Etta looked at the stack of folders on her desk. She needed the county prosecutor to follow through with her investigation, and that meant she needed William. Alienating him now would only facilitate the embezzler. She’d face the question of marrying William later. “I visited all of our clients who have farm and ranch loans. Every one of them reported that a representative from the bank has been collecting their payments and issuing receipts.”
“Is that standard practice?”
“No. Most borrowers make payments whenever they are in town.”
“Why don’t they simply mail in the payments?”
“Mail service isn’t available in the more rural areas. The farmers and ranchers usually pick up their mail when they come into town.”
“I should have thought of that. I guess you can tell I’m a city boy. Why did the bank decide to start collecting the payments?”
“We didn’t. The clients I spoke to this morning told me that Uncle Carl came to their places to make collections.”
William’s face crumpled in sympathy. “Oh, Henrietta. Your uncle?”
Etta nodded.
“Your uncle has been collecting payments, issuing receipts, and keeping the money for himself?” William’s tone communicated his incredulity at Carl’s brash thievery.
“That’s the way it looks,” Etta replied. “He also recorded the payments in the ledgers. But when Arthur Lewis became head of the loan department, Arthur began keeping his own record of payments received. If he hadn’t, this discrepancy might not have shown up for many, many months.”
“Did Carl know about Mr. Lewis’s separate record of payments?”
“Apparently not. As I told you during the last meeting of the board, Mr. Lewis was the one who called the problem to my attention. The auditor I hired confirmed that it’s been happening for over a year. Also, the clients I talked with this morning described a young, pretty, fashionably dressed woman who accompanied him. Uncle Carl introduced me to a friend of his from Austin who matches that description, but I can’t remember her name.”
“It won’t be hard to find out. Carl loves to brag and all I have to do is steer him in that direction and he’ll tell me all about her. Then we may be able to convince her to testify against Carl.” William propped his elbow on the edge of her desk and rested his head in his hand. “What about you, Henrietta? Are you prepared to see your uncle prosecuted for this crime and perhaps sent to prison?”
Etta rubbed her forehead, as though she could erase the headache that bloomed like a malodorous flower. “I don’t know,” she said on a long breath. “Do I have a choice?”
“We can always hope that he’ll confess. Once we present all of our evidence, he may see he has no way out. There’s also the possibility of offering him a reduced sentence if he confesses.”
A pinpoint of hope lit the gloomy horizon. “You mean there’s a chance he wouldn’t have to go to prison?”
William dimmed that faint hope. “I don’t know about that, Henrietta. Embezzlement is a serious crime. I need to look over the evidence, but if I find enough to prosecute the case, my next step would be to confront Carl at the upcoming meeting of the bank’s Board of Directors.”
“Perhaps the board could recommend an appropriate punishment.”
“Perhaps, but the punishment phase is handled by the judge. I can make a recommendation, but the ultimate decision is his alone.”
“Would Judge Thompson be involved?”
“Probably not. He should recuse himself from this case since he is acquainted with the parties involved.”
Etta’s head was pounding. “It’s so complicated.”
“Yes it is,” William said. “And it can be quite unseemly. That’s why ladies don’t involve themselves with such distasteful matters.” How artfully he’d turned the discussion back to his original point.
Etta pushed the folders toward William. “I wrote up a summary of my findings and made copies of the pertinent information for you. Will you let me know what you decide?”
“Let me take this tribulation from you, sweetheart. I’ll take care of everything from this point on. Now…” William gently touched her sleeve. “…when would be a good time for me to speak to your father?”
“Oh, William, I can’t…what I mean is…Can it wait until this business with Uncle Carl is finished? When I tell my father about the embezzlement, I also want to be able to tell him that the problem has been resolved.”
“Poor Henrietta. So much to bear on such delicate shoulders.” William patted her arm. “Very well. I’m anxious to have our engagement made public, but I understand your desire to see this matter to its finish.” William stood, bent down to kiss Etta’s forehead, and tucked the folders under his arm.
As he left, the pain in Etta’s head traveled down her neck and established camp in her shoulders. First things first. She needed to settle the issue of Carl’s thievery before she told William of her misgivings about marrying him.
If only Gabriel hadn’t come back from his trip as cold as January frost. She’d pinned so many of her hopes on him, but he’d woken her from those foolish dreams. He obviously didn’t have the same tender feelings about her that she had for him.
Her mother had always said that the Lord would guide her toward the right man, but she’d been crushingly wrong about Gabriel. Was William the right man? And if the Lord was guiding her toward William, then why did her stomach roil at the thought of life with him?
****
Gabriel seated himself behind the steering wheel of his father’s truck and offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving. The state highway department had offered him a job and a salary of twelve hundred dollars a year. Although he didn’t know for sure, that was probably more than his parents had made in any year. He’d be able to buy an automobile and still put a fair amount in savings.
Gabriel drove through the crowded streets of Austin until he reached the narrow road that led home. For the first time since he’d come back, he had a future to plan for. The new job would require some travel, but Burnet was centrally located and would make a good home base. Once he’d saved enough money, he could begin building a house for himself and the family he’d always assumed he’d have.
Would memories of France continue to haunt him in the future? He’d never forget his squad. Even if he did surrender the guilt, remembering his comrades was the smallest honor he could give. But as the years passed and his life led him in a new direction, he hoped the pain would diminish. Would he be able to look at sugar and not think of Nichols? Would thunder always send him running for cover?
Just outside of the city, Gabriel crossed the recently built bridge over the Colorado River. With cement piers supporting trussed deck arches, it was the latest in bridge design. Someday, he would be on the engineering team that conceived such bridges. He could take his children to the site and explain how his team had outwitted the forces of compression, tension, torque, and shear.
But he couldn’t have that family without a wife, and he couldn’t have the wife he wanted.
On impulse, Gabriel swerved off the highway and followed the gravel road that lead under the bridge. He stopped the truck and turned off the engine. Quiet assaulted his ears.
What was he doing down here? He’d told his parents he’d be back by supper time, and yet something had convinced him to do some sightseeing. Gabriel got out of the truck and walked along the banks of the wide, blue-green river, the scent of clean water filling his nostrils. Cliff swallows chattered like quarrelsome children as they darted in and out of the mud nests they’d built under the bridge. Gabriel squatted to watch tiny frogs that dared to venture away from the water in search of their afternoon meals.
He settled into a spot beneath a pecan tree and watched the ceaseless flow of the river toward the southeast. A gentle breeze cooled his brow and his eyelids grew heavy. He removed his hat and stretched out on the sun-warmed grass.
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
That was one of the many Bible passages he’d had to memorize as a boy. Maybe the writer of that Psalm had been sitting beside a river like this when the idea came to him.
He restoreth my soul.
Did Gabriel’s soul need to be restored? His mother thought so. She’d say it was the Lord who had turned the truck off the highway just so Gabriel could have a quiet place to think. Although that wasn’t his problem. He expended a lot of energy avoiding troublesome thoughts.
He’d been wrong the last time he thought the Lord had sent him a message. Gabriel had believed he needed to seek forgiveness from the families of his fallen comrades, but he’d apparently been wrong. Again. How in the world could Gabriel forgive himself for leading men to their deaths?
Did you shoot him?
Gabriel chuckled at the remembrance of Mrs. Patek’s brash question. She hadn’t been afraid to address the heart of the problem. She didn’t blame him for Joe’s death, and she wouldn’t chastise him for his poor decision. He’d been in battle, and disasters happened in battle.
Still, it had been his indecision that kept the men in the line of fire. That was the one point he couldn’t get past. He’d probably celebrate his sixtieth birthday still regretting that one day in France. Of course, if he didn’t overcome the guilt, he’d be alone on his sixtieth birthday—no wife, no children, and probably no friends.
Gabriel sprang to his feet and paced along the pebbled bank. If only Etta had waited for him to figure everything out. Of course, if he could manage to forgive himself, he could also tell Etta how much he’d come to love her.
Gabriel’s pacing came to an abrupt halt. Was there still a chance? She wasn’t married yet. If he could forgive himself, he could move forward. Nothing would restore his comrades’ lives, but forgiving himself seemed to be the only way Gabriel could have a chance to restore his future.
“I forgive myself.” The whisper struggled to pass through his constricted throat. “I forgive myself,” Gabriel repeated, the words coming slightly easier. “I followed my commander’s orders. Even if I’d moved farther east or even headed back toward base camp, we might have still been hit.” He’d said the words, but Gabriel felt no great relief. “Well,” he said, heading back to his truck, “at least it was a start.”
He would have to do a lot more thinking and a lot more praying before he could shrug off the guilt and grief his mistake had cost.
14
Etta looked at the sober faces of the men gathered around the conference table. By the end of this meeting, she’d know whether she would continue acting as bank president or if the Board of Directors would appoint someone else to do the job. She’d tried to steel herself for bad news, but every cell in her body seemed to tremble with nerves.
Judge Thompson called the meeting to order. “We convene today in special session to discuss the matter of a shortfall in the bank’s accounts. Are you ready, Mrs. Swanson?”
Carolina nodded. “I typed up the minutes from the last meeting. Would you like me to read them now?”
“Can we dispense with the regular procedure?” asked James Moore. “I need to get back to the store.”
“Always in a hurry,” teased Mayor Robinson. “Can’t your employees get by without you for a few hours?”
Judge Thompson rapped his knuckles on the table. “All right, gentlemen. If time is a concern, let’s skip the minutes and turn this meeting over to our county prosecutor. William, you said you had some information to share with us.”
A week had passed since Etta had given her information to William.
Uncle Carl had come into the bank every day with his usual genial smile and flirtatious manner. Did he have no conscience at all? Her mother had been honest, respectable, and upright in every way, but her mother’s brother had betrayed people’s trust and deceived his family.
William stood, removed his watch from his vest pocket, and opened it. After placing it on the table next to a stack of documents, he cleared his throat and addressed the group. “Thank you, Judge. As I’m sure you all remember, Miss Davis disclosed a problem in the loan department during our last meeting. It was decided she would investigate the matter further and report back to us. She met with clients whose accounts were past due and discovered that an employee of the bank had collected the payments and issued receipts. However, he pocketed the payments. In an attempt to hide his theft, he entered the payments in the bank’s ledgers. However, when Arthur Lewis became manager of the loan department, he kept a separate ledger that reflected the true payments. That’s how the embezzlement was discovered.” William paused for a drink of water.
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” James Moore said. “Who was it?”
“Carl Stanley,” William answered in a calm, confident voice.
The men’s surprise was evident in the silence that met William’s announcement.
Carolina caught Etta’s gaze and nodded. Apparently, Carolina had had her own suspicions about Uncle Carl.
“That snake in the grass,” Mayor Robinson said in a quiet voice. “I would’ve never thought…”
“Are you sure about this?” Judge Thompson asked.
“Quite sure,” William answered. “I followed up on Miss Davis’s discovery. All the borrowers confirmed that Carl had made personal visits in order to collect their payments. Furthermore, Carl has a lady friend, a Miss…” William referred to his notes. “Miss Florence Edwards of Austin. I spoke with Miss Edwards myself, and she readily verified that she had accompanied Carl while he conducted bank business. Once I explained that she was in danger of being charged as an accomplice, she quickly disclosed that Carl had opened a bank account in her name, but she avows that she’s never accessed the funds. ”
James Moore shook his head. “Of all the underhanded, devious tricks. What happens next, William? Will you arrest Carl?”
William ignored Mr. Moore’s question and directed his attention to the entire group. “If you recall, Carl suggested that he would be the best person to fill in as bank president during Henry Davis’s absence.”
“Fat chance of that happening,” Mayor Robinson said.
“Nevertheless, we agreed to meet with Carl to discuss the matter at a later date. I took the liberty of informing him about today’s meeting. He should be here in…” William looked at his watch. “…in approximately ten minutes.”
“You’re going to confront him with the evidence?” Judge Thompson asked.
“That is correct. The sheriff and a deputy are standing by, ready to arrest Carl once this meeting is over. But I didn’t want to waste the opportunity to question him with all of the members of the board present.”
James Moore spoke. “What are the chances of recovering the missing funds?”
“That’s one of the issues I intend to speak to Carl about. With any luck, Miss Edwards’s bank account will contain most of the stolen funds. I am in the process of requesting a warrant to access that information. Since the account is in a bank in Austin, I had to go through the court in Travis County.”
“You’re going to corner that rat and hope he confesses?” asked Mayor Robinson.
A small smile crossed William’s lips. “That is my plan.”
Judge Thompson rubbed his chin. “It might work. Carl Stanley has always been interested in what people think of him. The threat of being disgraced may just be enough to push him over the edge.” A long minute of silence followed Judge Thompson’s statement.
William resumed his seat, took another drink of water, and gazed out the nearby window.
Mayor Robinson was the first to break the quiet. “While we’re waiting for Carl, I’d like to discuss whether Miss Davis should be allowed to continue acting as bank president. I called on Henry today.”
Etta sat up in her chair. No one had told her the mayor had been out to the house. Had her father been ready to receive visitors?
“I know,” Mayor Robinson said, glancing at Etta, “I probably should have checked with you first. But I wanted to se
e for myself how long it will be until your father returns to the bank. I have to tell you, gentlemen, I don’t foresee Henry resuming his position for many months.”
James Moore interrupted the mayor. “Where are you going with this, Edgar?”
“I’d like to throw my full support behind Miss Davis,” the mayor answered. “There’s no one better suited for the job, and she’s handled this embezzlement mess with admirable efficiency.”
“I agree,” James Moore said. “I have no qualms about leaving Miss Davis in charge until her father feels up to returning. What about you, Judge?”
Judge Thompson’s bushy white eyebrows rose as he looked at Etta. “Do you want to continue, Miss Davis?”
Etta cleared her throat before answering. She wanted to make sure her voice didn’t reveal how nervous she was. “Yes, Judge Thompson.”
“There’s one thing we haven’t considered,” William said. “Henrietta acted as her father’s assistant and was able to step in when he became incapable of continuing. If she chooses to step down, there is no one to take her place.”
“Why would she choose to step down?” Mayor Robinson asked. “She just said she wanted to remain.”
William glanced at Etta and smiled. “Miss Davis is a young woman, gentlemen. She may want to get married someday.”
The other men all looked away or squirmed in their chairs, apparently embarrassed that they’d never considered Etta’s marriage prospects.
“I see your point,” the mayor said. “Miss Davis needs an assistant.”
“Precisely,” William replied. “The bank has never had a vice-president, but this experience shows us that one is needed.”
“Who would you recommend for such a position, Etta?” asked Judge Thompson.
Etta only needed a few seconds to come up with an answer. “The most suitable candidates would be Mrs. Swanson or Arthur Lewis. Mrs. Swanson has worked here for many years and knows all of the bank’s procedures. Mr. Lewis has taken great initiative since taking charge of the loan department.”
A Thousand Little Blessings Page 21
