Like selling books to a drowning man

                                    

                                          
 A week after Charlie's meeting with Bres, Earl spent the morning watching what was becoming HC's books. The new shop on the south-west corner was kinda open. On a crooked pole, a barely readable shingle swung from one of the porch studs. The green ink said only HC's. The bookstore was with out a doubt the only one of its kind in Agalaland. Except for Ms Skvosip's fancy stone mansion, it was also the only front on the square that wasn't even a little whitewashed.
 "He couldn't even afford a shingle big enough for his name!" Earl was in Bern's complaining to Fannie, a new wrinkle to their banter. She only grunted in reply, not a sound of approval.
 "What kind of fool thinks a bookstore in Stagna is a good idea? It'll be like selling books to a drowning man!"
 Even with Earls scorn, this Herschel character was now turning his sentence of community service into a business. Even stranger considering he had no books to sell. But since Fannie wasn't talking, Earl wasn't clear on what they were selling. He could've asked Charlene but that would be like admitting he was curious.
 Still, people'd been going in an out of the place even before it opened. And HC's had sprouted much quicker than anyone expected. They'd even had volunteers.
 "Ya know, no one helped me spruce up the jail when I first became marshal?"
 "Maybe they didna like ya as much as ya thought they did?"
 Fannie was more than normally savage in her put downs this morning, but he couldn't help moaning at her. Because HC's was turning into more than this supposed bookstore. It was becoming a home. With Charlene as a permanent house-guest.
 When his daughter first showed him the inside, it was nothing but an old carpeted staircase and bare studs. But before long, the first floor was covered in shelves. Except for the kitchen and a nook with a desk by the door. Herschel explained that the shelves were for keeping books on, hence book... shelves. Earl'd told him it was a waste of space since there weren't any books.
 "Even if he somehow gets his hands on some books, who's he gonna sell 'em to in a town where people can't hardly mouth the words from a page?" Earl asked Fannie's back.
 He wasn't against books on principle, anything that could make his fellow Agalians a bit smarter was probably a good thing. Domnall certainly wasn't interested in making anyone any smarter.
 "Still, even without books, they seem to be doing alright?" He tried to not sound too negative, but Fannie kept up her grunting replies.
 On the outside, the building still made a good impression of being abandoned. But inside things were happening, it was becoming more presentable by the day. But the thing inside Earl was interested in connected to why there'd been a line to get in.
 "I mean what can he really do? Do you know how long it took to get the bunkhouse painted once he was off the job? One day! Done!"
 HC's had the same basic design as any other building on the square, but seemed to wear its spots with pride. The outside was almost as shabby as their church. Earl was standing with his back and one foot leaned up against the hanging tree, watching the people from underneath his brown hat, but mostly HC's. One other thing was bothering him. Where had a stone-broke, half Nontie, produced the funds to buy a building. Even a crappy one. And then persuaded his Charlene to quit several of her other jobs to work there.
 "I've been trying her to quit some fore years," he said. "But now she won't even take the pay for being jail-house cook?" In his disapproval he spit on the ground. Earl'd never approved of spitting.
 When he asked why she'd said, 'I'm doing it pro-bone. It's like helping people, but fancy.' Then going on to explain that Rascal had given her the idea of doing things for others without expecting something back.
 "No, that whole idea reeks of Herschel."
 But watching as Charlene bustled up and down a short line of people, he couldn't help feeling a tug of pride. As she chatted with the groups, she sometimes moved one of them up closer to the entrance. In rare cases, someone was sent away. As one bunch left, another entered solemnly. This had been going on for the better part of the morning.
 "I can't understand how that man survived in the wild?" Charlene had told him a little of what Herschel pretended to remember. From the sound of it he'd been trekking throughout Sojurut for months before Earl caught him.
 "Caught! My arse, more like rescued."
Updated: 03.05.2024