He’d been in Galveston a few times when he’d been a Ranger. He was familiar with some of the streets and knew several of the residents. While he’d found the local police reluctant to share information with the Rangers, at least they had not been belligerent toward them.
A room, followed by a bath, food, and a few hours of sleep sounded like a good idea. Shifting his satchel from one hand to the other, he walked the few blocks from the train to a street he knew had a few boardinghouses. It would make it easier to blend into the town there than if he stayed at a hotel.
Louis looked over the ledger books again. They needed more investors. If they intended to keep paying the initial clients with the money from the most recent chumps, they had to dig up more business. Emily hadn’t been much help lately. He’d wanted her to cozy up to Margaret Statler, but the bitch claimed they’d never gotten the chance to talk about her money at the Women’s Club meeting. That was bullshit. Perhaps it was time for a little lesson in wifely duties.
He slammed the ledger book shut and shoved himself away from the desk. He rested his feet on the edge and contemplated his wife. It stuck in his craw that he didn’t know what she’d been doing all those months in Guthrie. He’d tried to beat it out of her, but she remained close-mouthed, which told him something happened there. If she’d been spreading her legs for some loser, he’d find out. Just as soon as this mess was cleared up with the business he’d hire someone to poke around up there and see what she’d been doing besides waiting on tables.
“Louis, we have to talk about the disaster looming.” His partner, Greg Sanders entered his office without knocking, just like he owned the place.
His gut tightened as he pondered the man. The idea of setting up this hoax with Sanders had seemed the right thing to do at the time, but now he wished he’d done it alone. Sanders was stupid and testy, and contributed nothing to the business in the way of bringing in new clients.
“What disaster is that, Sanders?”
“Don’t play games with me. We both know we can’t continue with this scheme. It’s worked for more than five years, but it’s done. We need to cut out, take the money we have with us and start over somewhere else.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I put a lot of effort into building a name for myself in Galveston. Unlike you, I’ve cultivated the elite of the town, and joined the best clubs. My wife is the darling of the city, and we live in one of the biggest and finest houses around. This is the life I was meant to have, and this is where I’m staying.”
“You’re forgetting we said from the start this would give us five, six years. We agreed to dissolve it all and start over.” Sanders leaned over the desk, his eyes panicky. “There’s rumbling the Market might be seeing a drop. If Wall Street takes a tumble, we’re dead.”
Louis eyed the man with disdain. “You worry too much. The Market is doing fine, and with a few more clients to shore things up, we’ll be solvent. Stop looking for a catastrophe around every corner.”
Sanders straightened and shook his head. “That’s what I get for going into business with a common criminal. I, at least, have some background in finance.”
Louis lunged forward and grabbed Sanders by the throat. “I might have been a common criminal, but I’ve made more money for you than that fancy college degree of yours ever did.” He released him, shoving him backward. “And don’t forget it.”
Chapter 8
The sun beat down on Hunter’s head as he walked from school to the bank where his father worked. In his hand he hel
d a note from his teacher, which Hunter had the feeling was another request for a meeting to discuss Hunter’s failures as a student. He hated having to deliver the note and seeing the disappointment in his father’s eyes. Why couldn’t he be smart like Michael, or Rachel, or Ellie? Why did all things relating to school seem to elude him?
Not wishing to have the entire family witness to his disgrace, it was better to see Papa at work. He pushed open the large bronze door to the Kansas Fidelity Bank where his father was Bank Manager. The bank was quiet, and Hunter nodded to Mrs. Abrams who left just as he arrived.
Hunter kept the note behind his back and approached his father’s desk. ‘Henry Henderson’ was engraved on the bronze plate above Papa’s desk. He put down his pen and smiled when Hunter grew near. “Good afternoon, son. What brings you here today?” He frowned and added, “Is everything all right at home?”
With one brother and two sisters and no Mama since she’d died of influenza, Hunter was aware that his father worried a lot about them being on their own while he worked. “Everything is fine.”
His father continued to smile at him, making Hunter shift from foot to foot. “Well, actually, I have something for you.” He held out the note.
Papa took the note and opened it. But instead of disappointment, his eyes reflected sympathy. “More trouble with your lessons?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Come here, son.” His father held out his arm and Hunter circled the desk until he stood next to Papa, snug against his side.
“I know school is harder for you than your brother and sisters. Every child is different, and I wish you could have as easy a time as they do. But you are Hunter, my second son. You are unique and the way you are is how God wanted you to be.”
“Why wouldn’t He want me to be better in school?”
His father chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Because most likely He has other things planned for you than an easier time at school.”
“Hands up!” The loud scraggy voice cut into their conversation.
Papa stood and pushed on Hunter’s head at the same time. “Duck under the desk and don’t come out until I tell you.”
Before he was shoved under the desk, Hunter saw two steely black eyes staring at the bank teller who had his hands in the air. His father walked slowly toward the robber, but flicked his glance at the teller. “Give him the money from your drawer.”
“Are you sure, sir?” The teller’s voice shook.