Chapter 12

Martin eyes never left Sharla’s face as she told her story, and Sharla looked ahead as she spoke. When she was finished, the two of them sat there, Martin sitting sideways, looking at her, and Sharla facing the bar, looking into the kitchen through the pass-through window.
“Wow,” Martin said quietly. He puffed his cheeks out as he took a big breath of air, held it a moment and let it out slowly. “Unbelievable…”
“Oh believe it, Martin,” Sharla shot back. “What a…creep!” She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she said the last word.
“Did you really hit him?” Martin asked. He didn’t want to offend her or minimize what Talbot did to her, but he was amazed at the thought of her hauling off and hitting him.
Sharla finally turned to face him, and replied, “I sure did,” and nodded her head once for emphasis. “He had it coming. Not just for what he did to me, but what he did to a lot of my friends. Girls from my tribe have been attacked by him for years.”
“Did you tell anyone when it happened, Sharla?”
“You know, Martin, I didn’t,” she said. “I was afraid right after it happened. I mean, what if Mr. Talbot wanted to punish me for hitting him?”
“Are you kidding?” Martin nearly shouted. “You were afraid you’d get in trouble?”
“Let me finish,” she answered, and Martin knew by the way she deliberately pronounced each word that he’d said the wrong thing. “I said I felt that way right after it happened. I was 16! What did I know?”
“Sharla, I’m sorry...” he tried to apologize, but Sharla cut him off. “I know, Martin, some old teacher tries to molest me, and I don’t tell anyone. I get it. But you have to understand, I was kind of in shock and just a kid.”
Martin nodded. He did understand, but wished she had told someone, anyone, so that he might have found out what happened to her and maybe could have helped her.
Sharla was thoughtful for a moment. “About a year ago, I accidently mentioned it in passing to Uncle Bill. He got a funny look on his face, but he didn’t say anything. For a while, we didn’t hear too much about Indian girls being bothered by Mr. Talbot, but that lasted for about six months.” She sighed and continued, “Then, a few months ago, it started again. Girls from the tribe started coming home from school talking about being assaulted. I guess Mr. Talbot thinks Uncle Bill doesn’t have much of a memory or is an idiot who doesn’t care about the people in his community. We are just Indians, after all.” For the first time since Martin had met her, Sharla’s voice was filled with bitterness. He didn’t know what to say.
Throughout their conversation, Don had been watching from the end of the bar, and upon seeing that their talk seemed stalled, he walked tentatively toward Martin and Sharla, under the pretense of refilling their beer mugs. “How about another round, you two? This one’s on me,” he said to them with a false sounding note of cheerfulness in his voice. “You need anything else, Martin? Sharla?”
Sharla looked down into her empty mug. Martin struggled as he began to answer, “No…no…we’re just…no…Sharla?”
Sharla sighed, looked up and touched Martin’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Martin. Don, we’re just talking about Frank Talbot and what he’s been up to during his 35 years of teaching at Siren High.” She looked at him with a sad smile on her face. Don reached out and patted her hand which laid flat on the bar. “Sharla, would it bother you to know that I know exactly what that asshole has been up to during his illustrious teaching career?”
Sharla narrowed her eyes and replied tightly, “Just what do you know?”
“Just the talk I overhear in this bar, which is plenty,” Don answered. “Lots of innuendo, gossip. No facts or hard accusations, per se. Just a bunch of low lifes talking. Smarmy bastards…”
“Well then you must know that I’m the one that got away,” Sharla said with sarcastic brightness. “You have no idea how many times guys come in to Wild Bill’s for bait or gas on their way to the lake, and when they see me, they nudge and wink and whisper like I’m deaf or stupid or both.”
“Which you’re not,” Don chimed in. “What I don’t understand is that this is a secret everyone knows, except those in authority.”
“Don’t be so sure, Don,” Sharla responded. “I have a feeling lots of people in high places know about Talbot, but they don’t know what to do. Or are too scared to do anything because it might make Burnett County look less than perfect.”
Martin, who had been sitting there, lost in thought as Don and Sharla talked, suddenly perked up. “That’s exactly what I think!” he said excitedly. “That’s why I’m doing a story on Talbot at the Sentinel.”
Don and Sharla both turned and looked at Martin as if he had two heads. “What?” they both asked, in unison.
“Wait, wait. I’m using the story to dig up dirt so that we can expose Talbot for the person he is,” he explained.
Don’s face lit up with a broad smile, but Sharla started shaking her head. “No, Martin, don’t do that. You’ll get in trouble, and it won’t do any good anyway,” she said, her voice anxious.
Don looked hard at Sharla. “Dear girl, give our friend here some credit. Martin, what’s your plan?”
Sharla’s words about getting into trouble bothered him, but Martin had made a promise to make things right, and somehow, he was going to do it and keep his job. “Here’s my plan…”

Don and Sharla listened as Martin laid out his ideas for gathering historical information on Talbot from past issues of the Sentinel, interviewing his fellow teachers and students and then talking to the superintendent and school board members, under the guise of finding out how they were going to honor Talbot at his retirement. He told them he’d be careful as he dug for facts and planned on acting shocked and surprised when he presented Clark Grayson with what he "discovered". He’d ask for Clark’s good counsel and professional advice on how to proceed when it came time to finally lay his discovery at the feet of the school administrators and ask for their reaction. “With any luck, they will be so overwhelmed by the evidence and so shamed by their lack of action, they will throw Talbot out without any pension and run him out of town,” Martin said at the end of his monologue, a note of triumph in his voice.
Although he had been flying by the seat of his pants so far, Martin’s plan seemed well thought out by Don and Sharla. “Martin, this could just work,” Don said, slapping his hands on the bar and smiling. As he walked off to get some beers for some other customers in the back booth, Sharla acted pleased, but not as convinced. “What if nobody talks?” she asked doubtfully.
It hadn’t even occurred to Martin that people wouldn’t give up information willingly. “Well, I think they will. But if they don’t, well, maybe I’ll just have to push harder or ask people I know have been hurt by Talbot to…say something.”
“Good thinking, Martin,” Sharla replied. “People like me.”
Martin nodded and said, “Sharla, I’ll keep you out of this unless I absolutely have to…” Sharla quickly cut him off. “Martin, I know that. And just so you know, it’s not that I’m afraid to talk about this. But if I’m the only one, I know that people won’t believe it because it’s just an Indian girl making the accusation. So find something before you need to talk to me. I’ll be your corroborating witness!”
“Corroborating witness? Sharla, you’ve got a great vocabulary for a high school dropout,” Martin said jokingly, and then realized how much he could hurt Sharla by saying that. She saw the look of regret in his eyes, and before he could open his mouth to apologize, she punched him in the shoulder and said, “Watch it, Martin. You know I have a great right hook. Just ask Talbot! And besides, just because I dropped out of Siren High doesn’t mean I’m not educated.”
Martin looked at her with confusion and disbelief written all over his face. “What are you talking about?”
“Jeez, Martin, do you think the only way a person can get an education is through the Siren Public School system?” Sharla rolled her eyes at him. “I earned my GED in one year after dropping out. And after that, I started taking night classes up at UW in Superior. I’ll have my bachelor’s degree in about one year.”
“In what?” Martin asked.
“Well, I started out just taking general courses, but then I saw how much Uncle Bill needed an accountant, so I’m getting my degree in finance,” she answered with pride. “Then maybe he can get rid of that worthless white woman who’s been messing up his books while he's been messing with her!”
They both laughed loudly, and Don joined them, happy to see that their moods had lightened. “Can I get you two anything else?”
“I think we’re good, Don,” Martin answered. “I’ve got to get into the Sentinel bright and early tomorrow morning to work on my research. Of course, I have some help…”
“Who’s helping you with this, Martin?” Sharla asked, alarmed. “Can you trust them?”
“I think so,” he answered. “It’s Shirley Campbell, our receptionist. She got a little curious about my project when I asked for the key to the storage shed where we keep all the back issues of the newspaper. For some reason, she really wants to help me.”
“Shirley Campbell?” Don asked. “She wants to help you?”
“That’s her,” Martin replied, a little concerned by Don’s tone. “Why? What about her?”
“Oh, nothing really," Don replied, a little too quickly. "I just don’t see either her as the type to want to ‘get involved’, you know? She and Greg pretty much keep to themselves and like to be left alone.”
Martin was about to agree but still defend his helper when Sharla piped in. “Wait a minute. Shirley Campbell…isn't she connected to Talbot somehow?”
Don looked thoughtful and then decided to admit what he knew. “Frank Talbot's ex-wife, Beverly, is Shirley Campbell's older sister.”