Land Run. Mark Graham
on to your boss. I have all the numbers and can get it faxed to you.”
“Rusty, I’ll tell you what. If it looks good, I can put a threemonth stay on the current debt. But if not, then we really need to move on a payment schedule for your current construction.”
Rusty took some time to reflect on how he got to this juncture. This guy was different for sure. He wasn’t going to leave with the assurance that this deal was closed, and there was no time to adjust.
“That’s how you want to move? How ’bout you tell your boss that I said this was golden. I will have the numbers on his desk first thing. He can update you with what to do next. How does that sound?”
“We just need the information, Mr. Watson. And I’m just letting you know the course we naturally take if the result finds us back at our current situation,” Cort replied, leaning away from him.
Rusty stood up to leave, but something from way back, something from his own hopes and dreams, stopped him. He looked down intently and steadily to Cort.
“Cort, right?”
“Yes.”
A crack of the bat sounded and everyone around them was on their feet, shouting.
“Your boy. I’ve been watching him and watching you. He’s got it. Probably as far as college ball. You know he’s been looking up here?”
“What?”
“Yeah. I don’t like you, but I’ll work with you. But your son there, he’s tracking for your eyes more than the ball. That’s why he let that one past him. You watch him. You make him not worry about you, and he’ll get his head back into it.”
Rusty turned and walked down the bleachers and out to his truck. He started the truck and heard his Blackberry go off. It was an e-mail from his lawyer in Tulsa. “Hey, partner. We got a snag, but nothing we can’t tackle. The Montgomery guy won’t take five per acre. He won’t take anything. Seen these guys before. No problem. Will call you tonight.”
Rusty read the e-mail over and again. He hated that his involvement with this lawyer was deepening and would require a level of trust and money that was distasteful to him. Rusty refocused on the land as he drove. He would still make it happen. That is how it would be. Hard or easy, this deal was going to go through.
Chapter Two
Just before sunup, Marty Black grabbed his hoe and gloves from the weatherworn woodshed out back of his place. He tightened on the old, soiled gloves and moved unusually fast to the garden plot, anxious to start to work. He knew an early row of snow peas waited for him to harvest and another row of tomatoes needed planting. Early spring always felt good to Marty, and he loved the smell of the morning dew after and upon the evening rains. The storm season in central Oklahoma offered great hope to him each year—so much so that he would forget about the certain midsummer battle with heat and drought that lay ahead. But in the here-and-now, where he most liked to be, this was the best time and he would get to plant and harvest all at once.
He dug in and planted half a row before he decided to switch gears. The sun heated up early as he plucked the new snow peas, plopping them one by one into his tin bucket. His efforts turned his face red, and soon the sweat poured over his wrinkled face so much that he no longer bothered wiping it. This time of year allowed him to be old without really feeling old. But Marty listened to his bones more than he used to and took up a moment on the garden stool. He made the stool special for his wife, Ruth, because she was a woman and he figured she would need it. He found that funny now. He got amused at a lot of things he once thought or did.
Marty took advantage of these times when his body was spent well before the whole town of Willow Springs even had breakfast. He liked the quiet and pondered his Maker and all that He made and all that He was still making. Sometimes he would feel Him come on like a sudden warm breeze, a felt presence that was pleasant and familiar. Most mornings, they just enjoyed each other’s company. Marty didn’t like to talk much, and he knew that was understood. But if his thoughts got heavy, like this morning, the two of them would normally hash it out a bit.
“I got to tell you, I don’t like what happened to Rusty’s boy. It was a nasty way to go. You know that,” Marty started in.
“I know. I hate it too.”
“I’m not accusing you or nothin’.”
“Yes you are.”
Marty nodded at that and stretched up to pick through the tomatoes. These meetings made him a little nervous. It dawned on him that only two people made him feel this way after Korea: Him and Ruth, when she got those ideas to visit family.
“I just don’t get it,” Marty said.
“No. Don’t pick that one yet. It’s not ready.”
“I know you are good. I know it,” Marty continued.
“You have eyes to see.”
“Just what are you up to?” Marty asked.
“I am in the land.”
“What?”
“You have ears to hear.”
“What can I do?” Marty asked.
“Wait.”
Marty realized suddenly that Ruth was calling to him from inside the back screen porch. He lumbered up his six-feet-five-inch, old frame and walked back into the house. Once inside, he knew something was not quite right, but he couldn’t place the feeling. But the smell of breakfast broke his momentary daze, and he sat down to eat.
“You didn’t put your tools up.” Ruth put his plate and coffee down.
“That’s it.”
“That’s what?” Ruth asked.
“Nothin’.” Marty buttered his bread.
“Pastor Jake will be here any minute. I don’t guess you’re going to change.”
“Nope. We’re going to take the truck. You gonna need anything today?”
“No,” she answered and made her way slowly out of the kitchen and into the front room.
Marty liked his new pastor. The last one never went with him to visit the shut-ins. Marty never thought much of that until Jake asked to go with him a few times. He couldn’t say that he appreciated the company, but he wasn’t against it either. Marty always believed that God put people together for a reason. In these later years, he got comfortable with just trusting God and letting him do more of the reasoning.
“Pastor is here,” Ruth called from the living room.
Marty heard the front screen door spring creaking and snatched his truck keys from the kitchen wall on his way out. “Sorry ’bout the truck. I need to keep Ruth’s car clean. Okay? I might need to drive her to some female thing this evening.”
“That’s no problem, Marty. What’s the meeting about, garden club?” Jake asked as he piled into the pickup.
“I don’t know. Don’t never know,” Marty replied and noticed Jake looking a little worried.
“Okay. You getting your radio fixed?” Jake asked.
“What? I don’t have a radio. Pastor, that’s a hole in the dashboard. You know, where a radio would be.” Marty gave Jake a look that questioned his pastor’s intelligence.
“Right. Makes sense. So how have you been?”
“Fine.”
“Know where they live?” Jake asked.
“Yep.”
“I heard we’re supposed to visit a member with a bad foot. You know