CHASE CHANGES SIDES
Winthrop Chase, Senior, was thoughtful all that day; he went home in the
evening still undecided as to what he should do. He was unhappy, hurt at
Wint’s reticence, disturbed as to his own course of action, and fiercely
resentful of Amos’s influence over his son.
His conscience was troubling him; and he was trying to quiet it with
Kite’s more or less specious argument that this was politics, not
morality. If Chase had been asked to come out, point-blank, and champion
the nonenforcement of the liquor law, he would have refused; and he
would have refused with indignation at the suggestion. But the issue was
not so clear as that. It was clouded by his dislike for Amos. It was not
merely a question of enforcing the law; it was a question of balking
Amos Caretall. And Chase was prepared to go a long way to put a spoke in
Amos’s wheel.
Wint had not yet come, when he reached his home; and he was glad of
that. It gave him some leeway, gave him some further time to think. But
his thoughts ran in an endless circle; his convictions countered his
enmity toward Amos. It was only by small degrees that his attitude
toward Amos crowded other considerations out of his mind. He was
gradually coming to the point of decision when he heard Wint at the
door. Mrs. Chase met Wint in the front hall, and told him hurriedly:
“Now, Wint, you’re late again. You run right upstairs and wash your face
and hands. Supper’s all ready, and Hetty wants to go out, and I don’t
want to keep her waiting any--”
Wint laughed, and kissed her, and told her he would hurry, and he was
gone up the stairs, two steps at a time, while his mother still talked
to him. When he came down, his father and mother had already gone into
the dining room. He followed them, answered his father’s “Good evening,
Wint,” in an abstracted way, and sat down hurriedly. He did not look
toward his father; he was conscious he had not done the fair thing in
failing to tell the older man of his orders to Radabaugh. He felt
guilty.
Mrs. Chase never allowed any gaps in the conversation to go unplugged;
and since Wint and his father were both normal men, with normal
appetites, she did most of the talking during the early part of the
meal, while they ate. It was only when Hetty brought on a thick rhubarb
pie and Mrs. Chase began to cut it that Chase said casually to his son:
“Well, Wint, I hear you’ve set out to clean up Hardiston.”
Wint gulped what was in his mouth, and uneasily admitted that this was
true. Mrs. Chase was talking to Hetty about the pie and did not hear
what they said. Chase asked:
“What does Amos think of that?”
Wint looked for an instant at his father. “Thinks it’s all right,” he
said.
Mrs. Chase came back into the conversation then. She had the aggravating
habit of catching the tail end of a story or a remark and demanding that
the whole be repeated for her benefit. “What’s all right?” she asked.
“What’s all right, Wint? Who thinks it’s all right? It keeps me so busy
looking after things here that it seems like I never hear what’s going
on. What is it that--”
Chase told her quietly: “Wint has given Marshal Radabaugh orders not to
allow any more selling of liquor in Hardiston.”
Mrs. Chase was astonished. She said so. “Well, I never,” she exclaimed.
“You know, Wint, I never thought you’d do that. I think it’s time,
though, something was done. I told Mrs. Hullis ... I was saying to Mrs.
Hullis here only yesterday that it was a shame, the way men were getting
drunk. That Ote Runns, that beats my carpets, came here yesterday to do
some work for me, and I paid him; and Mrs. Hullis saw him coming home
from town that afternoon, and he couldn’t even stay on the sidewalk, he
was staggering so. I declare, it makes you feel like not paying a man
like that for working for you, when he can go right off and spend his
money on whisky, and his wife and children at home--”
Wint said, with a glance at his father: “Ote’s not married, mother. He
hasn’t any wife; and as far as I know, he hasn’t any children.”
“Well, suppose he had,” she demanded, “wouldn’t it be just the same? I
declare, Wint, you’re always contradicting me. But I said to Mrs. Hullis
I thought it was a shame, and she said she thought so too, and it is.
You’ve done just right, Wint. I didn’t think anybody could ever do that,
or I’d have told you to do it before. I didn’t know the Mayor had the
say of that, Wint. I thought the Mayor was the man you went to when your
dogs got into the pound. I remember Mrs. Hullis’s dog got taken to the
pound, three years ago, and she went to Mayor Johnson, he was then, and
he got him out for her. And I told her--”
Wint had been watching his father. He had expected the older man to be
proud of him, and had rather dreaded this pride. He had prepared himself
to disclaim any praise that might come. But--Chase was not offering to
praise him. There was no pride in his father’s face; there was rather an
uneasy regret, and it fired the antagonism in Wint, and made him feel
like defending himself. He asked, interrupting Mrs. Chase, whether the
elder Chase thought the orders should be enforced.
“I suppose so,” Chase said, and Mrs. Chase lapsed into a momentary
silence, pouring fresh tea into her cup.
“Don’t you think it’s a good thing?” Wint demanded challengingly. “Don’t
you--aren’t you glad?”
Mrs. Chase said: “Of course it’s a good thing. It ought to have been
done long ago. It’s a shame, the way things have been going on in
this--”
Chase said to her: “Ordinarily, mother, I would think it a good thing.
But in this case, it’s a part of Amos Caretall’s political game. A part
of his--”
Wint looked at his father sharply, a word leaping to his lips. Mrs.
Chase asked: “Congressman Caretall? Is he back here again, after the way
he treated you? Wint, I should think you’d be ashamed to do anything to
help him, after what he did to your father. I should think--”
Wint said quickly: “He has nothing to do with this. I decided to do it,
and I gave the order, and I’m going through with it. Congressman
Caretall isn’t in this at all.”
The elder Chase smiled and said: “You don’t understand, Wint. I’ve known
him longer. He’s absolutely without principle or scruple. You know, for
instance, that he’s a wet man; but he’s doing this for his own ends,
using you--”
Wint protested: “He’s not doing this. I’m doing it.”
Mrs. Chase cried: “I should think you’d be ashamed, Wint, to do anything
against your own father. He’s been a good father to you, Wint. You know
he--”
Wint cut in, almost pleading: “But, mother, you said yourself this was a
good thing. To clean up Hardiston. And father’s always been in favor of
it.”
“That was before I understood that Congressman Caretall was doing it to
hurt your father. I don’t think anything is good that hurts your father,
Wint. You ought not to say that. You know I--”
“But he’s not doing it to hurt dad, mother. I told you that. I’m doing
it myself; he’s not doing it at all.”
“Your father understands these things better than you, Wint. Didn’t he
tell you Congressman Caretall was just using you? I shouldn’t think
you’d be willing to--”
The elder Chase said uneasily: “I know him better than you, Wint.”
Wint pushed back his chair and looked steadily at the older man. “You
talk like V. R. Kite, dad,” he said.
Chase confessed his guilt by the vehemence of his protestations. “That’s
not so, Wint. And in any case, Kite is an honest man compared to
Caretall. He plays square with his friends, at least. That’s more than
Amos can say.”
Wint asked: “What makes you think Amos is playing crooked now? Not that
he has anything to do with this....”
“I know him. He’s always crooked. A crooked, double-crossing
politician.”
“I’m not defending Amos,” Wint said stubbornly. “He’s treated you badly.
But he’s been decent to me. I’ll not turn against him. And anyway, this
is my doing, my business. He’s not in it at all.”
“You said he was backing you.”
“I said he thought I was doing a good thing. I expected you to think
that, too.”
Chase flushed uncomfortably. “Ordinarily, I would say so. If you’d done
this without prompting from him, I would say so. But it’s significant
that you didn’t; that you waited till he came home, and talked to you,
and then gave your orders.”
“I’d been thinking about it for a long time.”
“But you didn’t act without word from him, Wint. That’s why I--regret
it.”
Wint asked harshly: “Listen! Do I get this straight? You’d have me let
them go on selling whisky in Hardiston just for fear I am helping Amos
by stopping them?”
“I don’t like to see you letting Amos use you.”
“Aside from that, isn’t it a good thing to clean up the town, no matter
what the motive?”
“You’ll find in your law books somewhere the statement that the motive
determines the deed,” Chase told him.
“Don’t you think it important to clean up Hardiston?”
“I think it important not to cement Amos Caretall’s hold on this county,
and this town.”
Wint said angrily: “Forget Amos. Forget he exists. I’m asking a flat
question. Why don’t you answer it?”
Mrs. Chase interposed: “Don’t you talk to your father so, Wint. Don’t
you do it. He knows best what’s good for you, and for Hardiston, and for
everybody. You know he--”
“Is whisky good for Ote Runns?” Wint demanded.
“Well, I guess it doesn’t do him any hurt. It’s not as if he had a wife
and children, Wint, you know. You ought to do what your father says.
He--”
Wint faced the older man. “Well,” he asked, “what is it you say I should
do, dad? In plain language. Just what do you claim I ought to do?”
“Refuse to let Amos Caretall make you his tool,” Chase said steadily.
“Let Hardiston wallow in booze?”
“That’s beside the point. Amos is the point.”
Wint got up swiftly. “Amos is not the point,” he said. “Hardiston’s the
point. Hardiston’s the point, and I’m the point, too. If whisky is good
for Hardiston, the town ought to have it. If lawbreaking is good for
Hardiston, the lawbreaking ought to be permitted to go on. But if it’s
right and decent to keep the law, then I’m right. And if it’s right to
leave booze alone, then I’m right. And if I think what I’m doing is
right, I ought to go on with it; and if I think it’s wrong, I ought to
drop it. Amos has nothing to do with it. Anyway, a bad man doing good
things is a good man. If Amos were doing this, the fact that he’s a
crook wouldn’t make it crooked. The whole thing works the other way. If
Amos is doing this, and it’s a good thing to do, then so far as this is
concerned, Amos is a good man.”
He flung up his hand. “I don’t mean to hurt you, dad. I think you’re
wrong on this. I can’t believe you want me to back down.”
Chase had his share of stubbornness, of the pride which had been a
pitfall before Wint’s feet. He was too stubborn to admit himself in the
wrong. He said swiftly:
“I do want you to back down. Call off Radabaugh. Tell Amos he can’t make
a monkey out of you. Can’t get you to pull his chestnuts out of the
fire.... Stand on your own feet. That’s what I advise you to do, Wint.”
Wint looked his father in the eye for a moment; then he shook his head
as though to brush away a veil. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I mean to fight
it out on this line. Stick to it.”
Chase said nothing. Mrs. Chase, silenced by the tension in the
atmosphere, looked from father to son with wide eyes, and she was
trembling. After a little, Wint asked gently:
“Does this mean--a break, father? Does it mean for me to get out of
here?”
Chase got to his feet in swift protest. “No, no, Wint, not that.” For a
moment, he had an overpowering impulse to open his heart, promise Wint
his support, offer the boy his hand. But he could not bring himself to
do it. The stubborn, prideful streak was strong in him. He fought down
the impulse, said simply: “We can disagree without fighting, I guess.
That’s all.”
“You mean we’re on opposite sides of the fence in this, dad? You really
mean that?”
“Yes.”
Wint’s voice was wistful. “I--counted on you.”
Chase flung toward the door. “I can’t help it, Wint,” he said harshly.
“I can’t link up with Amos Caretall. Not for any man.”
When the door shut behind him, Wint stood still for a little, thinking
hard. Then his mother touched his arm, and he looked down and saw that
she was crying with fright.
“Wint,” she pleaded, “don’t you go quarreling with your father again.
Don’t you, Wint. Please.... He couldn’t stand it. Not again, Wint. I
told Mrs. Hullis when you were gone before--”
He put his arm around her affectionately; and he smiled. “There, mother,
it’s all right,” he said. “Dad and I are all right. Don’t you worry. We
understand each other.”
“I told Mrs. Hullis he couldn’t stand it to have you go away again--”
“I’m not going away,” Wint promised.
“Don’t you....” she begged. “Don’t you go, any more.”