Read Online Crazy Woman Creek by Virginia Welch - Free Book Online
Authors: Virginia Welch
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returning East, Mr. Morehouse. Wyoming Territory is my home now.” Unthinkable. Going back to New York without James, leaving their land behind. Abandoning their dream. God forbid.
“What are your plans if your husband does not return?”
“I can’t make plans until I know how much money is in our account, Mr. Morehouse.”
“Of course.” That seemed to wake up the banker. He opened the ledger and flipped through the pages. He ran his finger down a column and then stopped. “Your savings account shows a balance of just over three hundred dollars, Mrs. Rose. Three hundred twenty-two dollars and fifteen cents.”
Lenora’s heart sank. Three hundred twenty-two dollars. She had land. She was not poor. But three hundred dollars wouldn’t last long if she had to pay a ranch hand. Perhaps this is why James was dead set against hiring Sam Wright, the day laborer who was always pestering local ranchers for work. Lenora had asked James, begged him many times to hire someone to help him with the grinding chores of a growing cattle ranch. He resisted every time.
“We have just the one account, Mr. Morehouse?”
“Just the one.” Mr. Morehouse shut the ledger. “Of course, you’re not without options, Mrs. Rose.”
Options? Lenora felt a brief flutter of hope.
The banker stood up and walked around the corner of his desk. He dragged the remaining visitor’s chair closer to Lenora and sat down, easing his generous behind between the two arms, which creaked slightly as he moved. Through his large office window flanked by burgundy velour drapes fastened with gold cord, Lenora saw the twice weekly Wells Fargo stagecoach pull up noisily and stop in front of the bank. Idly she wondered if Mr. Morehouse’s office was situated where it was for that very view.
“Options such as what?”
Mr. Morehouse leaned forward a bit as if he had a secret to share. Lenora picked up the spicy scent of after-shave mingled with stale cigar.
“You can always sell your land. You own it free and clear. Or at least you will in less than two years, when you’ve fulfilled your homestead obligations.”
Lenora nodded sullenly. She may have been hazy about their financial accounts, but she knew very well the details of how they acquired their ranch. Free land had so excited her and James before they left New York, it was all they had talked about during their betrothal. It was all any young, adventurous eastern couple talked about in those long ago, carefree days.
“Your husband was a smart homesteader, Mrs. Rose. He chose one of the best parcels before they got all gobbled up by the big ranches. Having that North-East Creek run across your whole eastern edge—might as well be liquid gold flowing across your property.”
“You are right, Mr. Morehouse. My husband is a smart homesteader,” said Lenora, correcting his tense. “Too smart to sell.”
Mr. Morehouse flinched as if she’d spat on him. “I don’t mean to insult, Mrs. Rose.”
“Of course not.”
“But you will have to make some difficult choices by and by, if your husband does not return.”
Well that was true. But selling their homestead was not one of them.
“All of your wealth is tied up in that land. How else will you manage if you don’t sell?”
I have no idea . Right now all she could think of was how much more bulbous Mr. Morehouse’s fleshy nose looked now that he was sitting directly across from her instead of behind his desk. And how tired she was of men in this town second-guessing her. And how she needed money to hire a ranch hand.
“We’ll see what the future brings,” she said, unsmiling. She stood up to leave.
Mr. Morehouse stood up too. “In the meanwhile, Mrs. Rose, if there’s anything I can do, or the bank can do, to assist you during this difficult time, I hope you will contact me immediately. We are here to help.”
“What I would like, Mr. Morehouse, is to withdraw fifty dollars from our account.”
#
Lenora clutched her navy
“What are your plans if your husband does not return?”
“I can’t make plans until I know how much money is in our account, Mr. Morehouse.”
“Of course.” That seemed to wake up the banker. He opened the ledger and flipped through the pages. He ran his finger down a column and then stopped. “Your savings account shows a balance of just over three hundred dollars, Mrs. Rose. Three hundred twenty-two dollars and fifteen cents.”
Lenora’s heart sank. Three hundred twenty-two dollars. She had land. She was not poor. But three hundred dollars wouldn’t last long if she had to pay a ranch hand. Perhaps this is why James was dead set against hiring Sam Wright, the day laborer who was always pestering local ranchers for work. Lenora had asked James, begged him many times to hire someone to help him with the grinding chores of a growing cattle ranch. He resisted every time.
“We have just the one account, Mr. Morehouse?”
“Just the one.” Mr. Morehouse shut the ledger. “Of course, you’re not without options, Mrs. Rose.”
Options? Lenora felt a brief flutter of hope.
The banker stood up and walked around the corner of his desk. He dragged the remaining visitor’s chair closer to Lenora and sat down, easing his generous behind between the two arms, which creaked slightly as he moved. Through his large office window flanked by burgundy velour drapes fastened with gold cord, Lenora saw the twice weekly Wells Fargo stagecoach pull up noisily and stop in front of the bank. Idly she wondered if Mr. Morehouse’s office was situated where it was for that very view.
“Options such as what?”
Mr. Morehouse leaned forward a bit as if he had a secret to share. Lenora picked up the spicy scent of after-shave mingled with stale cigar.
“You can always sell your land. You own it free and clear. Or at least you will in less than two years, when you’ve fulfilled your homestead obligations.”
Lenora nodded sullenly. She may have been hazy about their financial accounts, but she knew very well the details of how they acquired their ranch. Free land had so excited her and James before they left New York, it was all they had talked about during their betrothal. It was all any young, adventurous eastern couple talked about in those long ago, carefree days.
“Your husband was a smart homesteader, Mrs. Rose. He chose one of the best parcels before they got all gobbled up by the big ranches. Having that North-East Creek run across your whole eastern edge—might as well be liquid gold flowing across your property.”
“You are right, Mr. Morehouse. My husband is a smart homesteader,” said Lenora, correcting his tense. “Too smart to sell.”
Mr. Morehouse flinched as if she’d spat on him. “I don’t mean to insult, Mrs. Rose.”
“Of course not.”
“But you will have to make some difficult choices by and by, if your husband does not return.”
Well that was true. But selling their homestead was not one of them.
“All of your wealth is tied up in that land. How else will you manage if you don’t sell?”
I have no idea . Right now all she could think of was how much more bulbous Mr. Morehouse’s fleshy nose looked now that he was sitting directly across from her instead of behind his desk. And how tired she was of men in this town second-guessing her. And how she needed money to hire a ranch hand.
“We’ll see what the future brings,” she said, unsmiling. She stood up to leave.
Mr. Morehouse stood up too. “In the meanwhile, Mrs. Rose, if there’s anything I can do, or the bank can do, to assist you during this difficult time, I hope you will contact me immediately. We are here to help.”
“What I would like, Mr. Morehouse, is to withdraw fifty dollars from our account.”
#
Lenora clutched her navy
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