It’ll keep rising tomorrow. chapter 2

Mr. Brown immediately regretted his decision. He thought that if he had asked for five thousand dollars, Jack might have still agreed. He realized that the value of the votes was likely to increase. He couldn’t accept the money now, or the price would stop rising. He planned to give Tom a hint the next day. So he pushed the money back to Jack and said repeatedly, “Let’s talk. On the day of the election, it’s a cash – for – votes deal. I keep my word.”

“Deal!” Jack put the money back in his pocket and left.

After seeing Jack off, Mr. Brown started humming the song again, “It’s a great day today…”

“Daydreamer!” His wife pointed at his bald head and complained, “You’re such a fool for not taking the money when it’s right in front of you!”

“You don’t understand a thing! Women are so short – sighted. The price will go up tomorrow!” Mr. Brown was eagerly waiting for the day when his six votes would turn into a fortune.

Finally, the day of the election arrived.

The election was scheduled for 1 p.m. Mr. Brown had half a bottle of local whiskey and headed to the village hall. Inside, a few people were sitting sparsely on the long benches. There was a large red ballot box on the stage. Two county officials in charge of the election greeted Mr. Brown and asked him to sign in and get his ballots.

Mr. Brown’s hand trembled with excitement as he signed his name. Just thinking that his signature was worth three thousand dollars made his heart race.

Holding the six ballots, Mr. Brown stood outside the hall, squinting his eyes, waiting for Jack to come with the money. Half an hour passed, and neither Jack nor Tom showed up. He couldn’t wait any longer. In half an hour, the voting would start. He rushed to Jack’s house.

Jack’s house was locked. Mr. Brown knocked on the wooden door loudly, but there was no answer. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and decided to go to Tom. He thought that even if the price was lower, he had to sell his votes. Time was running out, and once the election was over, the ballots would be worthless.

Just then, the loudspeaker started urging villagers to enter the hall for voting. Mr. Brown was as anxious as a cat on a hot tin roof. The six ballots in his hand were damp with sweat. Finally, he saw Jack on the bridge at the village entrance. He ran up to him and said, “Jack, here are the ballots for you.” Jack didn’t even turn around and said, “I don’t need them. Vote for Tom.”

Mr. Brown was stunned. Was the three – thousand – dollar deal gone just like that? At that moment, Tom appeared. Mr. Brown quickly stepped forward and asked obsequiously, “These ballots for you?” But Tom had the same reaction: “Forget it.”

Mr. Brown held out the six sweat – soaked ballots and pleaded, “Three hundred dollars?” Tom shrugged and shouted, “I wouldn’t take them even if you paid me three hundred dollars!”

“What?” Mr. Brown was completely confused. His beady eyes had never been so wide open.

“Look over there,” Tom pointed to the south side of the river. Mr. Brown followed his finger and saw a man setting up markers and another waving a small red flag and blowing a whistle.

Mr. Brown ran across the bridge and asked the young man with the red flag, “What are you doing?”

“Surveying for the highway,” the young man replied.

“Wasn’t the highway supposed to go through River North?”

“The route has been changed!” The young man shouted into Mr. Brown’s ear, afraid the wind would carry his voice away, “The highway will go through the south side of the river instead.”

“What?” Mr. Brown collapsed on the ridge of the field like a deflated balloon. He had no strength left. His beady eyes stared blankly at the six sweat – soaked ballots, and he sighed in regret, “What a loss, what a loss…”