The Auctioneer

“So that’s the deal,” he said, almost lapsing into his normal voice. “And just to show we mean business, Perly’s got a gift for the town. So, uh...” Mudgett scowled at Perly.

Perly stood and side-stepped out along the row, excusing himself to the people he moved past. Wearing his everyday green work clothes, he climbed the stairs up to the stage, with Dixie trotting prettily at his heel. He took over Mudgett’s place in the center of the stage, and Dixie traced out a circle beside him and lay down with a sigh. Mudgett moved over and stood in the lee of the American flag. Perly frowned as he squinted out over the people.

“Some of you have sunk so low, you’ve been setting fire to your own town,” Perly announced sternly, his voice cutting through the stillness in the hall and making everyone sit up a little straighter. Perly looked out into the watching faces, absorbing their expressions as if the proper degree of guilt would register by setting off an alarm in his head.

“Isn’t that right, Paul?” he said.

Paul Geness let the child in his lap slide to the floor. He squinted up at Perly with his close-set brown eyes. Geness had eleven children. He managed by looking after the town dump and salvaging what other people threw away.

“I said, ‘Isn’t that right, Paul?’ ”

Geness opened his mouth but didn’t answer.

“I know it hasn’t been easy,” Perly cried. “But we’re undergoing the fastest change in the history of civilization. All I want to do is harness that change. Make it work for all of us. And I pride myself I’ve made a beginning. A fine beginning.” Perly raised his fist and slammed it down into his other hand. “But since when have the people of Harlowe been so fond of their creature comforts? Since when have the people of Harlowe been afraid of a little hard work? Since when?”

Perly’s voice grew louder and deeper. “A few have even run away. Well, damn it, if they’re that low-minded, we don’t want them. Do we, Frank?” he asked, pointing a strong brown finger at Frank Lovelace, a stocky man who had been a fairly efficient truck farmer before the auctions.

Lovelace was not a talkative man, and now he shifted in his chair, tightened his lips, and swallowed.

“And now this madness,” the auctioneer cried, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. “This insanity. This lunacy.” He shook his head as if to rid himself of his vision, then looked out over the people with an intensity that made them turn away from him.

He pulled a sheaf of bills from his shirt pocket. “Well, here’s three thousand dollars,” he said. He held the bills high so that everyone could see that they were hundred-dollar bills. “Three thousand dollars,” he repeated, playing his eyes over the crowd. “Anyone gone by your place at an odd hour? Anyone smelling of gasoline lately? Anyone in your house acting peculiar this last week?”

Perly focused on a heavily made-up woman sitting next to her husband, who had recently had a leg amputated after falling under his tractor. “What do you say, Jane Collins? Do you know anyone sleeping all day?” he asked. “Do you?”

She dropped her eyes and shook her head. Her husband gripped his crutches and looked at the chair in front of him.

“Let us know,” Perly said, his voice low and smooth. “We’ll pay cash and we’ll pay in secret. Trust us.” He snapped the elastic band back around the bills and returned them to his pocket so that the figure “100” poked out with its elegant elongated zeros. “Does anyone have any questions?” Perly asked.

No one made any noticeable move, but no one was quite still either, and the stiff folding chairs gave off a sound like radio static.

“Well, then, we ask you for your own protection to get right on home. The deputies will be making rounds in about half an hour to make sure you all arrive safely.”

The people of Harlowe sat in their chairs as though they had not heard their dismissal.

“Good night,” Perly said more gently. “We’re all in this together. Let’s try to remember Harlowe’s heritage of strength and courage. We’ll make a new beginning yet.”

Perly started off the stage, and very slowly the people in the hall began to pull their coats around their shoulders and stand up.

“Hey there, young fellow,” said a voice from behind the Moores. “Them proposals you’re makin’. They supposed to be laws or what? It was Sam Parry. His sky-blue eyes were as piercing as ever, but he was less ruddy than usual after taking a bullet in the shoulder during hunting season. “We goin’ to get a chance to vote on them new rules?”

Perly paused and smiled a moment at Sam before he returned to the center of the stage. “Vote, Sam?” he said. “Who could possibly object? Simple temporary regulations for the protection of all of us. But, of course, if you think we should take a vote, let’s take a vote. Perly looked out at the townspeople as though they were co-conspirators. “Why not?” he said. “All in favor, say ‘Aye.’ ”

There was a pause, then Ian James shouted a throaty aye and there were scattered echoes around the room.