A houseboat. Finegan Fine

new coop like its home after a day er so. . .

They free range, just let ‘em out in the

morning and call ‘em back at night.

She says,

Big as the house, but the hen’s er all gone now

since Earl passed. He did the chickens en all.

. . We got no feed, used corn during Earl’s

day.

Matilda is walking away, smiling to herself. Finegan is again standing

in amazement that a young girl is apparently in the running in a

campaign, and taken seriously. He says, under his breath,

But she’s a girl!

The toolman looks up, surprised at Finegan’s reaction,

Matilda? She’s the only one gets folks to work

together. You otta see ‘er move a crowd from

somethin plain stupid to summit that’ll work.

My Mary says she’s the jell that makes the

jelly set.

117

He glances over and sees that Finegan is still agape with shock.

Put a bag over your head then so’s you don’t

notice that she’s a girl, and a young’un at

that. . . We got too many a problem to be stuck

in the old ways.

______________________________

The crowd of about 100 people is coming up to the barbeque to be

served. Each has a plate in hand, with some sliced tomatoes and a piece

of homemade bread, ready for a slab of barbecued pig. One of the men

who arrived with Matilda is slicing pork on a board next to the

roasting pig, which is now missing parts of its belly and hindquarters.

A semi-circle of various chairs or overturned boxes has been assembled

at the side of the barbeque, with the wagon Matilda brought stationed

in the center of the semi-circle as a platform.

A man with a clipboard is wandering through the crowd, checking off

names and handing out small paper ballots. The official approaches

Finegan and Joey, who are in line for barbeque. He scans his list, then

looks up at Finegan.

New to the area? Where you staying?

Finegan points over the hill and says,

We’re just passing through. On that houseboat

over yonder.

Joey asks,

Does that mean we can’t get something to eat?

The official smiles and winks at Joey.

I recon you’re future voters, if you decide to

stay, and that there is for everyone. That’s

Matilda’s stand. Them that has plenty, shares.

Helping hand and all.

The official wanders off down the line. Joey looks up at Finegan.

One guess who he’s gonna vote for.

______________________________

A tall, muscular man is standing on the wagon addressing the crowd. He

is wearing suit pants and a vest, with a long sleeved white shirt on

under the vest, rolled up at the sleeves. He is wearing a tie, but this

has been loosened at the neck, his shirt collar open a bit as the day

has gotten warm. He is showing a 5 o’clock shadow. From a distance one

can hear his pitch.

. . build roads . .

118

The crowd seems lukewarm, only a half dozen furiously applauding. The

first candidate nods and takes a slight bow, and then steps off the

wagon.

The second candidate is a stocky woman in a voluminous dress. Her hair

has been piled on top of her head and she is bedecked with costume

jewelry. Rings are stuffed over her plump fingers. She is helped up

onto the wagon by a couple backers who stand under her ample buttocks

as she heaves herself up the step. She straightens up and clears her

throat.

The rule of law must be our first concern.

There are simply no guidelines. I’ve taken the

initiative of drawing up statutes that give

clear guidelines.

A handful of people in the crowd stomp their feet and whistle loudly at

this point, as she unfurls a roll of paper she has brought with her and

proceeds to read off her proposed statues.

Finegan and Joey are sitting side by side in the back of the crowd.

Finegan is still trying to get his head around the idea that a little

girl could be in the competition.

Her father ran a pig farm, and they all escaped

when the troubles hit. Ran off into the swamp.

. . Well they go wild after a time. But she got

‘em back, is breeding ‘em tame again. . . OK,

so she’s got guts, I’ll give her that. . .

Finegan is shaking his head, muttering to himself. Joey says,

I watched her. . . It’s not what she says. It’s

what she gets other people to do. . . I dunno.

. . I dunno, but they’re fretting and fussing.