The Great Sand Fracas of Ames County: A Novel

36. Arrest the Protestors

144 Arrest the Protestors 36 With breakfast finished, and with an earful of comments about what had recently been transpiring in Link Lake, Karl called Marilyn Jones and arranged to meet with her within the hour. When Karl entered her little office, Marilyn said, “What in hell is going on, Karl? I thought you had everything under control. Do you know how many protestors are up there at the park? I counted fifteen. And did you see how they defaced your map at the village hall? The bastards. This has got to stop. What are you going to do about all this, Karl? This whole project is going to hell in a handbasket unless we do something to stop it, and right now. I called the police department and told them to arrest those damn protestors.” Karl said quietly, “They can’t arrest them; they’ve got a right to protest.” As if not hearing what Karl had just said, Marilyn continued, “Not a damn one of them is from Link Lake. What the hell do these people think they’re doing? Messing with our little town when it’s just none of their damn business.” She pounded her fist on the table. In the several months that Karl had been working with Marilyn Jones, he couldn’t remember when he saw her more angry or heard her use profanity. “So what do you suggest we do, Karl? This whole damn strategy of calming down the people was your idea. Now, all of a sudden, everybody is upset again. People are wondering what’s going on. Somebody told me they saw one of your trucks delivering a big machine to the park yesterday. That right?” “Yes, that’s right.” 145 Arrest the Protestors “Well, why didn’t you tell me about that, so at least I would know that somebody would see that machine and decide it was time to raise a ruckus?” “I didn’t think it was important . . . the company will be bringing lots of equipment during the next few weeks.” “Well, give me a heads-up so this kind of stuff doesn’t come as a surprise. My new chef saw the protestors when he came to work this morning. You know what he said, Karl? You know what he said?” “What’d he say?” “Pierre said he moved from Madison to Link Lake with his family to get away from all this protesting. Said he thought this was a quiet, peaceful little community. He couldn’t believe all those protestors were marching back and forth in front of the park’s entrance. And he asked me what it was all about.” “And you told him about the new sand mine coming to town?” “Of course I did. I told him this would be the best thing to happen to Link Lake in twenty years. That once the mine was up and running our business would prosper even more than it is now.” “And what did Pierre say?” “He didn’t say anything, other than thanks for letting him know. He just turned and went to work. For all I know he is against the sand mine. He didn’t say where he stands.” “Maybe he doesn’t care one way or the other,” said Karl. “I don’t know what to think. I sure wish we could do something about those outside agitators. I think I’ll call the sheriff in Willow River, have some of his deputies come over and work with our police to keep an eye on them. Just can’t trust those protestors, don’t know what they’ll do next.” Emily Higgins smiled when she drove past the park entrance on this warm sunny morning and saw the protestors marching with their Stop the Mine signs held high. Emily had been in touch with the historical societies in the region and had informed them about the plans for the village to build a sand mine in the park and destroy the Trail Marker Oak in the process. She had asked if their members would volunteer to march—but 146 Arrest the Protestors only when she gave the word. When Emily learned that the mining company had delivered a big machine to the park, she got on the phone to historical societies in the area: Waupaca, Willow River, and Westfield—all of whom offered to help with the protests. Three...