Chronicles of the Knobs by Sherman S. Smith Ph.D

Author:Sherman S. Smith, Ph.D.
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781942603382
Publisher: Heritage Builders
Published: 2016-05-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY

Hands up!” Sheriff Crane ordered Lester Bishop. “Now stand over there, Homer, you watch him while I search the back storage room.”

Barry Wilmott was playing with some cherry bombs behind the Broughtontown School, which was only a half-mile or so from the Bishop Store. The explosion was heard by some of the kids playing in their yards next to the school, and Barry came running from behind the building screaming that his fingers were gone. Three of them were missing from his left hand where the quick fuse had surprised him before he could drop the explosive. Sheriff Crane and Deputy Shanks had wretched a confession out of nine-year-old Barry Wilmott that Lester Bishop had sold him the powerful firecrackers.

The Sheriff knew that Lester Bishop was selling or bootlegging firecrackers, and neither he nor Homer Shanks thought there was really any thing wrong with it, so they didn’t harass Bishop. Besides, they were both related to the Bishops through distant cousins.

Selling a little kid a cherry bomb couldn’t be overlooked, and they knew the community would be outraged. Members of the Friendship Baptist Church where the Wilmotts were members demanded that Lester Bishop’s store be shut down. Firecrackers weren’t the only thing he was bootlegging, and men of the little village’s dwellers had told the Sheriff that their kids came home drunk from the beer and redeye whiskey Bishop sold them.

“The law’s the law,” the Deputy stated as he held his .38 revolver near Bishop’s head. Bishop was protesting wildly that they couldn’t search his store because they didn’t have a warrant.

“You’ve been watching too much television,” Homer Shanks commented.

“Now shut up and don’t move, or I’ll blow your acne infested head off.”

The Sheriff found all kinds of firecrackers in the storehouse. There’s enough powder in here to blow up the whole town, he thought.

The rumors were true that Lester Bishop was bootlegging. Stacks and stacks of beer bottles were found by the Sheriff stored out of the way behind the feed and grain sacks.

“Selling firecrackers is a misdemeanor, Lester, so I’m going to give you notice to appear in court and pay a fine. The judge will decide if there is criminal activity for the loss of Barry Wilmott’s fingers.”

The Sheriff said nothing about the beer in the storeroom. Lester Bishop could have all the beer he wanted for his own use, and there was no proof that anybody had ever bought beer or whiskey from him.

“I’m taking all the cherry bombs and firecrackers,” the Sheriff said.

“You can’t do that you S.O.B.’s!” Lester screamed.

Homer Shanks towered over Bishop. “You cuss the Sheriff one more time and disrespect him again, and I’ll beat the crap out of you so badly they won’t recognize who you are.”

Lester was still screaming and cussing as the pickups pulled away completely loaded with contraband.

Homer Shanks was tall and illiterate, but he wasn’t dumb. “Sheriff, while you were searching the storeroom, Lizzie McIntyre bought some bread. When Lester opened the cash drawer, I noticed a hundred dollar bill lying on the side.

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