Reind had a busy morning. He had two cows in labor and the vet was coming. Each time he passed the phone, however, he tried to call Henry. He had two important bits of information to give him.
Henry couldn't be reached because he was on the phone all morning with people he had known in the Belgian horse circles. He tried to buy back a mare he had sold to a friend in Iowa but she was too good. Her foal sold for well over $10,000.00 as a yearling. Henry was advised to check out an Amish man near Milan Center, Indiana and the spring and fall sales in Topeka, Indiana. Henry would check out the Amish man. He'd rather buy directly from the breeder so that he could also see the dam and the sire. He wasn't in that big a hurry. If he had three or four good brood mares and at least one stallion by spring, he'd be happy. He'd decided to take his time. It could be two or three years before he had a hitch ready for show. The breeding and training were as enjoyable as the shows. He was excited. As a kid he'd loved horses, especially those big Belgians.
Reind came over after he had eaten his lunch. Henry was extremely interested in the manner in which Kate Burtch had handled the Troller's money. If the state checks had been written to her, both she and Mervin Gross were probably guilty of fraud.
Henry thought hiring Ces was an excellent idea. He'd call Marybeth Marshall and see if one of her "social" clubs could help out at the group home. They seemed always to be looking for some charitable thing to do and if Marybeth was involved one knew the charity would be for the benefit of the recipient, not the newspaper.
Mervin Gross was anxious about his 2:30 appointment with Henry Schmidt. The man was no longer judge but Mervin had seen a side of Henry that frightened him. What did the man want? Should he be congenial or do the typical child bureaucrat thing and be condescending and stonewall the bastard.
That momentary mental confusion had been foolish. Condescending arrogance is a job requirement for employment in any state children's bureaucracy. Mervin could have courteously fallen back on the old bureaucratic standard, child privacy, but he was a Child Protection Service bureaucrat so he acted like one. "You are no longer judge in this county so what Kate Burtch has done or will do is none of your damn business."
"It's been nice to talk with you, too, Mervin. Don't go away. I'll be back in a minute."
Since Henry still occasionally served as judge, he maintained a police radio in his car. He requested that the communications center patch him through to Ruth Mean in Madison. Are all these people obnoxious? Ruth didn't use profanity but since she was the State Director of Children's Services, she had refined the arts of snobbish put-down and sarcasm. Her insults were, at least, refined.
Henry's next call was to an old Milwaukee law partner, now the State Attorney General.
"Good to talk to you Hank. Let me do some checking and get back to you. I'll get back in fifteen minutes."
"Thanks! Call me at Mervin Gross' office here in Jefferson."
Henry walked unannounced into Mervin's office and sat down. He said nothing.
"Dr. Schmidt, we have nothing more to talk about. I'm busy. Now, get out."
"Oh, just go right ahead, Merv. Don't let me bother you. I'm just waiting for a phone call."
That last remark rattled Mervin. What was this guy up to? After fumbling with papers for five minutes and not being able to keep his mind focused, Merv mustered what little bravado there was in that pusillanimous heart of his and said, "Now see here, Schmidt, if you don't leave now I call the sheriff and have him put you out".
"Just be patient a few more minutes, Merv. After I get this call, he can put me out and take you to jail. Let's save the man a trip."
When Merv did answer the phone, he listened a few minutes and turned a ghastly white. A check with the State Treasurer's office showed that checks had been written with the approval of Mervin Gross to an Emma K. Burtch and that no person by that name was listed as an employee of the State of Wisconsin nor was there any such person licensed as a foster parent.
After a brief chat with Henry, John Miller asked again to speak with Merv. Poor Merv was trembling, nodding his head and saying, "Yes, yes, yes".
In short, Mervin Gross was complicit in fraud and if he remained silent and was cooperative in the investigation of E. Kathryn Burtch, John would see what he could do about a plea bargain.
Within two days, Marybeth Marshall seemed to have every woman in Jefferson mobilized. A schedule of who was to be at the group home and when was distributed and Ces got his Grünfelder whites.
The Jefferson Elementary School instrumental music teacher called Henry to inform him that Marty showed talent and would profit from private lessons. There was no one in Jefferson who taught trumpet so Henry checked around in Madison. One of the music stores had studio rooms that were rented to teachers of various instruments. The trumpet teacher had an open slot at 6:30 on Tuesdays.
When Larry found out that Marty was taking private lessons, he prevailed on his parents to let him take saxophone lessons. Of course, Reind was quick to agree and, as it happened, that teacher also had a Tuesday early evening slot open. Henry and Betje took turns driving. Henry thanked his lucky stars that that sax was a half-mile down the road. He didn't know why but that reedy sound always grated on his nerves.
While all of this was happening, Marty was constantly reminding Henry of his school Christmas program. "You just gotta' come, Uncle Henry. You gotta'"
"Marty!"
"Oh, ya, please come."
"I wouldn't miss it Little Bird."
Henry also kept in touch with Sarah Collins. She wasn't making much progress with Stevie. He was still much more worried about his peers thinking him queer than what had happened to him. She wasn't even sure that he felt what had happened to him was that bad. He had observed sexual activity of various kinds his entire life and so far as he knew, that's just what people did. What Virgil did did not concern the boy as much as what people might call him because of what Virgil did. The boy seemed, however, to be sinking deeper into manic-depression. She'd just keep working with him.
As Christmas drew nearer, Marty was in one perpetual Marty Moment. Marty Moments were not now just animated exuberance. There was some of that but now they seemed to be joy, constant, enthralling, consuming joy. Marty was a happy, witty kid and that happiness and wit was contagious. When Marty was around, you were happy. You couldn't help it.
Marty knew about holidays now and he knew about presents but he also knew about love and the ecstasy of having the people you love around you. Marty knew that they were not going to be in Jefferson on Christmas day. He had known for months that Uncle Henry and he were going to Hawaii but he made clear to his Uncle Henry that he wasn't going anywhere until they had another Thanksgiving-like day. Presents were fun to get but he already had more stuff than he knew with to do with. You could never get enough of having people who love you around.
But before their Christmas celebration and before their trip to Hawaii was the school Christmas program. The week before the program, Marty called Uncle Henry every day to be sure that Henry remembered. "Tell Uncle Reind and Aunt Betje and Larry that they gotta' come too. - Uh - I mean tell them to please come.
"Uncle Ces and Aunt Myrt are coming 'cause all us kids are in the program and I know that Uncle Dex and Aunt Marybeth are coming because David's in the program. Will you please ask Uncle Jerry and Aunt Cindy to come and bring Timmy?"
Henry had never been to an elementary school Christmas program. He wasn't sure what to expect. He and the Friesemas arrived at the same time as the Marshalls. They sat in the same row. Dex was insistent that Henry sit in the aisle seat.
Each grade, starting with Kindergarten sang a song. All the kids were cute and the singing good. All the teachers seemed to think everyone had come to watch them pull kids from here and put them there for no obvious reason other than to be seen. Dex whispered in Henry's ear. "It's the same every year. They all have to have their thirty seconds of fame."
But it was a good program. When the fourth grade came to the stage, Marty craned his neck until he found Uncle Henry and then he threw back his head and sang heartily.
The last two items on the program were the band and the fifth grade choir. Henry expected a cacophony from fourth and fifth graders but Santa Claus is Coming to Town was completely recognizable and really quite good. Most of the kids sounded as good as Marty. Well - actually, nobody was as good as Marty but they weren't bad.
The choir was to sing three songs. Mrs. Bloom announced that the choir was made up of selected voices but they sounded like the rest of the groups except for an occasional few bars of alto thrown in.
The program listed the last song as The Little Drummer Boy with special guest soloist. Henry had not sung that song in school as a child but it was currently getting a lot of radio play. Probably just written.
The choir lunched in to with what seemed an endless round of "Pa rum pa pom poms". Eventually Mrs. Bloom signaled quiet and the "Pa rum pa pom poms" continued but at a greatly reduced volume. From the wings came the Little Drummer Boy in full costume: plumed green hat, red vest, white shirt, green knickers and stadium style drum. MARTY!
Henry's Little Bird walked to the mike. "I'm Marty Toliver. I'm in the fourth grade. Your kids probably told you I used to be the poor kid. Before I didn't know anything about Christmas or love or nothin' - uh - I mean nothing. Mrs. Bloom said I could say this because now I know a whole lot about love. She said I could dedi - - . What was that word again?"
"Dedicate."
"Oh ya, that." People laughed but that didn't phase Marty.
"Anyway, I'm singing this song for everybody but mostly for my Uncle Henry who I love and who loves me a lot."
Henry had no idea his Little Bird could sing like that. His was not the too trained voice of a Vienna Choirboy. It was the lusty voice of a ten-year-old but with high tones that would make any Vienna Choirboy jealous.
Henry buried his face in Dex's shoulder and quietly sobbed. Dex leaned over and said, "Now who's the pussy cat?"
When the song ended the audience burst into applause. When Marty jumped from the stage and ran into Henry's arms - sheer pandemonium. God, Henry loved that boy!
In the months to follow, Mrs. Bloom seemed to feel that she was Marty's agent. Marty had been such a hit that she wanted to bask in some of his glory. She arranged several performances for him at churches, social clubs, etc. With her help and that of Aunt Marybeth, he developed quite a repertoire but did not always make Meg Bloom happy. She would have moved him toward the classical - made a little choirboy of him. Neither Henry nor Marty and particular Marybeth Marshall would allow that. Marybeth, who, herself was a trained musician, and Henry loved that lusty, natural little boy voice and were not about to let Meg Bloom train that robust gusto out of Marty's voice. Marty preferred regular hymns in churches but pop and country were his real thing. They were also, by the way, what most of the people in Jefferson County loved to hear him sing. He became quite a local star. His rendition of Ridin' Down the Canyon would have made Gene Autry proud.