ, RD, and EI (Edward Isaiah, in case you don't remember.)

XXX000XXX

II: Later, another Letter from Wisconsin

Mama,

Thanks for taking the time off to visit with us while we were there.  I supposed knowing we won't be around as much makes the decision a lot easier.

But turning on the waterworks when we left (Rebecca and you, both) was a little over the top, wasn't it?  Still, you made some good points and I'll really try to think hard about them, even more than I have, driving back to Ripon.   I'll admit, there is only one thing we can argue about, all the rest I know you are right.  Of course, that 'thing' is what to do about Eddie's legal troubles?

Do I want to live at Twin Beeches?  Yes.  I love Twin Beeches more every year we are there.  I love living next door to you, I love working our own garden, I love watching the sunset on the River and the fields.  I love the house and all the improvements we put into it.  I love the creek of the floor when I hear Becca in her room upstairs, and the sound of the wind as it whistles through our Beeches.  I love being close to Woodland and the great school where Becca is getting a great start.  I like our trips to Havana or Macomb or Peoria to shop and the way the SUV is crammed to the tops of the windows with stuff when we get home.  And, take all of that and add it together and compound it, then put Eddie coming down the driveway from his garage at the end of the day...I'd love that 3 times as much!

Do I think I could start my working career while living in Woodland?  Probably.  I might have to drive.

Mama, I think we need a very good lawyer, and, no offense to the local talent, Eddie and I can afford to hire a specialist.  We don't even know, though, what questions to ask to try to begin finding the right attorney.

Eddie thinks we should just send a letter to the Governor, telling him his side of the story and asking for a full pardon....

What do you think?

All our love,

Martha Jo

III: Frederick Krohn, CEO BEC

Frederick D. Krohn III, President and CEO of Bituminous Mining Company, a partner company of ANR (American Natural Resources), stood at the floor to ceiling windows of his 38th floor office in the old Carbide and Carbon Building on Michigan Avenue in Chicago.  His prime southeast corner of the floor still had, over the gold-gilded pedestal on the ledge, a decent view of the yacht basin on the Michigan shore, even though skyscraper building over the decades had diminished the view as compared with the original 1929 completion of the Burnham Deco edifice.  Many a Union Carbide executive had spent time standing at these very windows, making momentous decisions about the Chemical and Industrial Gases Business, or deciding whether to cancel all appointments to go down to use his 42 foot sailboat that seemed more and more like a frivolous affectation, particularly once the kids were out of college at Northwestern or Notre Dame or U of Illinois.   Not this Friday afternoon.  Nope.

Today, though, all thoughts turned back toward the decision he and his advisers had been working toward for the past two years.  The location of their next strip mine was the decision.  Every person on the 35th, 36th and 37th floor had the opportunity over the past two years to advance their ideas, but, ultimately, the answer lay only in room 3801, Krohn's office.

Two years earlier, the decision was made to expand to another site.  The 'what to do' decision had been just as difficult as the question of 'where'? had become.

Frederick Krohn knew instinctively before enrolling at Wharton, every entity ultimately acts in its own interest.  Those actions start with a discussion of what are 'needs'.  Every individual has 'needs'.  We need food, water, air and a place to exist without drowning or freezing or being bitten to death by predators.  Those are the essentials.  Once those are satisfied, they almost are forgotten as we carry on up the need-chain to things making life worth living.  Companionship in its many forms, a relationship with a mother or mother-figure; father or father-figure; siblings; groups; all are important second stages of need, and, for some, intense relationships in this sphere make further advancement up the need-tree unnecessary.  Most folks, though, need more of a reason to exist in order to define their happiness.  Some religious orders might have individuals subsisting at the second level, their own personality subsumed into worship of God or a symbolic human or a charismatic leader.  Some people simply are happy to live and serve within their chosen group, never challenging themselves to find new and, even, pleasant experiences outside it.

Closer to the top of the needs-tree, Krohn place the mass of population of the civilized world.  People who seek love and intimacy with another person; people who risk their lives in service of an ideal such as patriotism; people who work to make the rest of us understand another piece of the puzzle of our existence; people who tend the sick and nurse the wounded.  People, in short, who knew life is more than just their individual experience or their individual small group.  People who try, through education and study and worship and devotion to just be the best member of society they can be.

Approaching the top, Krohn saw a much smaller group of people standing on the shoulders of those just below.  These folks are people who are trying to make a difference.  Trying to change the way society behaves for the better.  People who say truth to power.  People with the education, principles, drive and charisma to lead the country in the right direction.

Krohn thought of himself as one of the elite in an elite group, one who had been entrusted with making decisions and marshaling forces causing society to move in one direction or another.   He was a handsome, tall, well built dark skinned man with self-confidence oozing from every pore.  Only 43 years old, he had risen from the special projects group of Bituminous Mining like the star he was.  Every assignment completed quickly and well, he shone best in explaining the need to proceed along the path he had chosen.  After two years and four brilliant presentations, he moved into the financial section to ferret out the reason monthly, quarterly and yearly reports were frequently late and often requiring revision even years later.  At a critical point in the one-year assignment, he laid a reorganization plan on the CFO's desk and said, simply, Do this and you have a good chance of correcting the problems and keeping your job.  The CFO tried to lock eyes and hold the gaze of Krohn, but found, after only fifteen seconds, Krohn’s confidence would not be shaken.   He agreed to read it and get back to Krohn in seven days.

Seven days later, Krohn went directly to the CFO's office upon reaching the Michigan Avenue building from the nearest El stop.   The CFO simply said, as Krohn entered his office, I don't agree with some of the personnel separations, and I don't agree with some of the major details of the reorganization.  Krohn politely listened and responded to the man's arguments and found in them a simple desire to not allow Krohn to specify the steps to be taken.  If the plan were implemented, the CFO wanted full credit for it.

Krohn shrugged.  Not a problem for me to give you the full credit.  You are the one to have to make the decision to proceed, so you deserve the credit.  Why don't you call upstairs and tell 'Bernie' (the CEO) you have a solution you want to discuss with him.

The CFO had no choice but to try to call Krohn's bluff.   He made the call, claimed the reorganization steps as his idea and asked for permission to begin making the moves.  'Bernie' then gave the CFO the shock of his corporate life by replying, Why don't you let me talk to Krohn while you begin cleaning out your office.   The CEO had had Krohn's plan on his desk for two weeks, along with a separate letter stating the CFO himself was the source of much of the confusion and disorganization in his department.  The CEO had suggested Krohn's approach to the CFO, and would have moved the man to a cushy place as a President of Governmental Relations in the lobbying office in Washington if the man had recognized his failing and had agreed to all the changes needed without trying to take any credit.

Eight years passed, with Krohn acting as a special assistant in each of the major offices -- including legal and engineering -- reporting to the CEO.  He was asked to board meetings so frequently he finally was given a VP of the Corporation title to allow him to simply attend without