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Unformatted text preview: r first language was Italian. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "And they assaulted Mr. Meek?" "They did." "Who is they?" "We don't know yet. Sheriff Coley is investigating." I was anxious to get her impression of our Sheriff. While I waited, I went after another wedge of corn bread. Soon there was butter dripping from my chin. "He's been the Sheriff for a long time, hasn't he?" she said. I'm sure she knew the exact year in which Mackey Don Coley had first bought himself into office. "What do you think of him?" I asked. She drank some tea and contemplated. Miss Callie did not rush her answers, especially when talking about others. "On this side of the tracks, a good Sheriff is one who keeps the gamblers and the bootleggers and the whoremongers away from the rest of us. In that regard, Mr. Coley has done a proper job." "Can I ask you something?" "Certainly. You're a reporter." "Your speech is unusually articulate and precise. How much education did you receive?" It was a sensitive question in a society where, for many decades, education had not been stressed. It was 1970, and Mississippi still had no public kindergartens and no mandatory school attendance laws. She laughed, giving me the full benefit of those teeth. "I finished the ninth grade, Mr. Traynor." "The ninth grade?" "Yes, but my situation was unusual. I had a wonderful tutor. It's another long story." I began to realize that these wonderful stories Miss Callie was promising would take months, maybe years to develop. Perhaps they would evolve on the porch, over a weekly banquet. "Let's save it for later," she said. "How is Mr. Caudle?" "Not well. He will not come out of his house." "A fine man. He will always be close to the heart of the black community. He had such courage." I thought Spot's "courage" had more to do...
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- Spring '10