Sunday turned out a glorious day. Simon picked up Sarah at one o’clock sharp, and they retraced the steps they’d taken weeks before. Same spot, same kind of sandwiches, same blanket. Only this time, they talked like they had not seen each other in months: about the Texans, and Buell and the herd; and Simon’s new job at the store; and Miss Everett; and what they wanted to do when they were older; and why dandelions grew where flowers wouldn’t; and how to take an egg from a chicken without getting pecked. Completely talked out, they ended lying together, on the blanket, with Sarah’s head on Simon’s arm, both sound asleep.
The ache in Simon’s arm finally woke him. His eyes popped open to look right into Sarah’s face. Her lips slightly parted, a wisp of damp hair stuck to her forehead. The look of contentment and peace on her face made Simon’s breath catch in his throat—she was beautiful. He lay still and admired up close every feature of her familiar face. As he did, it occurred to him that it was not that familiar. He had never had the chance to look this carefully without being embarrassed.
He so wanted to touch her smooth and flawless skin; instead, he marveled at the shape of her eyelashes. Evenly spaced, they tapered from the eyelid where they glistened with oil, curving upward to almost disappear in an incredibly fine tip. Her lips had tiny lines all through them, stopping in a perfectly formed arc where lip turned to skin. Tiny beads of sweat formed in the shallow furrow under her nose. His gaze moved down her chin and onto her throat. The graceful arch of her jawline met her neck, and the creamy expanse of flesh disappeared under her collar. His eyes continued down past her shoulder and stopped on the swell of her breasts. They rose and fell with the measured rhythm of her breathing. The image of a large white breast, held up for view, came into his head. His testicles contracted and he realized he was getting hard. And then he felt eyes. He looked up and into Sarah’s soft hazel gaze, a half smile on her lips.
“What are you looking at?” she whispered.
Simon’s heart went to full race. His eyes involuntarily slipped back to her breast, his mind screaming that it was the last thing he should do. He paused for a split second on the forbidden view, and then looked again into her eyes. He felt the horrible rush of blood to his face, and knew he was blushing furiously. “I . . . I’m sorry.”
Nothing else would come to his lips, and his eyes begged hers to look away. She held her gaze, and then slowly she leaned closer and kissed him full on the mouth. It seemed to last forever, and Simon was unable to recognize any sensation but the touch of her lips on his as he shot into heaven, conscious only of the softness of her mouth, the barely perceptible quiver of her lips as they sought to bond with his.
And then he fell back to earth, Sarah again lying on her back, eyes shut, her breathing slow and even. His heart beat so hard, he could feel it in his neck and the ache he had felt in his arm wasn’t even a vague memory. Still savoring the kiss, Simon wished he could roll over and lie on his stomach, or failing that, hoped Sarah would keep her eyes closed for a few more minutes.
“What you mean too much I pay?” Werner Swartz’s eyes grew wide and he planted his hands on his hips.
Simon sat at the table in the storeroom, surrounded by pieces of paper. “When I compared the bill with the freight inventory on that last shipment I found they had itemized thirty-three articles shipped, but we only unpacked thirty-one. There’s a box of canned peaches and a fifty-pound sack of rice they’re asking payment for that we didn’t get.”
After spending two days unpacking a shipment, he had wondered how Mr. Swartz kept track of it all. Gus hadn’t paid much attention, content to simply stack and shelve stuff as they came to it. Miss Everett had suggested doing what he’d done. Now nearly noon, he had sorted papers and written down figures all morning.
“But each one they ship has number, ya?” Mr. Swartz looked skeptical.
“The freighter puts the number on, not the supplier. The freighter gets paid by what he moves, not what the shipper sells.” Simon pointed to the freight ticket.
“And more than once this happened?” Swartz’s apprehensive face showed clearly in his voice.
“I’ve looked through nearly a year’s worth of bills and freight tickets. If I understand right and you get a shipment every other week, then quite a few bills and freight tickets are missing. Nearly every one I’ve looked at has at least one item charged that you didn’t get.” He held up the piece of paper. “Some more than one. It seems to depend on the size of the load.”
“And you on purpose think this is?” The scowl on his face expressed anger beginning to build. “I will get the law for them. You are sure what you see?”
“I can see more items billed for than you received. I don’t know whether or not the shortage comes because your supplier doesn’t send it, or because the freighter removes an item or two, and then numbers them after that. I really can’t prove who’s cheating. I just know someone is.”
“And you know how much cheated I am?” The storekeeper leaned forward anticipating the answer.
“So far I have found ninety-six dollars and eighty-five cents.”
“Mein Gott!” Swartz’s face turned crimson and he pounded on the desk.
Simon slid his chair back and after a full minute of what Simon assumed was cursing, Swartz stopped in mid sentence and looked at him.
“And you think I pay you five percent for finding this?”
Simon felt like a weevil in a cracker barrel for the look Swartz gave him. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”
“Well, I think don’t you should. I was cheated. You did not save me money. It is gone.” He continued to bore into Simon with his dark eyes, his brow furrowed and his hands planted squarely on his hips.
“But I think you will save money in the future if—” Simon stopped as the blood started to rise again in the storekeeper’s face. “No, sir. I see what you’re saying.”
“Good, two times cheated I don’t want. This is good job you do. I will tell your papa.” Swartz, visibly relieved, stared down at the papers. “And why is missing tickets and bills? I show Gustav how to put papers away. You are sure it was good you look?”
“I used what was in the box here,” Simon said. “It was not very well organized.”
“I will talk to Gustav and see why papers missing.” Swartz shook his head and walked out of the storeroom, muttering to himself.
Simon put the papers back in the box. I wonder where Gus put the rest?
Matt stepped into Avery’s office and shut the door.
“Do you really have to shut the door, Matt? It’s hotter’n hell in here,” Avery said.
“I want to talk to you in private. Can you lock this door from the inside?”
“Sure, but I—”
“Then lock it!” Matt pulled a chair away from the desk and sat.
Avery stood, went to the door, stuck his key in the lock and turned it. What’s so damn secret I have to lock up in the middle of the day? “There, it’s locked.”
“I need some money, quite a bit of money.”
“Okay, that’s what I do. How much and what for?” Avery always got to the point when it came to money.
“I’m going to turn the tables on someone, and I have just the plan to do it.”
“You found out how to get your hands on some cows, didn’t you?” Avery watched Matt’s eyes closely and saw the look of chagrin flit past.
“How in hell did you know that?”
“Didn’t, till just now. I suspected you had gotten what you needed from Prosser. He ain’t been too cheerful lately. Guilty conscience I think.” Avery loved it when he anticipated someone.
“Well, if you know, you know. Doesn’t change what I’m going to do. I just need to fix the financing right now so I can arrange something down south.”
“All right. I know what for. How much?”
“About five thousand.”
“Damn, Matt, either you’re going to buy twice as many as Paul did, or you’re expecting me to finance you one hundred percent. Either way, I can’t risk it.” Avery knew Matt only had about four hundred dollars in the bank. He also knew Matt never kept much around the house; Matt and David’s father-son relationship didn’t breed a lot of trust.
“I’ll put the farm up,” Matt said.
“I . . . you know I . . . I’m not sure you should.” The heat in the room could not completely account for the sudden flush that Avery felt.
“What are you talking about? What do you mean, I shouldn’t?” Matt moved to the edge of his chair. “I told you once about short sticks and rattlesnakes.”
Avery cleared his throat. “I’m aware of only two people who know about the farm. You and me. That’s what I know. But, I can’t be sure there’s not someone else. And not knowing makes that farm risky collateral.” His own audacity surprised him.
“You sniveling little bastard. You were well paid for your trivial piece of work. If you, for one instant, think you can hold that over me, you are sorely mistaken.” Matt’s face had turned dark and he glared at Avery. “When only two people know something, it’s one word against another, and if you think my word won’t hold up to yours, you’re crazy. I’ll warn you one more time: don’t even dream about bringing that up.” Matt’s breath came hard, the veins in his forehead bulging. He blinked quickly a couple of times and suddenly sat back down.
“I can’t do it, Matt,” Avery said quietly but firmly. “There are people in Saint Louis I fear a lot more than anyone around here. If I asked them to lend that much money and it fell through, I wouldn’t last a month.” He mentally steeled himself for Matt’s inevitable tirade, but Matt was suddenly very calm.
“You did get rid of all the paperwork, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” Avery snorted. He met Matt eye to eye.
“Then you have nothing to worry about. Nobody knows, or will ever know.” Matt paused.
Avery broke off the eye contact and looked at the clock.
“I’ll tell you what,” Matt said finally. “I’ll let you in on the deal.”
“That makes it a little easier,” Avery said. He put a tone of interest in his voice. “What kind of a split are you talking about?”
“Let’s go fifty-fifty. I’m not in it for the money. There’s the trust that my father set up. I can access that, can’t I?”
“Legally, yes.” Avery nodded his head, sagely, he thought. “You can borrow against it if the collateral is ironclad. Your wife must agree, though. That’s the way the old man set it up. But I can do that, yes. I’m the administrator of that trust,” Avery said and then paused. I can sell my part of this to Lancer, and maybe get Blake Waldon in on it too. They’re always whining about missing all the money deals. Maybe, just maybe, float the whole thing and not risk anything myself. Uncle Sylvan never needs to know. Yeah, this feels better by the second. ‘You protect your own ass best by risking someone else’s.’ Who told me that? Doesn’t matter, it’s true. And my snake-playing stick just got longer.
“Yeah,” Avery continued. “We can work something out. You said five thousand? You sure that’s going to be enough?”
They worked over a few figures, and then Avery unlocked the door. He watched Matt head across the street for Lancer’s. “Going to be a lively place come spring,” Avery said to no one. He went back to his desk and sat down. Turning, he pulled open a drawer in the cabinet behind him and pulled out a binder. He opened it, checked its contents for a moment, and put it back. After closing the drawer, he leaned back in his chair and let out a satisfied sign. “Yup, lively.”