There was silence among the other farmers that lasted for several moments. Finally Zachary Steuban let out a nervous laugh. “We cain’t pay.”
“We got to pay,” Doss stated.
“Well…” Ed McKenna’s voice trailed off as he pondered the information. “He just cain’t do that to us. That’s all.”
“He can do it,” Doss Kearns said. “He wants us to pay up when them notes is due in ninety days.”
“That sorta puts a crimp in things, don’t it?” Buford Turnbull remarked.
“More’n that,” Doss replied. “It’s even worser than it sounds.”
“Hell!” Ed McKenna said. “I’ll have to turn in my new harness and plow. I’ll be making do with the old set.”
“He don’t want your new harness and plow, Ed McKenna,” Doss said. “And J.R. Dawkins, he don’t want your wagon.” He turned his glance to the others. “Nor your plow horse, Buford Turnbull. And, likewise, he’s got no yen for your crops next year, Zachary Steuban.”
“He don’t want my wagon?” J.R. Dawkins asked. “Hell, I got nothing else to pay up with. Just what does he want, Doss?”
“What he wants,” Doss answered, “is cash money.”
The small crowd let out a collective protest. Ed McKenna spoke up again. “Why, we cain’t get up enough between all of us to pay off even one of them notes. How’d he expect us to take care of each and ever’ one of ’em?”
“He don’t,” Doss Kearns said. “In fact, after talking with him, I figger he never expected us to be able to pay from the start.”
“Then why’d he loan us the money?” Zachary Steuban demanded to know.
Doss, who had been holding back his emotions with great effort, finally exploded, letting his deep voice thunder over the small crowd. “Because Banker Treadwell’s had his eyes on our farms ever’ since he come out here. He knowed we done most of our commerce by trade and barter, and that we didn’t have enough cash money on the Flats to work on a system of real buying and selling.”
“Aw, no, Doss!” J.R. Dawkins protested. “That just ain’t John Treadwell. No, sir!”
“The hell if it ain’t!” Doss retorted angrily. “He had cash money and moved in slicker’n an eel with his oily tongue and smooth manners just to get us in debt. And y’all remember why we borried the money from him in the first place, don’t you? It was ’cause he charged a lower rate of inter’st than the Union Bank we usually went to for loans. I recollect how surprised I was the way he’d loan out money on just about anything, but I figgered he was investing in the future like we was with our sweat and muscle.”
Zachary Steuban still wasn’t convinced. “I got an idee, Doss. Why don’t the bunch of us go to Dodge City and settle down for a heart-to-heart talk with Banker Treadwell. I bet if we’re real polite and truthful like, he’ll see things our way.”
The others shouted their agreement so loudly that Doss had to signal for quiet. The large man sighed. “I figger he’s follering orders from the bank owners back east. That’s how he had the cash money to loan us. Their idee was to get us in debt with the lower rate, then pull us in like hooked fish. That way they could get the land cheap and sell it dear.”
Buford Turnbull jumped up on the back of Doss’ wagon. “Now y’all simmer down, hear? I ain’t said nothing, but for the past few minutes there’s been entirely too much swearing. Remember y’all are in the presence of the House of the Lord. Cussing and breaking His commandments ain’t gonna do us no good at this point.”
“Let’s stick to business,” Ed McKenna said angrily.
“The Lord is my business,” Buford retorted. “And he should be your’n too, Ed. Maybe this whole situation is a message from him.”
Ed exclaimed, “If we don’t get them extension we’re wiped out. We got to do something about it!”
Buford raised his arms to the sky. “We shall pray, my brothers, and have faith that our Lord above will hear our plea and lift this burden from our hearts.”
Ben McKenna, who had been standing back watching and listening, snorted a laugh. “Ya’ll’d be better off robbing that bank.”
Doss spoke out again. “Ever’body just keep still. There ain’t nothing we can do right now anyhow. Let’s go home and do some hard thinking. Maybe Banker Treadwell will have a change of heart or something. We’ll hold another meeting after church Sunday and talk this over again.”
The others voiced their collective agreement, and the little group, with nothing more to discuss, began breaking up. Ben McKenna walked over to Doss Kearns. “I might know a way out of this trouble for y’all.”
Doss frowned. “You mean robbing the bank, like you suggested?”
“Nope. But I do know where some enterprising fellers might pick up on some gold.”
“We ain’t got time for prospecting,” Doss pointed out.
“This here gold don’t require no prospecting,” Ben said. “It don’t require no mining neither.”
“I ain’t a thief,” Doss said flatly. “By God, none of us are!”
“It’s an unusual situation,” Ben said. “It ain’t like stealing from normal hardworking folks. Fact of the matter is y’all might find the whole set-up to your liking.”
“It still sounds a might shady to me.”
“It prob’ly does,” Ben admitted. “But if things get bad enough just let me know.” He looked carefully around to make sure no one else was listening. “But I bet my brother Ed don’t lose his farm; not when I got this here answer to his problem. Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be around a few weeks more. See you later.”
“So long,” Doss said.
“It’s a sweet set-up,” Ben added as he turned to join Ed by the wagon.
“What’s a sweet set-up?” Ed asked as his brother walked up.
“I just happen to know of a place where the pickings is easy,” Ben said as he swung up in his saddle. “Maybe not much by some standards, but at least enough to help y’all out here on the Flats.”
“I don’t think we should make any plans ’til after we talk to Banker Treadwell.”
“Anything you say,” Ben replied
Ed made no further remarks as he began the drive back home. The two brothers rode along silently, each lost in thought as the prairie moon began its ascent into the wide, darkening Kansas sky.
Ed broke the silence with a question. “Ben you and me always got along good and I reckon that was because we never went out of our way to rile each other.”
Ben nodded in agreement.
“And I suppose we never pushed our noses into each other’s goings-on. But I been wanting to ask you something just the same though I don’t figger it’s any of my business.”
Ben shrugged. “Hell, go ahead and ask me anything you want.”
Ed let a moment slip by before he spoke again. “Well…you been spending quite some time on the other side of the law, ain’t you?”
Ben smiled. “That’s common knowledge in some parts.”
“I mean more’n just Saturday night fights in saloons,” Ed said. “It seems to me that—“
Ben interrupted. “I know what you want to say. And I got to be honest with you, Brother Ed. I’ve rode with some real hell-raisers and I’ll own up to taking a dollar or two at the point of a gun.”
“I suppose you was talking with Doss Kearns about something to do with a situation like that.”
“I was talking to him about stealing some gold.”
“Now that ain’t our style here on the Flats,” Ed declared. “It surely ain’t.”
“There’s more to it than meets the eye,” Ben explained. “Some unusual circumstances you might say. But let’s forget it for awhile. At least ’til after y’all find out how the situation here is gonna end up.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and things’ll iron out smooth on their own accord.”
“Don’t you believe it, Ed,” Ben said seriously. “That banker is gonna do more than nail your hides to the wall. He’s gonna scrape
and tan ’em first.”
“Let’s not worry Elviry too much about this.”
“I won’t say nothing,” Ben promised.
“Say, Ben,” Ed said hesitantly. He wanted to find out if his brother’s gun had ever been fired while taking that dollar or two he had mentioned. “Have you…what I mean to say is…aw, hell! Let’s get on home.”
“I’m with you,” Ben said jovially. “Unless you want to head up to Dodge to find a little relaxation and entertainment.”
Ed laughed aloud. “One of these days you’re gonna get me into a lot of trouble. Let’s just get back to the farm.”
~*~
The remainder of week passed slowly on Kiowa Flats. The people went about their farm chores numbly as the enormity of their potential losses came to a pessimistic realization. The farmers wondered if the fruits of their labor were to be picked up and enjoyed by someone else.
~*~
The little country church was a somber place that following Sunday. Forced smiles and half-hearted greetings were exchanged before the congregation of ten adults and sixteen children went inside to hear a sermon of hope to be preached by Buford Turnbull. He wisely kept the hymns down to only two that morning, knowing that his small flock would be in no mood for singing. After the benediction, the people filed out silently into the church yard where horses and wagons waited. The women and children would head back to their homes while the men gathered in the shade of the trees behind the church to hold another meeting.
Doss Kearns stood at the head of the group, his hands jammed deep into his pockets. He surveyed the farmers thoughtfully. “Well? Has anybody come up with an idee?”
He was answered by silence. A couple of the men had begun some aimless whittling on branches that had fallen from the cottonwood trees.
“I thought not,” Doss said. “I reckon the only thing to do is like we discussed. We’ll have a delegation go into town and talk with Banker Treadwell. Maybe there’s some way we can touch him or make him change his mind and grant extensions on them loans.”
“Who do you want to go in with you, Doss?” Zachary Steuban asked. It was already assumed Doss would be the head speaker.
“Lemme think,” Doss replied. He spent several moments studying the group. “I suppose since this affects ever’ damn one of us we might as well all go in. It might make a better impression anyhow.”
“What if he turns us down?” J.R. Dawkins asked.
“Then we’d best start packing,” Doss answered. “That’ll mean we ain’t got but ninety days left to live on the Flats.”
“Couldn’t we fight it out?” Zachary asked.
“We cain’t fight off a bank’s evil,” Doss stated emphatically. “There’s too much trickery and conniving for dirt farmers to overcome.”
“There’s got to be something legal we can do,” J.R. insisted.
“There is,” Doss conceded. “And we’re fixing to do it. Our last lawful and peaceable chance is to have that get-together with Banker Treadwell and get him to see things our way.”
“That sounds like begging,” Buford Turnbull complained.
“You’re damn right we’re begging!” Doss exclaimed. “I’ll get down on my knees and grovel if it’ll save my farm for me.” He remembered Ben McKenna’s offer. “Or any other way I might have to use.
Chapter Three
The Commerce Bank was new in Dodge City, Kansas. It was part of a banking chain headquartered in Boston, Massachusetts. The institution had recognized the financial possibilities west of the Mississippi River as the frontier became more populated and civilized.
The main office had dispatched John Treadwell to run the bank with Bernard Baldwin to act as his head teller. After setting up the new enterprise, Treadwell’s first order of business was to hire a bank guard. He wasn’t necessarily worried about being robbed, but the clandestine instructions he had been given on what the bank’s board of directors was expected of him in Kansas required an armed presence.
Treadwell made inquiries about town—including the town marshal’s office—regarding individuals with reputations as gunmen. He ended up engaging a Mister Lorimer Jacks for the position. Jacks’ usual work as a hired gun qualified him for the tasks that Treadwell had in mind. The tall, slim pistolero wore a carefully-trimmed beard under his hawk nose, and his jutting chin gave him the appearance of a no-nonsense individual with an aggressive disposition. Even the most casual observer could see that Jacks was capable of conducting himself ably in any dangerous situations.
~*~
It was midmorning on a Monday when Banker John Treadwell looked up from his desk toward the door that was being rapped with insistent knocking. “Yes?”
Chief Teller Bernard Baldwin stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. “The farmers from Kiowa Flats are out in the lobby, Mr. Treadwell. They are asking to see you.”
“How many of them, Baldwin?”
“It is all five of them, sir. From all appearances, I would say they are a delegation.”
Treadwell sighed. He was a large portly man with a wide face, cold eyes and a carefully tended goatee around his mouth and chin. He sported a diamond stick pin in his cravat while the gold chain of his expensive pocket watch was stretched across the ample front of his silk vest. He looked at Baldwin with a frown. “I am certainly not in the mood to hear their whining. But I suppose I must.”
“I can inform them that you are occupied, sir.”
“That won’t be necessary, Baldwin. Show the visitors in. But have Jacks accompany them. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Treadwell.”
The teller left the office, returning moments later with the farmers. Their combined rustic appearances of homespun clothing and heavy boots contrasted sharply with the fancy office furnishings of a large mahogany desk, deep carpeting and oak-paneled walls. Lorimer Jacks, conspicuously armed, followed after Doss and the others, stepping off to the side, standing by the back wall. Baldwin returned to his cage in the bank lobby.
Treadwell rose from his chair and reached out to offer his hand to each farmer. “How are you, Doss? And you, J.R.? Ed? Reverend Turnbull? And Zachary? I’ll have a couple of more chairs brought in and you can all sit down.”
“That’s all right,” Mr. Treadwell,” Doss said. “We’ll make do without any delay. I reckon you know what we’re here to talk about.”
Treadwell smiled as he settled back in his plush chair. “I suppose I do. You want to discuss those loans, don’t you?”
“We’re in a hell of a bind,” Doss said. “But it ain’t like there’s no way out for us. All we need is an extension on them notes as well as new loans to finance this year’s harvest. It looks like the weather is gonna be first rate for good crops. At the end of the summer, we’ll have the money to pay off the whole dang debt. So the bank’ll be happy too.”
Treadwell feigned deep thought for several moments as he tapped his plump fingers together. “I’ve been giving the matter the most consideration since I last spoke to you, Doss,” the banker said. “I’ve contacted my superiors back in Boston and laid it out on the line. I explained the hardships you suffered from the infestation of grasshoppers. I also explained your resilience and determination to succeed despite the set-back. I emphasized how you men were hard workers and, with the Good Lord willing, you could pull a paying crop out of river sand if you had to.”
Doss chuckled with the others. “Now I don’t know if we’re quite that good, Mr. Treadwell.”
“Boys, I have faith in you and I know you’re that good,” Treadwell said smiling. Then he sobered. “But I fear the bank’s directors do not share the faith in you that I have.”
“Then things ain’t working out,” Doss said.
“Sadly, no,” Treadwell replied. “I must call in those loans.”
“Then we ain’t got but one choice,” Doss said. “We’ll have to pay ’em off with goods and labor.”
“I’ve already explained to you that onl
y cash will be acceptable in this case,” Treadwell stated..
“You know there ain’t enough cash money on the Flats to do that,” Doss said. “We been took down by them hungry grasshoppers and we cain’t get up.”
“My friends,” Treadwell said. “My dear friends. My dear, dear friends. If it were only up to me, I would be most happy to grant those extensions along with additional loans. But, as I explained, I must answer to the bank’s investors. And I fear they were most hesitant about the extensions I made last year. And when they found out that I had even allowed several of the loans to be increased…well, you can imagine their reaction.”
“You know we’re good for it,” Doss said. “Couldn’t you tell ’em that? Tell ’em we can easy pay them notes off with a little more time.”
“I’m sorry—really.”
“Damn it! It’d be differ’nt if we didn’t have nothing going for us!” Doss angrily declared. “The only thing that’s beating us down is time. Just time. That’s all!”
“I understand,” Treadwell said. “But I’m helpless in this situation.”
Ed McKenna stepped forward angrily, his fists clenched. “Are you gonna take our land?”
“Only if the bank is forced to begin foreclosure proceedings,” Treadwell answered.
“I think that’s what you’re really after,” Ed said. “Maybe that was your plan all along; to keep granting them loans and waiting for something bad to happen to us like them grasshoppers destroying most of our crops before last year’s harvest.”
“I’m surprised you would think that of me,” the banker remarked with an expression of hurt on his face.
“That money you loaned us ain’t nowhere near worth what our property is now,” Ed continued. “What if we sold out to somebody else and paid you off? At least we’d have profits to show for our time.”
The Devil's Bonanza (A Piccadilly Publishing Western Book Page 2
