Chapter 14: Konowa (Kon uh WAH’)
As Otharine had said, she came to bring Leo to the nearest population center for public display. This time, she did not ride her big sorrel, but led him while she sat on a golden palomino of equal size. Both horses were snorting and breathing heavily.
She dismounted and handed the palomino’s shiny black reins to Leo. “This time,” she said, “you’re getting a worthy mount. He may not be as fast as Old Red, but he’s the best damned looking horse in the county.” Certainly, Leo thought, he’s one of the best dressed horses anyway. The saddlery was all black, studded with silver orbs and silver buckles. The horse’s extra-long, uncut, mane and tale had been brushed to a sheen comparable to any movie star’s platinum blonde. Even the horse’s hooves had been blackened and polished, like dancing shoes.
“Don’t worry about him running off with you, I rode him hard over here and he’s too damned tired to give you any trouble on the way to Konowa.” Otharine said.
Her second gift was a wide-brimmed hat, much like her own, but new. As Leo put it on, he could see that Otharine intended for Leo to make as big an impression as possible on the townspeople – perhaps for his sake, but certainly for hers. “We can pick up a new suit, too,” She said. Leo declined the suit, but was glad to get the hat, having already experienced the Oklahoma sun in burn mode.
The saddle was not as onerous as he had dreaded, but Leo was glad that Otharine, again, took the palomino’s reins and led Leo behind her big horse. She explained, “I’ll lead you until we get close and your mount gets even more tired, but after that, you’re going to have to hold the reins and act like you know how to ride.”
She went on, “There’s a long historical association of leadership with horsemanship. That’s why you nearly always see statues of famous generals mounted on horses, whether they ever rode or not. If you look back over your presidents and presidential aspirants, you’ll find a lot of horsemen. Those that rode always did it as publicly as possible, too. The cameras rolled when they rode, and they took part in as many parades as they could, always on horseback. I guess it was partly because the horseman is taller than the pedestrian, but it’s also a symbol of mastery. If a man masters his horse, then he can master more, I guess.”
Then she turned to what had been on her mind since she first heard that a commissioner might be coming, “Have you given any more thought to what you’d like to see happen in this area?” She wanted Leo, no doubt, and she wanted him to buttress her own power. She wanted him to endorse what she had already done, and, possibly, extend her efforts over a wider section of geography.
In truth, Leo hadn’t thought about the ins and outs of governing the area in the slightest, but he saw no reason to share that with Otharine. Instead, he asked her, “You’ve been thinking about it for a long while, what do you think needs to be done?”
Otharine drew in her breath. “It goes without saying that you can’t make any exceptions for mister fancy-schmancy Doctor Johns, just because he has friends in high places. You need to come out strong for the moratorium and put the fear of the lord into anybody who might think about breaking it. People have to know that a new day has come and that means putting the old days behind us forever. I don’t think my, our, regulators should have to spend their time chasing after every noise and rumor that people are trying to use energy.
‘Second, after that, I think you need to start putting some officials in place. I can work up a list of positions as well as a slate of nominees. Of course, you’d be making the decisions, after interviewing people and checking around. I don’t mean to pressure you, but the truth is that this area, outlying as it is, could be important, if for no other reason than because we could produce a lot more food than we’re producing now. I don’t know how many places are left that are virtually untouched by the radiation and destruction, but I’ll bet there aren’t enough. People around here, too, could show the rest of the country quite a bit about how to survive without the amenities that the rest of the world grew soft and used to.
‘For the most part, we never had much in the way of amenities. There are lots of people around here who grew up with no transportation but shoe leather. Some of them barely had a one-way TV, much less video interaction or any of the newer technology. We have people here, lots of people, that can make a fire without matches or can kill a steer and cure the meat, start to finish, with only their knives and hands. You take what you’re doing right now, learning to ride a horse. How many of your anti-energy leaders can ride a horse now that they really need to know? Those are forgotten skills in a lot of the world. We just need to become part of the process, and we can add our resources and abilities into the common good.
‘Right now, and I’m sure you’ve already noted this, folks are either longing for the past or just walking in circles trying to figure out what to do. They weren’t part of the struggles, and they don’t understand the issues. Except for a few of us, people around here don’t even know the extent of the damage done under the old rule, and they have even less of an idea what to do next.
‘You have it in your power to put all that straight. With a firm hand and a little thinking, you can make Southeastern Oklahoma, or the whole state, into a model of revolutionary progress. Needless to say, the regulators can help you, but all we’ve been able to do so far is impose a rough sort of order on a limited territory. Representing the whole revolution, and especially as prominent a figure as you are, you have a limitless opportunity.
Leo was silent as the miles slowly passed behind them and the hot sun rose to taunt their faces. As the township began to appear, Leo asked for the reins to his horse. Otharine gave him quick directions for turning, stopping, and urging his mount to greater effort with his heels and the ends of the long reins, used as a riding crop. Fortunately for Leo, the palomino had fallen into the habit of following Otharine’s red mount, so he didn’t really have to do anything. It was fortunate, also, for Otharine, he realized as the first onlookers came into view, because no matter how prominent she may have made him appear on this showy horse, the townspeople would see him as distinctly behind her.
They had been spotted, and the marching bands were alerted. As the horses approached, four long limbed young girls in tiny spangly outfits swung into the street. They wore white, tassled boots, and stepped high while twirling their shiny batons. Behind them came an overdressed drum major with a shrill whistle. Leo could feel his horse shudder as the brass band began its participation. First the band, then Otharine and Leo, then another band behind. Wagonloads of brightly dressed children would bring up the rear. Altogether, Leo estimated, there weren’t more than 100 people actually in the parade and, from the looks of it, not many more hundreds there to watch. The bands made up for the size of the parade with their noise, which was almost deafening for the two riders caught in the middle.
The onlookers were a passive group. Leo looked into their faces but could read no messages. Many of them sat in lawn chairs, others stood idly. Most of the men wore wide-brimmed hats of one sort or another. Women either wore similar hats or old-fashioned cloth bonnets. Many of them waved paper fans in attempts to stir some air around their sweating faces. No one seemed particularly happy; no one seemed particularly sad. No one, except for the children who popped out everywhere and were moving along with the parade, seemed particularly interested. But behind them, posted at even intervals on both sides of the street, attempting to seem unobtrusive, Leo could see Otharine’s armed cavalrymen watching the crowd as much as they were watching the parade.
Otharine brought her horses’s reins up tight, gave commands, and used her spurs to put her horse into a dancing gait. It was a way of strutting for the parade, a way of demonstrating her mastery of the horse and a way to look good. Leo’s horse, just behind the sorrel, perked up a bit because of nervousness. Leo drew the reins a little tighter, in case. He realized with a certain relief that he was going to be able to make it through this ordeal the way that Otharine had planned. But then, he made another decision. Leo dismounted.
Pulling the palomino behind him, Leo then walked to the nearest people and extended his hand. An old lady in a sun bonnet took it, and rewarded Leo with the first faint smile he had seen in the crowd. Then Leo began to “work the crowd” from one side of the street to the other, shaking hands briefly and mumbling courtesies, and pretending to admire the children. The first band continued forward, the drum major in the rear had to stop his band’s march while they continued playing. Otharine Jones, in all her equestrian glory, could only ride her strutting horse back and forth from one side of the street to the other, while regally eyeing the crowd, as if to make sure that order prevailed in light of some imagined threat.
Leo was fully enjoying himself. Although his adult life had been completely political, he had never “played politician” before in the ways that he had seen others do it. He couldn’t say for sure whether he liked these lined-up taciturn people, but he certainly liked them better eye-to-eye than he had when he was passing them on horseback! He had to admit to himself, too, a certain amount of self-gratification in that he had apparently disrupted Otharine’s spit-and-polish drama.
The parade’s end came in sight before Leo was really ready. It was surprising to know that the Konowa "population center" was essentially only four city blocks long. At the far end, a wagon had been covered over with bright bunting and a giant banner that read, “Welcome, Commissioner Leo Torres!” This was the speakers’ podium.
Otharine scrambled up on the wagon and extended her hand, as if to help Leo up. As Leo leaped in, with one jump, her hand and arm changed to a sweeping gesture of welcome, and the crowd responded with polite applause. This whole affair may not have gone exactly as Otharine had planned, but she was still in charge. She spoke first, while Leo sat uncomfortably on the wagon’s low sideboard. The onlookers gathered close to the wagon, mounted regulators still behind them, as if they were herding people. As Leo had guessed, there were no more than four or five hundred.
Otharine Jones propped one leg, her right leg, the one with the gun holstered on it, on the low sideboard, and began to orate. “Brothers and sisters in the revolution,” she began, “We are honored at last to be acknowledged by the revolutionary leadership, by the new world that we are part of. Not only has the top leadership sent one of their own, but they sent the inestimable Commissioner Leo Torres himself. Leo Torres, whose “final offer” propelled our worldwide revolution forward, Leo Torres, the most stalwart of all the devoted revolutionaries, the most resolute of all the warriors who led us to victory, is here!”
Again, there was light, polite applause.
“You may know that reactionaries in automobiles attempted to kidnap Comrade Torres, but you may not know the entire story. You may not know that their puny efforts to intimidate him were brushed away like insects by Commissioner Leo Torres. You may not know that he laughed at their murderous threats, and that, by the force of his will alone, he divided them and sapped their strength.
‘Your regulators had found out about their dark designs and intervened promptly. We would have defeated their plot with certainty anyway, but Comrade Torres’ demeanor had made our work easy. Confronted with Comrade Torres, they had lost their unity and resolve. We took out those murderous reactionaries without a single casualty on the people’s side!”
She waited for applause, but did not receive it. If the people were glad that the regulators had rescued Leo and executed his kidnappers, they weren’t showing it. Leo could see why people would be less than pleased to stand in the hot sun and listen to pompous presentations while uneasily conscious of a certain armed imposition sitting in saddles behind them. For whatever it meant, Otharine and her regulators were not as popular as they wanted to be.
“I’ve spent some time with Comrade Torres,” she went on with no apparent notice of the unsympathetic response, “And he believes as I do that this territory can play a great role in our recovering world. I could have told you last week or last year that we are important, but it wouldn’t have been as convincing as being here today, and seeing for yourselves, that the Revolutionary Council has sent one of their greatest. Now join me in welcoming Comrade Commissioner Leo Torres of the Revolutionary Council!
Leo noted that the applause, while no greater than before, was at least no worse. Otharine Jones made a great show of pumping his hand in congratulations as she allowed him to the audience side of the podium. Leo Torres had never given a public presentation in his life, but he had sat through many of them, and he knew his voice was loud enough for this small audience.
“Brothers and sisters,” he began slowly, “I did not come here to tell you how to run your lives or your territory. I did not come here to judge your progress or to tell you to work harder, or to work slower, or anything else.
‘I came here because it was my assignment, and if there’s anything I’m sure of, it’s that I will try to do my part.
‘But now that I have come, I have to tell you that I am glad. I am glad to have begun to know a little bit about you and about your area. When I return to the Center, I expect to be able to tell them that the people of Konowa and surrounding areas are doing the best they can, and maybe better than that.
‘I know that not everything is perfect. I know there’s been some violence recently, not nearly as much as there has been in other areas and with not nearly as many victims, but violence all the same. And we have to condemn that. If violence was ever the right thing to do, and I’m no authority on whether it was or it wasn’t, it isn’t the right thing to do now. I’m hoping that you will decide soon that everybody, including you regulators on your horses, will turn in their handguns and their assault weapons. They aren’t needed any longer.”
The first beginnings of a hesitant, but spontaneous, applause began.
“Violence was what we had before. Whether somebody killed with a bomb or if they killed by starving a whole population, it was still violence, and we have to be done with it.
‘I can’t judge you. I can tell you that I’m glad you’re still alive. I can tell you that I’m sorry for the sufferings I know you’ve had, but I can assure you that other parts of the world suffered unspeakably. Parts of the world where people used to populate are now uninhabitable, but not most of the world. As far as I can find out, we haven’t lost any new living space to the ocean, either. We haven’t regained any, and it may be a long time before we do, but I believe that, since the Revolutionary Council took charge, we haven’t had any new permanent floodings of coastal areas. The boundaries of our continents aren’t shrinking any more.”
Leo had to pause. There was a rustling in the audience as people turned to one another to check their versions of what they had heard with their immediate neighbors. People in the center of the audience turned to shout to those behind them, “They’ve stopped the ocean.” Then came the applause, first in the front rows, and then rumbling toward the rear, then unanimous, loud and approving.
“It’s true, too,” Leo shouted over the din, “that people are coming forward with solutions. Maybe we, as a people, aren’t moving as fast as we’d like. I know you’d all like to see communications and transportation restored right this minute, for example. Though we’re not moving fast, we are moving carefully. Every time a project is approved, it’s thought out very deliberately as to who will be affected and how. When a permanent job or project is instigated, it’s been carefully planned. I don’t know when you will get communications and transportation here again, even if somebody explained the technological problems and solutions to me, I doubt if I’d understand them. But you will get these things. They will be restored. And when it’s done, it will be done right!”
This time, the applause reached overwhelming levels. Leo paused a long time to enjoy it. He saw the regulators clapping on horseback and, glancing behind him, even the grim Top Regulator herself. Ah, so this is the upside of politics, Leo thought! Reluctant as he was to admit it, Leo was having fun!
It didn’t last long enough. A lone rider was thundering up the recent parade route toward the podium. There, he ignored Leo and the crowd to go straight to Otharine Jones. His breathless report was loud enough for Leo to hear, “Doc Johns has kicked off his generator!”
“Regulators!” she cried with her left hand in the air and her right on her pistol. Without stepping down, she jumped from the wagon to the saddle of her red horse. The other regulators began gathering behind her. Leo fumbled with his own saddle and remounted the palomino without asking Otharine or any one else for help or permission. When Jones spurred her horse, the palomino followed, and Leo Torres hung on for dear life! Whatever might happen when the regulators confronted Leland Johns, Leo intended to be there, even at the price of a riding lesson that he would never have requested!
Along the old roadway they thundered. Leo had no idea that horses could move so quickly! The air around them, stagnant and hot before, was punishing them like whips now. Leo could not hear for the roar of the horses hooves and he could not see for the tears filling his eyes against the hot tearing wind. The big red sorrel led, and the palomino was a living part of the herd behind. Leo could feel each rising of the horse’s haunches behind him, while the middle of the animal, with Leo involved, seem to compress and expand as the next powerful thrust of the two back feet drove them forward.
Leo had never experienced motion so frightening and so irresistible. In a passing flash, he remembered that Dr. Johns had said that “losing control” was everyone’s secret goal, and he wondered if Johns had ever straddled a horse at full running speed? He made himself turn his head slightly to observe how the other riders performed. None of them clung to their saddle horn as Leo did. None of them was being jostled unexpectedly this way and that. He tried to emulate them. He crouched forward and tried to move in concert with the horse. Finally, with great difficulty, he forced his hand off the saddle horn. In a few minutes, though, he had achieved something of the other riders’ form and was beginning to feel, at least in small part, a willing participant in the act so dominated by the animal beneath him.
Within a distance, Otharine slowed her panting horse to a gallop, and all the riders did the same. Then, as the animals recovered and before Leo could relax, she pushed them again to their fastest speed. This time, Leo was better prepared. By the time that the gait had changed three or four times, Leo Torres was beginning to think that he could learn to ride. Otharine had not spoken, but Leo knew that she could not forbid his accompanying the mounted group. He was, after all, the Commissioner. She could still shoot him, Leo realized, but she couldn’t forbid him.
Leo regained enough of his senses at last, to become aware of something other than coping with the ride. His mouth and eyes were full of dirt. He observed that his formerly blonde horse had turned a wet chestnut color. All of the horses had darkened, and Otharine’s sorrel was almost black with sweat. Around the saddle blankets, the horses’ sweat had begun to foam into white lather. The horses ran with their tongues out of their mouths, and their eyes wild with torture. But none of them deviated, none of them tried to leave the herd. The slowest ones, in the rear, ran faster to catch up. And the palomino, former palomino, was staying with the dark red leader. Though their sides were heaving and their eyes bulged outward, these animals were staying together if they had to run until they dropped.
Otharine, apparently, knew when they would run and when they would drop. She made the fastest speed possible, and Leo began to feel a certain accomplishment that, even though he could not have done it without the herd of horses, he hadn’t dropped out. He wiped his gritty tongue and his aching eyes on his sleeve and rode on.
What had seemed a long trip before now whipped by in minutes. Suddenly, they were at Spring Farm. Otharine rode directly to the laboratory building and dismounted, pistol in hand, even before her horse had fully stopped. The other riders also drew their weapons, but did not dismount. Leo guided his animal to the front, between Otharine and the only other person evident.
Jane Early, in a white dress, stood resolutely in the doorway.