Sheriff Seymour rode his white horse through the beautiful tree-lined streets of the wealthiest suburb in Dodge, and arrived at the mansion of one of the richest men in the whole state.
He rang the doorbell. A servant led him to an oak-panelled room and gestured for him to sit.
He sat and waited for the best part of the day.
He was used to it; it came with the job.
His mission was to enforce strict moral codes in the best interests of the good people of Dodge.
They needed protecting from the dangerous ideas of the elite.
The elite wanted to undermine democracy.
The elite were an angry mob who did not engage in reasoned debate. The elite had to be taught some manners.
The door swung open and one of the richest men in the whole state presented the Sheriff with a cheque.
‘‘I like that Bill of yours that will strike fear into the pampered few,’’ he said. ‘‘Add this to your war chest.’’
He rang a bell, and the servant came to show the Sheriff out.
TUESDAY
The Sheriff called on another captain of industry.
The wait was longer and the cheque was smaller.
He asked, ‘‘Got time for a shot
of whisky?’’
‘‘No,’’ said the baron.
He was shown the door, and asked the servant, ‘‘How about you?’’
The servant closed the door.
WEDNESDAY
The Sheriff and his horse were unable to travel. The elite marched through Dodge to oppose his Bill, and closed traffic.
‘‘Awful people,’’ said Heather du Plessis Allan, editor of the Dodge Gazette.
‘‘History will judge them harshly,’’ agreed Barry Soper, the editor’s husband.
The Sheriff drew up a list of parents who took their children out of school to join the march. They would be punished. They needed to respect the strict moral codes of Dodge. They had to be taught a lesson.
THURSDAY
Representatives from the elite challenged Sheriff Seymour at an angry meeting in City Hall.
He said later, ‘‘I heard all sorts of name-calling, I heard hysteria, I saw haka, but I didn’t hear any arguments.’’
‘‘It was a dark day for democracy,’’ said the couple from the Dodge Gazette.
FRIDAY
The elite continued marching. Sheriff Seymour watched them go past the jailhouse. The pampered few marched in great numbers.
He thought he recognised a few faces. It came to him who they were: servants.
- Steve Braunias
