Free arkansastraveler by Earlene Fowler

vantage point from there would be perfect, and I wouldn’t have to make strained small talk with anyone.
    “They’d definitely notice a woman climbing a rope ladder trying to escape,” Duck said, walking toward me carrying a filled plate.
    I laughed and gestured to the empty chair next to me. “How’d you know what I was thinking?”
    “You’ve glanced at the ladder longingly about four or five times in the last five minutes,” he said, spreading a white linen napkin over his slacks.
    “And what are you doing watching me?” I said.
    He glanced up at the tree house. “I wasn’t watching you. I was also looking with great longing at that ladder. You were in my line of vision.”
    “You hate these things, too?”
    “With a passion. I never was one for politics but I want to support Amen. She’s right in that this town needs some changes. I’m just not sure there’s many other people who agree.”
    “There seems to be a lot of people here tonight.”
    He shrugged and dug into his coleslaw. “Emory and Boone have lots of people who owe them, both financiallyand politically, so they want to stay on their good side. How many people who say they’re going to vote for Amen and how many actually do is an entirely different thing.” He paused and took a sip of tea. “No one’s run against Grady Hunter the last two terms. She doesn’t really believe she’s going to win, but that’s just between you and me. She wants to exude confidence to her constituency.”
    “Somehow I can’t imagine Amen not getting what Amen wants.”
    He shook his head and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “It takes more than want to change a whole society’s view. But it has to start somewhere.”
    “What about the problems you alluded to before, with the signs?”
    He leaned closer to me. “She’s not that worried about it but she’s gotten a couple of threats.”
    “Like what?”
    “Stealing her signs off people’s lawns or spray paintin’ them with graffiti. Phone calls to her campaign headquarters saying they’re gonna burn her house down. They made allusions to that man who was drug behind the truck by those white supremacists a while back.”
    I shivered involuntarily. “That’s pretty scary stuff. I hope she’s being extra careful.”
    “As careful as I can convince her to be,” he said, his voice tart and irritated. “But you know Amen, she’s not afraid of anything. Not for herself, anyway. She does worry about her son, but I’ve talked to Lawrence, and he makes sure to never be alone. At six-foot-four and two hundred thirty pounds and a bunch of friends not much smaller, not many are going to mess with him.”
    I folded my napkin neatly and placed it on my empty plate. “Amen never was a cowardly kid, so I guess that hasn’t changed. Has anyone reported the incidents to the police?”
    He shook his head no. “She won’t let us. Said that’s just playin’ into their hands.”
    “She really should. It would help build the case in the event something does happen. It would give the district attorney more physical evidence to work with.”
    He laughed. “You sound like a cop.”
    I returned his laugh. “No, just married to one. And you’re going to meet him tomorrow.”
    “I can’t wait. Does he know about our wicked past?”
    “No, but I plan on milking it for all it’s worth, so exaggerate, okay? Say it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. That you’ve never, ever forgotten it.”
    He gave me a teasing wink. “And who says that would be an exaggeration?”
    “Very good, Dr. Duck. Keep it up.” I stood up, picking up my plate. “I think I’ll take this to the kitchen, then try and find Uncle Boone. I haven’t gotten to say hello to him yet.”
    “Okay, see you later.”
    In the kitchen, where the catering staff was busy filling more platters with hors d’oeuvres, I dropped off my plate, contemplated a deviled egg, then resisted and wandered back into the crowded foyer.