The Long Ride Out | Page 4

heard him. Her gaze was level and penetrating. "What did my father tell you about me?"
"Said you'd been kidnapped by Britton."
She leaned back and smiled. "Well, I wasn't."
"I guess things around here are a bit complicated for me. Your father wants me to find you, and here you are right under his nose. He says Britton's his enemy, and they're the next thing to business partners."
"It's true Daddy doesn't know where I am. But that's because he doesn't ever come to town, except to the general store. I'm afraid you've come all the way from Dodge for nothing. I'll take care of him myself."
"Well, that's fine. But I'd still like to know a couple of things before I go. If you're daddy's not afraid of Britton, why's he so concerned about you?"
"He needs my signature so he can sell off my claim."
"Your claim?"
"I claimed a quarter section next to Daddy's five years ago. It's legal, all right. Daddy put me up to filing the claim and now he thinks he can just sell it to Britton. Only I don't want to sell. That's why I left, came to town where he can't get at me. If I'd of stayed out there he would of made me give it up...whether I wanted to or not."
"Your daddy hits you?" Marlin said.
"Only when he's drunk."
Marlin pushed back his plate and wiped his mouth. "I don't much care for a man beating up on a woman, family or no. But that ain't here nor there. If Britton's got no quarrel with your daddy, what's that gunslinger from Dodge doing here?"
"Wallace?" She was suddenly nervous. "There's...some kind of bad blood between Mr. Britton and Daddy. I don't know what it's about." She wouldn't look at Marlin.
"Why don't you tell me the truth?" he asked gently.
She stood up and brushed at her apron. "People got limits, mister. Ain't it about time for you to move on?"
*
At the bank next door, Marlin rapped on the teller's window. The building was as empty as the diner, with room enough for a big city's business. The one teller had his feet up on the counter and a green eyeshade pulled low. Marlin was becoming impatient for things to make sense.
"'Scuse me," Marlin said. "Who do I talk to about a loan?"
The teller, a thin man with a thin mustache, opened one eye and pointed toward a door.
The man in the back room had a well-fed look, garters on his sleeves, and a short haircut. He had a land map spread out on his desk, with law books holding down the corners. A stove in the corner gave off a cheerful heat.
Marlin said, "I'm just curious. I'm looking for a man who knows about money, somebody I could maybe put a couple of questions to."
The man looked flattered and said, "What sort of questions?"
"I wondered what land around here is going for. If I wanted to get me a spread here someday, how bad would it be likely to set me back?"
"Well," the banker said, "government land is a dollar and a quarter and acre, standard price. Then there's offered land, as they call it under homestead law, and that's yours for the taking. But I'll warn you, the last of the offered land went about five years ago. The government land is still around, but none of it close to town or the river. Good land could cost you up to five dollars an acre on the open market. There's a land office across the street, of course. They might be able to turn something up for you...?"
Marlin shook his head. "Sounds a bit out of my price range. Thank you just the same."
The banker stood up before Marlin got to the door. "There are, you know, other options..."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, you don't have to have cash, you see. The principals of the bank are quite willing to lend money with land as collateral."
"Really? Is that a common practice?"
"Of course. Just the other day...well, I couldn't go into any details, you understand. But yes, it's not uncommon at all."
"How much per acre are we talking about?"
The banker shrugged modestly. "Perhaps as high as...five dollars an acre? Maybe higher?"
"Even for land that didn't cost that much in the first place? You could still borrow as high as five an acre against it?"
"I don't quite see what you're driving at, but yes. The railroad has brought civilization to these parts, and civilization is the magic elixir that turns land into money. God's not going to be making much more land than we got, I figure, so this bank's willing to take a risk on the best of it."
*
Marlin pulled up a few hundred yards from Kraamer's house. The front door was slightly ajar and only a thin line of smoke