~ Here's chapter one! I think this story is going to turn out pretty well, but one thing is that you'll have to make allowances for the fact that Katie is a woman helping run a chain gang. I know that was improbable/impossible, but it's a creative allowance to make the story work. I am going to finish this, never fear! Couple of things you need to know -- "bosses" were the people like Katie -- the sub-people who run things. The main person in charge was the chief. If you are confused about anything, let me know, and I'll revise. This is based off an old Paul Newman movie called "Cool Hand Luke" - it's really good, Paul is hot … Enjoy! ~
"Katie, gimmi a count!" yelled one of the bosses. I opened up the chain-link door to the bunks of the prisoners and walked in. There was an immediate round of cat-calls and whistles. It was the first day any of them had seen me, and the first time any of them had seen a woman in weeks, months, years. I marched briskly down the aisle, counting in my head. I had just reached thirty-five when I felt a pinch on my rear. I spun around fast and kneed whoever it was in the balls. He doubled up and I threw a punch. He spun backwards with a shocked, "woah!" Without hesitating, I kept walking. Hearing a snicker, I looked up at thirty-seven, leaning back on his top bunk.
"What you lookin' at?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said, mildly, holding up his hands in a traditional sign of defeat, despite the slight smile playing on his lips. I raised my eyebrows and continued on. At the end, I yelled up,
"Fifty!" then returned back up front. There was dead silence on my way back. At the front, I turned.
"My name's Katie. You'll call me 'boss' like the rest of 'em. And I don't want any different treatment or respect than the rest of 'em. Understood?" I didn't wait for a response, just walked out and clanged the door shut behind me.
The fellow named Luke ran the next night. Of course: the fat boss, what's-his-name was the counter. That explained it. I was impressed, though, it took them a while to find him. He ran two dogs into the ground. They made a spectacle of it when they brought him back: "You get used to the chains after a while, but you always hear them clinking." I would vouch for that. It didn't seem to both Luke, though. He had a cool look about him, like nothing ever really got to him. Considering his nickname was Cool Hand Luke …
I watched him walk through the lunch line, grin at the boss serving, and lie down on his back, and spoon in the gruel. He was a clean-cut fellow, and it made me wonder what he was doing in a chain gang. Suddenly, he sat up.
"Hey, boss!" The five or six of us looked over. He rolled his eyes.
"Katie!" I walked over to him.
"Yeah?"
"Have a seat." I raised my eyebrows at him.
"What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you! Can't a guy make pleasant conversation?"
"Chain gang members usually aren't so talkative with bosses. Leaves me a little suspicious…"
"Be suspicious. But have a seat."
I sat down.
"So, what's a pretty chick like yourself doing managing a chain gang?" he asked.
"Seemed like an interesting profession."
"I think there's more to it than that."
"Not really."
He laughed. "I won't push it."
"You know, I could ask you the same question."
"What I'm doing here?"
"Yeah."
"Not sure, actually. Guess you could say the trial went the wrong way … I'm still maintaining I'm innocent."
"Are you maintaining innocence truthfully or are you just saying that?"
"Truthfully." Luke looked at her. The voice she used now was different from the one he'd heard her speak that first night. Her voice now was calm, cultured, enunciated. The voice she'd used the night before was rough and sharp-cut, with the southern undertone harshly pronounced. She was an attractive woman: he had no trouble seeing why the other inmates were drooling in their bunks.
"What're you lookin' at?" she asked, the accent suddenly pronounced again. He repeated his gesture of the previous night. Her body, which had suddenly stiffened, went soft again.
"So you say you're innocent. What were you supposedly 'framed' for?"
"Killing the wife of my buddy. My buddy killed his own wife."
"Your buddy?"
"Was my buddy."
"Where'd you live?"
"Scottsburg. 'Bout three miles south of here."
"Close, then. What was your buddy's name?"
"Jay Harper."
She shrugged.
What the hell was I doing here? In Scottsburg, looking up a tried and proven innocent? I frowned. There was just something about Luke that made me think he was telling the truth, despite the fact that my head was telling me I was being an idiot.
It was early Saturday morning and I was taking my day off for the week. I could use the day for more reasons than one, which was the only reason my head had let me go. I walked into a little diner. Actually, it looked like it was the only diner. A waitress came over.
"Just a beer," I said.
"This early in the morning?" she said, smiling.
"Yeah, well … I got some work to do in town today."
"'In town?' Honey, this is hardly 'in town,'" the waitress responded. "What are you after?"
"Couple things. I gotta file a report on a story I'm doing for the NY times. And I need to look up some information."
"'Bout what?"
"Well … what can you tell me about a fellow named Jay Harper?"
"Jay Harper? His wife was just killed a couple of weeks back, by a man name Luke something-or-other. The whole town knows about it! It's real sad."
"Do you know where I can some information on it?"
"Well, Jay works down at the hardware store. And Judge Michaels would be glad to let you have a look at the files, I'm sure. They're public property."
"Well, thanks," I said, with a smile. "Tell you what, I'll pass on that beer. I got some people to see."
"Hope you find what you're looking for," she said.
"Thanks."
"Katie, gimmi a count!" yelled one of the bosses. I opened up the chain-link door to the bunks of the prisoners and walked in. There was an immediate round of cat-calls and whistles. It was the first day any of them had seen me, and the first time any of them had seen a woman in weeks, months, years. I marched briskly down the aisle, counting in my head. I had just reached thirty-five when I felt a pinch on my rear. I spun around fast and kneed whoever it was in the balls. He doubled up and I threw a punch. He spun backwards with a shocked, "woah!" Without hesitating, I kept walking. Hearing a snicker, I looked up at thirty-seven, leaning back on his top bunk.
"What you lookin' at?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said, mildly, holding up his hands in a traditional sign of defeat, despite the slight smile playing on his lips. I raised my eyebrows and continued on. At the end, I yelled up,
"Fifty!" then returned back up front. There was dead silence on my way back. At the front, I turned.
"My name's Katie. You'll call me 'boss' like the rest of 'em. And I don't want any different treatment or respect than the rest of 'em. Understood?" I didn't wait for a response, just walked out and clanged the door shut behind me.
The fellow named Luke ran the next night. Of course: the fat boss, what's-his-name was the counter. That explained it. I was impressed, though, it took them a while to find him. He ran two dogs into the ground. They made a spectacle of it when they brought him back: "You get used to the chains after a while, but you always hear them clinking." I would vouch for that. It didn't seem to both Luke, though. He had a cool look about him, like nothing ever really got to him. Considering his nickname was Cool Hand Luke …
I watched him walk through the lunch line, grin at the boss serving, and lie down on his back, and spoon in the gruel. He was a clean-cut fellow, and it made me wonder what he was doing in a chain gang. Suddenly, he sat up.
"Hey, boss!" The five or six of us looked over. He rolled his eyes.
"Katie!" I walked over to him.
"Yeah?"
"Have a seat." I raised my eyebrows at him.
"What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you! Can't a guy make pleasant conversation?"
"Chain gang members usually aren't so talkative with bosses. Leaves me a little suspicious…"
"Be suspicious. But have a seat."
I sat down.
"So, what's a pretty chick like yourself doing managing a chain gang?" he asked.
"Seemed like an interesting profession."
"I think there's more to it than that."
"Not really."
He laughed. "I won't push it."
"You know, I could ask you the same question."
"What I'm doing here?"
"Yeah."
"Not sure, actually. Guess you could say the trial went the wrong way … I'm still maintaining I'm innocent."
"Are you maintaining innocence truthfully or are you just saying that?"
"Truthfully." Luke looked at her. The voice she used now was different from the one he'd heard her speak that first night. Her voice now was calm, cultured, enunciated. The voice she'd used the night before was rough and sharp-cut, with the southern undertone harshly pronounced. She was an attractive woman: he had no trouble seeing why the other inmates were drooling in their bunks.
"What're you lookin' at?" she asked, the accent suddenly pronounced again. He repeated his gesture of the previous night. Her body, which had suddenly stiffened, went soft again.
"So you say you're innocent. What were you supposedly 'framed' for?"
"Killing the wife of my buddy. My buddy killed his own wife."
"Your buddy?"
"Was my buddy."
"Where'd you live?"
"Scottsburg. 'Bout three miles south of here."
"Close, then. What was your buddy's name?"
"Jay Harper."
She shrugged.
What the hell was I doing here? In Scottsburg, looking up a tried and proven innocent? I frowned. There was just something about Luke that made me think he was telling the truth, despite the fact that my head was telling me I was being an idiot.
It was early Saturday morning and I was taking my day off for the week. I could use the day for more reasons than one, which was the only reason my head had let me go. I walked into a little diner. Actually, it looked like it was the only diner. A waitress came over.
"Just a beer," I said.
"This early in the morning?" she said, smiling.
"Yeah, well … I got some work to do in town today."
"'In town?' Honey, this is hardly 'in town,'" the waitress responded. "What are you after?"
"Couple things. I gotta file a report on a story I'm doing for the NY times. And I need to look up some information."
"'Bout what?"
"Well … what can you tell me about a fellow named Jay Harper?"
"Jay Harper? His wife was just killed a couple of weeks back, by a man name Luke something-or-other. The whole town knows about it! It's real sad."
"Do you know where I can some information on it?"
"Well, Jay works down at the hardware store. And Judge Michaels would be glad to let you have a look at the files, I'm sure. They're public property."
"Well, thanks," I said, with a smile. "Tell you what, I'll pass on that beer. I got some people to see."
"Hope you find what you're looking for," she said.
"Thanks."