An Introduction

By Layne and Atonia

The sleek, black Lincoln Navigator pulled into the first parking space on the right-hand side of Main Street.  The driver's side door opened and Ben Wade stepped casually out, his steely blue eyes missing nothing as they scanned the shops and activity on both sides of the street.  Then he turned and reached back into the Lincoln, taking out a black hat that fit in with the black jeans and black shirt he was wearing, and settling it on his head.  He walked slowly around his vehicle and stepped up onto the sidewalk.

His town.  Sandhurst, Georgia was his town.  Had been for the past eight years, though he'd spent little time here.  His line of work required him to be moving around rather than staying in one place, but it was his money that had paid for most of the renovations that had taken place and were still going on around him now.

His own town.  What the hell did a man like him need with a town?  He'd wondered that to himself many times over the last eight years and he was still asking himself that.  For the first time in a long time, though, he felt like investigating the progress that had taken place here.

The little township of Sandhurst, several miles outside Savannah, had been founded by Martin Sandhurst, a man who'd been a member of the Sons of Liberty in 1775, at the beginning of the Revolutionary War.  Joining the Georgia Militia, he had risen to the rank of Colonel during the eight years of the war and, afterward, he'd come home to Savannah to marry the sweetheart who'd patiently waited for him.  He'd bought his first acres of land and proudly planted a sign reading "Welcome to Sandhurst" outside their cabin, declaring that he'd see a town built in his name before his death.  Both he and his wife lived to see a small, but thriving village spring up around them. Their sons and daughters gave birth to their own children in a full-fledged town with stores, schools, churches and an ever-growing population.

In 1864 the then well-established town of Sandhurst was completely destroyed during General Sherman's violently destructive March to the Sea, with casualties among the town population numbering in the hundreds.  It was another Sandhurst, one of the Colonel's grandsons who had served as a Lieutenant in the Confederate army who returned from war to re-build, but it would take two more generations of the family to see the town returned to completeness.

At the turn of the 20th century and up until 1950, Sandhurst remained a bustling if somewhat quiet township.  Those who disliked the larger, more crowded conditions in the city of Savannah found it a charming community in which to buy a house and raise a family.  During the 1950's however, its population became stagnant, and in the 1960's people began to trickle away, attracted to larger places with more activity and excitement.  Over the ensuing decades the little town hung on, but barely.  By the year 2000, it was a mere skeleton of its former self.  The majority of the homes and businesses were boarded up and falling to ruin.  Barely a handful of people lived within the city limits of town.  It looked as though Sandhurst, which had twice over been built up from nothing, would not last out another decade.  That was when Ben Wade came to town.

Strolling down the street now, he passed a couple of shops that had been renovated but were not yet occupied.  The next building was the bank.  Ben stopped to admire the work which had been done on it, grinning slightly.  Banks were something he knew well.  His line of work called for it.  As he stood there, a man came out the door smiling at him.

Max Skinner knew a thing or two about banks. He’d rather play in the arena than take the responsibility for the whole ball game. But responsibility he had now that his Uncle Henry had sent him down here to Sandhurst. He was from Savannah and still lived there, making the commute each day. It was an easy drive for everyone else was headed to Savannah. A small town bank, how low he had fallen. His risky way of trading had cost him his job in the city. He was here trying to redeem himself.

A familiar figure appeared in front of the bank. Max had met Ben Wade and he supposed his benefactor. Without him the town wouldn’t have needed a bank. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and greeted Wade.

“Good morning,” Max smiled.  “Looks a little different on Main Street, don’t you think?”

"Mornin', Skinner."  Wade returned the smile.  Max Skinner was a man he'd met.  Seemed a little out of his element running a small-town bank like this but then, Ben reminded himself, Skinner wasn't the only one here who was out of his element.

Turning to look at the rest of the street, he went on, "Sure as hell does look a little diff'rent.  Lotta work been goin' on since the last time I was through here.  Looks like my money's been put to good use." 

 “That it has. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s got a feel to it, the town, that is. Several people have remarked about it and Sonya was down over the weekend having a poke about. She was particularly interested in the renovations to the old houses. The ones on First Street seem to have weathered the years but Okatie is being redone now. We may end up buying here.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to; they had a nice house in Savannah.

"Some nice old houses here, that's for sure," Ben said.  He'd been born in Georgia.  Raised there, too, as far as raising went for a boy who'd been abandoned by his mother at the age of 8.  His own house was three-quarters of a mile away, on a hill overlooking the town.  It was new but built in the style of a plantation house from the Civil War era.

Giving Max a look, he asked, "Sonya?  That your wife?"

Max raised a brow. “No, she won’t commit. I think she’s waiting for me to grow up, poor love. We’ve been together for five years…mostly.” Sonya had her own penthouse on top of the Omni by the Savannah River. She was an events coordinator there. She loved him dearly and spent more time with him at his house on Jackson Square than at her own. He’d like her to live with him permanently.

Grinning, Ben gave Max a friendly whack on the shoulder.  "Take my advice, Max. Don' grow up. Committin's 'bout the worst thing a man can do.  Too many women out there to be tyin' yourself down to jus' one!"

 Max grinned, “But it’s so much easier when there’s just one to deal with.”

"No, it's easier when you can jus' walk away from 'em," Ben said.  "It's always worked for me."

Turning his head, Ben looked up at the cloudy spring sky.  "Been gettin' any questions 'bout loans?  For businesses or houses?"

“Yes, actually I have. We’ve written three this week. There is a Fresh Market wanting to move in and an old house down on the corner of Main and Second Street going to be another B&B. The Theater is also up for a loan. An actor from Savannah wants to buy it and renovate it. He’s evidently well known. Not sure I’ve seen any of his movies, though. There are more in the works. It’s coming along, Ben.  Some of the other residents are doing a bit of scrubbing and painting their storefronts.”

"So the town 'a Sandhurst is buildin' again," Ben said slowly.  The sense of history in the little town was what had first captured Ben's attention, how it had twice built itself up from nothing and now the process was beginning again.  He had built himself up from nothing, too.  Just as determination and money had made Ben Wade into what he was today, the same was true of this little town. 

Aloud he said to Skinner, "Well, Max, I'm gonna see the rest 'a town here.  See what else has been happenin' since last time I was through. That diner open up yet?  I could use some lunch a little later."

Max smiled again, “Diner’s open. You’ll think you’re in a time warp. Looks straight out of the 50’s from pictures I’ve seen of that era. There’s another restaurant open across the street from it with a little fancier fare plus the Sandy Conch Pub down on the corner. You can eat here, that’s for sure.”

"Pub?"  Ben looked interested.  "Now there's somethin' that wasn't here before.  I'll hafta take a look.  You have a good day there, Max.  Keep the money flowin'."  Ben chuckled as he continued down the sidewalk.

He passed a couple more small shops, one that apparently would turn into a bookstore a little later according to a sign in its front window.  Ben made a mental note of that.  Reading was one of his favorite pastimes.  The next building had a sign reading 'Ivey's' out front and a young man was just coming out the door.  Ben almost ran into him.

“Ooopsie!” Andy stopped in his tracks and held the large garbage bag away from the man he’d almost run into. “Sorry.” He wiped a hand on his green apron. 

"No problem," Ben said in a quiet tone, but his eyes were hard.  "Looks like you got a load there, friend."

 “Yes, Sir, I do. I’m pulling double duty this morning trying to get everything ready for lunch.”

Andy had no idea who he was speaking to. He was by nature polite and well-mannered and a well brought up young man. His grandmother was a Sandhurst and of the family that founded the town way back when. His father, Ed Hoffman, was the only remaining relative of the founders who still lived in the town. He was washing dishes and doing kitchen duty at Ivey’s because he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do with his life. It wasn’t the job his father wanted him to take when he told him he had to find himself a job, but it was something to fill in the time until he had his revelation. 

"Speakin' 'a lunch-" Ben had regained his composure.  "You got any steaks in there?"

 Andy smiled, “Yes, Sir, best in town. I’d highly recommend this place to eat.”

"I jus' might take you up on that."  Ben was more at ease now that the sudden surprise of someone stepping in front of him had passed.  He was a man of instinct and such surprises brought out a quick response.

"Gonna check out a little more 'a the town first, but I'll be back," he grinned.  "Save me a table."

“Yes, Sir. I’ll put a word in the kitchen, too.” He grinned and picked up his bag of trash, heading for the dumpster in the alley.

Ben watched the young man for a moment before stepping off the sidewalk and crossing the main street.  Something had caught his eye. He was headed diagonally across the street, but before he could reach his destination a brown Ford Crown Victoria pulled up to the curb and parked.  Ben's eyes narrowed slightly as he read the word "Sheriff" in gold lettering across the side of the car.  He stopped to speak to the man who stepped out. 

John Biebe, acting sheriff of Sandhurst and the surrounding county was going to pick up lunch for his resident skinhead. He parked near the diner and stepped out. “Hey, how ya doin?” he greeted the man on the sidewalk. He looked familiar but John’s head was so jumbled up he couldn’t place him.

"Sheriff."  Ben Wade nodded, but the look in his eyes was cool.  He wasn't fond of lawmen, no matter who they were or what town they were in. "Look like you're in a hurry there," he grinned.  "Somebody bein' robbed?"

 “I’m picking up lunch for me and my prisoner. I don’t have anybody to mind the store when I leave right now. I’ve seen you before. Do you live around here?”

"Got a house here," Ben said slowly.  "But I really don' know if you could say I live here.  Name's Ben Wade."

 John went silent for a moment. “Well, welcome to your town.” He smiled slowly. “Sorry about that. I should have known who you are. It’s good to see you here.”

"Don' worry 'bout it, Sheriff."  Ben returned the smile, but he was still wary.  "Guess you got your hands full 'round here.  So how's crime goin' in my town?"

 “Ah, got the usual suspects in jail,” he grinned. "Actually one skinhead, harassment and assault, but I’m not sure the victim can say assault in English. Other than that it’s been pretty quiet. Get some domestic violence down at the campground once in awhile. Got a mystery developing over on the island. A boat washed up but it may not be anything. I’ll be glad when the election comes up. I thought we might have been able to swing a special since the Sheriff was killed but said it was too close to elections anyway. I could use some help.” John just laid it out; if anybody could help him it would be Wade.

"Well-"  Ben frowned a little at the mention of domestic violence.  He didn't like anyone hurting women.  "Can't rightly say I know what to do, Sheriff.  How'd you go about gettin' help anyway?  Deputize somebody like they used to 'n the old west?"

“See the thing is, when the Sheriff got shot and killed I had to step up and that’s okay but the other officer quit. It’s all up in limbo now. I officially don’t have a budget to hire anybody. I’m paying myself out of the former sheriff’s coffers and occasional help as I can get out of my own pocket.” He caught a breath and settled down a minute. “Sorry, I don’t mean to lay all this on you. Soon as the elections are done we’ll be all right. The town needs some structure and that’s all I’m gonna say about it. I wish it was like the old days and I could go out and deputize somebody. Well, I’ve run off here long enough, Mr. Wade. Guess I’d better go in here and order dinner for my skinhead.”

Money was something Ben understood.  "So you need money? That somethin' a private citizen can provide, or is that not allowed?"

John smiled a little, “It ain’t allowed, Mr. Wade. If I had to stop you for a speeding ticket, well, you can see how that would go down. No, the election is what’s gonna save us here. We need some leadership and guidance. A bunch of guys sitting around a table down at The Sandy Conch discussing how to go about managing a town don’t get it done. You set us in motion and now we need a captain.” 

"How long 'til the 'lection?" Ben asked.

“Two months. That’s the best we could do.”

"I'll be aroun' for the next coupla weeks.  You lemme know if there's anythin' I can do, Sheriff."  He'd never offered help to the law before, Ben marveled to himself.  But then, this was one place where he could live quiet and he wanted to stay on the Sheriff's good side.

 “Thanks, Mr. Wade. I’m really glad you came to town today." He smiled and stepped into the diner.

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