A TALE ABOUT BOOTLEGGING
By: Wm. Axley Allen
Published in August, 1983

It had sounded like a simple enough task when the sheriff had explained it to them but the boys were finding it to be a little more complicated than they had been led to believe. The sheriff had told them all they had to do was catch Ben Perkins making liquor. That sounded easy enough ‘cause everybody knew old Ben bootlegged. It weren’t like he tried to hide it, why, he’d done everything ‘cept advertise in the local paper. According to the sheriff, all they had to do was find him, handcuff him and bring him in. And tear up his still, of course.

When Ike and Clem had approached the sheriff about jobs as deputies, he’d looked them over with a grin and said, “I appreciate men who try to get ahead in life and I’d hire you boys in a minute but what with y’all having no experience or nothing, my hands are tied. But if you’ll take on this special assignment without pay, just to get experience mind you, I’ll go ahead and deputize you both and just as soon as you’ve caught old Ben, why you’ll be experienced and I can put you both on the payroll as fully fledged deputies.” By the time he’d explained it to the boys, they were “chomping at the bit” to get started on old Ben’s trail. Figuring to themselves that they’d be full fledged deputies on the county payroll within a week. They thanked the sheriff for the opportunity saying it suited them fine and they’d be back tomorrow or the next day with old Ben. Then they raced out of the sheriff’s office heading toward Ben Perkins’ place.

They were no more’n out the door till the sheriff was laying on the floor, on his back with his knees held up to his chest by his arms and laughing. Not just an ordinary laugh but a once in a lifetime, laughing fit. What he hadn’t told Isaac and Clement Sutphin was that old Ben didn’t hide the fact that he made liquor ‘cause he figured he was tougher and smarter than all the revenuers alive and so far, he’d been right.

The sheriff had spent two months and a nervous breakdown trying to catch old Ben right after he was elected and he’d finally decided old Ben wasn’t worth the trouble of catching. Actually, he’d decided to quit if he had to keep trying to catch old Ben but the board of supervisors had promised he wouldn’t have to go after old Ben anymore if he’d only finish out his term. (The supervisors were getting “fed up” by having to find a new sheriff every six months. The last three couldn’t handle old Ben any better’n this one could so the board decided to leave old Ben alone if he’d leave their sheriff alone.) He’d agreed to staying on as sheriff and that had been a little over a year ago. Now don’t get the idea that the sheriff wasn’t capable as a lawman. He’d caught murderers, armed robbers, even mobsters, when he’d worked in the state capital for the state police, but old Ben Perkins had made ordinary criminals look like a ladies social club. That old man was mean and tough and determined not to let no two-bit sheriff interrupt his bootleg business. After his encounters with old Ben, the sheriff was more than happy to leave the old man alone. The more he thought about Ike and Clem catching Ben Perkins, the harder he had laughed. One thing for sure, he thought, by the time they catch old Ben, they’ll be experienced. Just the thought had brought on a whole new fit of uncontrolled laughter.

Well, all that was history now as Ike and Clem sat contemplating the capture of their elusive quarry, old Ben Perkins. The sheriff had no more’n got over his laughing fit till old Ben had filled both the boy’s britches with buckshot. They immediately high tailed it back to the sheriff’s office to round up a posse. The sheriff seemed down right indignant saying, “Who does that Ben Perkins think he is, shooting men of the law?” He’d told the boys to have a seat (which they hastily declined) and make themselves to home while he went over to the magistrate’s office.

He had returned in a few minutes with a warrant for the arrest of Ben Perkins. He had waved the warrant in the air and said, “We’ll show him not to mess with lawmen!” Then, to the boys dismay, he had handed the warrant to Ike and told him and Clem to get old Ben and haul him in so that justice could be done.

That was three weeks ago and old Ben weren’t no closer to the jail now then he ever was. The boys had tried everything they could think of to catch old Ben but trouble was, old Ben had thought of it first. These last few weeks had been awfully hard on Ike and Clem. They had been shot with buckshot, scalded with boiling mash, nearly killed by a rock slide and now, for the last three days and nights, every time they’d stuck their heads up over the rock they were hiding behind, old Ben had been there to take a shot at it.

Finally, Ike said to Clem, “Clem, do you really want to be a deputy?”

“Not like this I don’t, Ike,” came Clem’s reply. “Right now all I want to do is live long enough to eat a bowl of Mama’s pinto beans with some fresh cut onions and a chunk of hot cornbread,” he continued.

“I thought we agreed yesterday not to talk about food,” said Ike.

“I know, Ike, and I’m sorry,” said Clem, “but I ain’t never been this hungry before.”

“That’s OK, Clem. I’m hungry too,” said Ike. “But we’ve got to figure a way to get outta here. That old man is mean, Clem. He’s dangerous as a cocked pistol. He’s smart too; smart and sneaky. What kind of man would dump hot mash on a fellow human being?”

“A mad-dog mean one,” answered Clem as he looked at the blisters covering his arms. “He has to be to rig up a trap like that sapling with a bucket of hot mash tied to it. I didn’t know what happened when we first tripped that wire trigger he had rigged up across the path, the next thing I knew, a sapling with a bucket tied to it was dumping hot corn mash all over us. I tell you Ike, that old man is dangerous and mean to the core.”

“We already know that, Clem, but right now we got to figure out how to get out of this fix we’re in,” said Ike.

Ike had no more’n got those words out of his mouth when another shot rang over their heads. The boys both involuntarily ducked even though the bullet was well over their heads.

“You know what I wish, Clem?” said Ike. “I wish the sheriff was here right now so’s we could send him out there to get that old man off us. You know, come to think about it, that old man hadn’t ever bothered us till that no account sheriff got us to chasing him.”

“Yea,” said Clem, “That old man probably ain’t all bad. He just don’t like to be bothered. I tell you what, Ike. Let’s raise a white flag and see if he’ll let us go if we promise not to bother him anymore.”

“Sounds like a better idea than sitting here starving to death.” agreed Ike. “Besides,” he continued, “we ain’t even getting paid for being treated this way. We was better off not working for the sawmill and not getting paid. At least we weren’t getting shot at. But the sheriff was right about one thing, Clem. We’re getting experience. Taught me never to pay any attention to that sheriff any more.”

“Me too,” said Clem. “Say, can you reach that stick over there, Ike? If you can, we can tie my handkerchief to it and make us a white flag. Maybe the old coot will let us give up and go home.”

No sooner had the boys raised their make-shift white flag than another bullet whined low overhead. They tried shooting back, then begging, then begging and praying and promising to never bother old Ben again as long as they lived if only he’d quit shooting long enough for them to leave.

After spending half a day waving their flag and pleading, they were both to the point of giving up all hope. Their white flag was propped over the edge of the rock they were hiding behind and they were both laying down wishing the sheriff was close enough to reach. They nearly came out of their skins when the voice of old Ben Perkins, not ten feet away said, “I’ll have your weapons boys. But mind you, don’t be quick in handing ‘em over or I might think you ain’t sincere and have to shoot you.”

Well, you never seen two boys hand over their guns any slower and get it done so quick as Ike and Clem did.

Soon as old Ben had collected their guns, he told ‘em to get up and using his rifle barrel as a prod, he herded them up the mountainside. They hadn’t walked over 50 feet when a bullet whined low overhead. The boys ducked and old Ben laughed and told ‘em to keep going, that he was going to introduce ’em to the fellow that had kept ‘em pinned so long. Ben herded them up the mountainside another fifty feet or so and there, in the windbreak of a big rock was a candle that was at least a foot tall and judging by the mound of the melted wax around its base, the candle must have started out being at least waist high. Old Ben pointed at it and said, Boys, do you see those dark spots in that candle wax? Them’s bullets and them bullets and that old candle been keeping ya’ll pinned down for me. Every so often the wick burns down to another bullet and you boys got shot at again. Weren’t no way for me to be at my still working and here baby sitting you two too, so I asked ‘Mr. Candle’ to keep an eye on you for me.”

And then he laughed and he laughed and he laughed and he laughed some more. Then he got serious. He looked the boys in the eye till they shivered, then he said, “I got some questions for you boys and I ain’t got time or patience so either I get some quick answers real fast or your luck’s gonna change real fast and so far it’s been good! Do you boys understand me?” They both nodded yes.

“OK,” said Ben, “Why you boys been pestering me so much lately?”

Ike spoke up and explained how him and Clem had been looking for a job and he told Ben about the sheriff’s offer to hire them when they brought him in. Ben kinda chuckled to himself and then he explained to the boys how the sheriff had played them for fools.

Well, needless to say, the boys were mad at the sheriff and all set to get even. But they didn’t know how. Old Ben did and he allowed to the boys that ‘fore he was through, the sheriff wouldn’t ever bother him again. Of course the boys agreed to help.

The Sheriff almost had a heart attack when he walked into his office and saw old Ben Perkins sitting there between Ike and Clem Sutphin. He figured by now the boys would have give up on trying to catch Ben. It’d been nearly a month since they had come by the office looking for jobs and he had sent ‘em off after old Ben. He figured for sure that Ben would have sent them packing in a day or two, anyway.

But here they sat, with old Ben between ‘em and him acting as meek as a lamb. This sure wasn’t the Ben Perkins he’d tried to catch or at least wasn’t acting the same.

Ike was the first to speak up, “Well, we got ‘em, Sheriff. You want us to go ahead and lock ‘em up, beings we deputies now? You O.K. Sheriff?” he asked. The Sheriff didn’t answer him right away. After several more minutes of standing with his mouth dropped open, the Sheriff managed to nod yes and pitch them the keys to the jail's only cell. The boys led old Ben over to the cell, opened the door and asked him to step inside. Ben didn’t even pause, just did what he was told. The Sheriff still couldn’t believe his eyes. It looked like Ben Perkins but the Ben Perkins he knew would have been harder to get in a jail cell than a bobcat would’ve been to put in your shirt pocket. The Sheriff just couldn’t believe his eyes.

Clem was the next one to speak up and he told the Sheriff that catching old Ben was tiring work and he ‘lowed as how him and Ike were going to take a few days off ‘fore they “settled into deputying” full time.

“Yea,” agreed Ike, “We’re going over on Big Reed and try to catch the world’s biggest catfish.”

They Sheriff thought to himself that they better take a wagon and team with them if their luck at catfishing was anything like their luck at catching bootleggers.

Before he said a word, the boys were both heading toward the door. Then he realized that if they left, he’d be alone with Ben Perkins and locked cell or not, he didn’t want to be by himself with old Ben a minute. “Wait,” he hollered after the boys, “You can’t leave, you’ll have to stay here and testify before the judge.”

Clem said, “I almost forgot to give you this.” He reached into his bib overalls and pulled out a piece of neatly folded paper and handed it to the Sheriff. “That there’s Ben’s confession, signed and sealed. You won’t need us to testify.” Then before the Sheriff had time to open his mouth, Ike and Clem had opened the door and left. The Sheriff just stood there staring at the paper as if he was in a trance. Finally, Ben said, “Them’s good boys, Sheriff. You lucky to find that kind of help.” At the sound of Ben’s voice, the Sheriff jumped straight in the air and landed with his back against the door and his hands held up in front of his face.

“Calm yourself down, Sheriff,” said Ben. “You got me fair and square and I’m just gonna settle back and enjoy a little time off. The Missus got it in her head awhile back that she wanted to go to Paris, France and I ain’t had a minutes peace since. She’s up ‘fore daylight every morning, firing up my still and if I quit work ‘fore dark, she’s let it be known I better have good reason. Now don’t get me wrong, Sheriff. She’s a good woman but when she sets her head to something, there ain’t no turning her back. Yes sir, I’m sure looking forward to a nice quiet stay in your jail.” Old Ben then proceeded to fluff up his pillow and lay back on his cot to take a nap.

Just as the Sheriff was starting to peel his backside off the door, Old Ben spoke up and said, “By the way Sheriff, what time you serve supper? You won’t mind waking me up will you?”

At the sound of Ben’s voice, the Sheriff jerked back against the door again. Finally, after 15 or 20 minutes, he calmed down enough to answer old Ben but by then, Ben was snoring loudly.

By the end of the second day, the Sheriff had gotten to the point that he barely jumped when old Ben spoke, but he still used the broom handle to push old Ben’s tray up to his cell. By now word was all over town that he’d caught Ben Perkins and had him locked up in the county jailhouse. He’d become a local hero of sorts and there was even some talk of him running for mayor. The Ladies Social Club had even nominated him for “Man of the Year”. The Sheriff wasn’t necessarily a vain man, but his humbleness stopped just short of telling folks it was Ike and Clem Sutphin that had really caught old Ben. So, by the second morning, he was basking in a hero’s glory, among the breakfast crowd at Clyde’s Café. One thing led to another till finally he had been “forced” to explain how he heroically captured old Ben single-handedly. Just as the “Ohs” and “Ahs” were dying down, the front door of the café burst open and in walked a skinny little gray-haired lady that couldn’t have been over 5 feet tall or under 65 years old. It didn’t take a detective to tell she was ill about something. She made her way straight for the Sheriff. The thong of her admirers parted before her and the Sheriff couldn’t help but think of Moses parting the Waters.

She came to a halt when her nose was no more’n an inch from the Sheriff’s. With one hand on the back of his chair and one hand resting on his table, she looked him straight in the eye and said, “I didn’t come here to jaw with you, Sonny, so I’ll get straight to the point. You got my man locked in that jail over there and that’s messing up my plans. She proceeded to pour his fresh cup of scalding hot coffee straight into his lap. Well, the Sheriff came up out of his chair like he was jet propelled and after his agonizing screams had died down so he could hear her, she looked at him again and said, “Ben better be home for supper.” Then she turned and walked out.

After a trip by Doc Johnson’s for some ointment salve, the Sheriff took Ben his breakfast. He carried the tray right up to the cell and handed it to Ben this morning without using the broom handle. Then he headed straight for the back room where he changed pants. When he came back out into the main room, Ben said, “I heard you screaming. Matildee’s got a mean streak when she’s riled. She done me that way once years ago and I still don’t like coffee. She’s a good woman, but I can tell you, Sheriff, she’s a little bit headstrong.”

While Ben was taking to life as a jailbird like he’d been born with feathers, the Sheriff spent the morning in agony. By mid-afternoon, however, he was thinking mad! Who did she think she was, coming in Clyde’s acting like that and treating him that way? Didn’t she realize he was the Sheriff and a hero besides. He’d show her. He’d keep Ben Perkins locked up so long there wouldn’t be a Paris, France when he got out!

After feeding Ben his supper, he headed home about seven o’clock. First thing he noticed when he pulled in his driveway was that his barn was gone, so was his front porch and his pasture fence looked like a bulldozer had straddled it leaving 10 acres of fencing laying flat on the ground and 15 yearling steers munching their way through his neighbors garden. It took him most of the night to round up his steers and get them into another neighbors pasture. He could hear roosters crowing as he made his way over the rubble that had been his porch, to the front door. There on the door was a note that read, “Ben better be home in time for the noon meal.”

Ben was hungry by the time the Sheriff got his breakfast over to him and he listened in dismay as the Sheriff recounted the events of the night before. When the Sheriff had finished telling Ben what all had happened he said, “Ben, I been thinking maybe I ought to try to get you home for lunch.”

“Now, Sheriff,” said Ben, “I’m caught fair and square and you got to do your duty. You can’t turn a criminal loose on the streets. You got your sworn duty to uphold. ‘Sides, if you took me home, Matildee would work me to death to get her enough money to go gallivanting half way around the world. Course if I was to live through it, she’d drag me along and I’m happy right where I am. No siree, Sheriff, you can’t turn me loose. You got to do your duty. ‘Sides, I ain’t gonna pay that much money to go nowhere. Matildee or not!”

The Sheriff tried to reason with Ben but to no avail as the clock hands moved toward noon, his hands started to shake and sweat. Finally he just sat in silence and stared at the hands of the clock. Ben took a nap.

Ben woke up about 1:00 and started right into asking for his lunch. By 1:30, he was demanding it so the Sheriff convinced himself that Matildee had figured he couldn’t be bluffed and headed over to Clyde’s to get Ben some lunch. It was 5:15 when he finally returned. His uniform was covered with a substance that looked like soot and so was his face. Only his eyes were not black but they were red like he’d been crying.

First thing Ben said was, “I heard the blast go off. I’ve told Matildee time and again she’s gonna get hurt messing with dynamite.”

The Sheriff didn’t say a word. He just walked across the room to the peg where the cell key hung. He got the key and headed straight for the cell door.

“Now hold on here, Sheriff,” said Ben, “I got my rights as a criminal to stand trial and you can’t go letting me loose.”

The Sheriff didn’t say a word, he just unlocked the cell door and grabbed Ben by the shirt collar. He dragged him to the front door with Ben grabbing on to anything he could reach to keep from being thrown out of jail. The Sheriff moved like a man possessed.

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