A Choice of Blades: The Blade Remnant, Book One

by D. N. Woodward

  Without knowing what else to do, Leon shook it in response. “Mr. Banker, can’t say it's nice to meet you based on what little I’ve heard, but I’ll shake your hand.”

  “Likewise, I’m sure, the name’s Joseph Romano.”

  Leon looked Joseph in the eye and gave him a good tight squeeze before he released his hand. “Leon Waldman.”

  Joseph turned back to Gus, his smile sweetening into a condescending smirk. “Hired help?”

  “Grandson.”

  “Of course. Well, please, remember Mr. Silberman, you have forty-eight hours to make a decision.” He spread his arms wide. “I suggest you take the money. You will be well compensated.”

  Leon could practically see the steam coming from Gus’ ears. When Gus involuntarily slid his right hand down to grasp the hilt of his old bone-handled hunting knife, Leon saw a dangerous look descend over Gus. A look he hadn’t seen in the many years he’d lived with the man he called his grandfather. He rushed up the steps to stop the old man from leaping off the porch and physically assaulting the banker.

  Gus had all the finesse of a big burly teddy bear, but he could be downright dangerous if the war stories he sometimes told from his younger, wilder days held a quarter of the truth he claimed. Without the cowboy hat and pearl snap shirts he wore, his barrel build and steely disposition could easily be mistaken for that of an outlaw biker. Especially with the handlebar mustache and silver sideburns he sported.

  But something about the banker’s stance, something about the way he moved, told Leon that Joseph could hold his own if it came down to it. Leon couldn’t pinpoint how he knew, but he knew. Deep down, he knew.

  Once Joseph saw Leon’s hand braced on Gus’ arm, he realized some sort of threat had just been avoided. He took a step forward.

  Gone was the slick smile and condescending posture. Leon knew a bully when he saw one. As a little guy with a hot temper, he’d had ample time in high school to hone that skill on jocks who had often misjudged him.

  Great, just what I need, either see my granddad gut a stranger, or have a stranger beat down the both of us on our front porch.

  Before either party said another word, they heard a deep guttural growl coming from behind the banker. Merle’s growl continued to build as he circled the stranger, eventually placing his body between Leon and a perceived threat for the second time that day.

  Merle rarely barked. His size nullified the need for those types of theatrics. Instead, he hunched his shoulders and curled his lip, causing him to look more akin to a wolf than a large gray mutt in the moment.

  Leon gasped. He couldn’t ever recall Merle demonstrating such an intimidating pose, but he didn’t call him off either.

  The stranger’s posture went stone still. He balanced on his toes, leaning just a smidge forward. Leon couldn’t tell whether he planned to attack or pivot and run. He didn’t seem like the running type.

  Merle and the man stared each other down for seconds that felt like minutes. The man wasn’t going to allow Merle to intimidate him, and Merle’s growl continued to grow until he had spittle running down his chin.

  Before things got entirely out of hand, Leon squatted down and grabbed Merle by his collar. The big dog felt the tug and went silent, though the hair on his back still stood on end.

  Squinting up into the sun above Joseph, Leon thought it about time to bring things to a close. “Mister, you’ve delivered your message. Now, I suggest you head back to your bank.”

  Joseph nodded with a none too friendly smile. All three of them watched the man take three steps backward before pivoting and strutting slowly back to his car. He certainly didn’t act like any country banker Leon had ever met.

  Before passing through the gate, Joseph stopped, picked up a fist-sized rock, and stacked it with a thud on the paperwork above the h-brace in the fence. He didn’t shut the gate behind him.

  As soon as the engine started, the car took off, spraying dirt and pebbles back onto the old Ford parked nearby. Leon’s eyes narrowed as the new dirt kicked up on his mud-covered grill guard. He mumbled to himself more than to Gus, “Well, he didn’t have to go and do that!”

  “A man like that does what he pleases, Leon, and it typically pleases such a one to do just like that.” Then, he growled, “I simply can’t tolerate a man who don’t know to shut a gate behind his self.” Gus spat into the yard for good measure. He was still amped up to the nth degree.

  “Well, what was all that about anyhow?”

  After a few deep breaths, Gus spoke softly. His age broke through the careful façade he kept and showed a touch of uncertainty in his eyes, “The banks calling our loans, son. The taxman didn’t do us any favors either, even with last year’s exemptions. Jim allowed us to refinance last winter and gave us a six-month extension on the loan payment this spring. It was on a handshake, mostly. That's why I didn’t pay much heed to the boilerplate notices we received in the mail. I’ve only ever had to do that twice before, and Jim always gave us the other extension to get us through till calves were ready to sell.” Gus pulled his hat off his head and mopped his brow with a hanky.

  “We can’t get another loan?”

  “This new bank management isn’t having it. They’ve been sneaky. Drove my credit score into the mud. Somehow, though I can’t recall how now, the paperwork says I had the old section lumped in as collateral years back. They aim to take it.” He swatted at a fly, overly interested in filling the vacancy on his head.

  “What about selling off half the momma cows?"

  "We do that, and we'll be in the same boat come next year, maybe worse." Gus used his hat to halfheartedly swat at the fly once more.

  "Well, how about stripping the lumber in the south pastures?”

  Gus paused his fly-catching to look Leon in the eye when he responded, “Wouldn’t matter now. The last time we called the lumber company, they wanted a lease inked before they would come out. We ain’t got the time to let the lawyers do their dance this time around.”

  “So, they’re just going to take your land? Can they do that?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. They won’t if I can help it though! Go ahead and finish up with what you’ve got to do today, I’ve a few calls to make.” He batted at the fly once more with his hat. Then his sour lips split into a grin when its escape path took it right into one of several fly strips hanging down off the eaves. Leon heard it buzz once or twice while it struggled in vain to take off.

  Gus sniffed at the air and his eyes twinkled just a bit, “Though, on second thought, that banker feller was on to something. You may want to change yer britches, or at least hang a few more fly-strips if you plan on loafing around out here any longer.”

  Leon chuckled. That was typical Gus. He could find a measure of humor and a reason to be busy in the midst of just about any situation. They didn't always see eye to eye, but he always knew where the old man stood.

  Gus tossed his hat on the porch rocker, fished his cell phone and reading glasses out of his shirt pocket, and shuffled back into the house.

  Leon watched the dust cloud from the car’s departure in the distance. It billowed up and over the pines once more, but it sure seemed to hang around a bit longer than it did before. He hopped off the porch and went to shut the gate.

  Chapter 2

  Time flew by and ranch work went on as usual. Leon managed to track down Duke after the banker left, though it took him a solid three hours of searching. The whole incident from earlier continued to stump him, but everything seemed fine when he released the young gelding into his paddocks.

  Gus didn't bother to share the verdict of his calls on Wednesday. He stayed busy and Leon didn't see him much over the next day or two. To Leon, this didn't bode well, and he preferred not to push the old man on the subject. Instead, he kept his head down and his hands busy.

  Friday morning came around all too quickly. By a quarter till nine Leon had a flatbed goose-neck trailer loaded down with scrap metal for the recycler. A few hundred dol
lars of scrap metal wouldn’t make a dent in what Gus owed to the bank but staying busy was better than doing nothing.

  Gus came shuffling out from within the house and joined him near the tailgate as he finished tossing straps over the carefully placed pile of rusted debris from one side of the gooseneck to the other. Gus didn’t say much, just stood there sipping his coffee and watching him work.

  Leon was happy to see that his grandfather didn’t appear to be taking things quite as hard as he had two days ago. Gus even smiled a bit when the pile shifted, and he had to re-tighten one of the straps.

  From early on, Gus had been a stickler for the proper way of securing things like knots and straps. But lately, he refrained from giving much advice on just about anything Leon did. After graduating high school that spring, Leon figured Gus either considered him past the age of correction or had simply given up on trying. Regardless, it was good to know the old man still enjoyed seeing a load strapped down proper.

  Once done, Leon opened the driver’s side door, turned the ignition just enough to run the radio, and tuned into an AM station to listen in on the local pricing reports from past week’s live auction market results. He cranked up the volume and returned to stand near Gus by the tailgate.

  The morning was mild and overcast. Humidity continued to build rather than dissipate. Leon could almost smell the rain on the horizon.

  “Weatherman says we might get a good gully-washer tonight.”

  Gus took a deep breath through his nose. “You know what I think about weather prognosticators…blind hogs, acorns, and such. But yeah, I’d say he’s got the right idea this time. Something big is building.”

  Leon took a good long swig of black coffee from his yeti mug. Coffee, even in summer, was the lifeblood that kept a ranch running. He tossed his logbook down on the tailgate and prepared to make some notes on the current market prices for 200-300-pound feeder calves. Gus stopped him.

  “Son, one way or another, that ship has sailed. No need for crunching numbers. The math ain’t gonna change, and we don’t have enough calves with enough meat on ‘em to cover the note.”

  Leon nodded. It was a hard pill to swallow but Gus was right. It tore him up to see a piece of the ranch his grandfather loved yanked right out from under their noses.

  Gus walked over and patted a familiar-looking blue strip of metal, “I appreciate the job you’ve done combing these pastures for all this scrap, but did you really need to get rid of this old roping chute.”

  “Yes, sir, I know what you mean.” He halfway shrugged. “But I should have hauled that rusted heap awhile back. Not that I didn’t appreciate the time we spent with her, but she’s been busted up and patched together with baling wire and crummy welds for one too many years. It’s time I found a new hobby.”

  If Gus was disappointed, he hid it well as he shrugged and checked his phone for the third time in as many minutes, “Well, anyhow, we had a lot of good times with that rusted piece of iron, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, sir, we sure did… You know, speaking of the chute, something happened while I was working…”

  Gus interrupted “Hold that thought son, we got company.”

  Leon spun around. Gus was right. He could just see a new dust cloud sneaking up through the pines. In another minute or two, Joseph Romano’s same black car came rattling up the dirt road for the second time in as many days, followed by the local sheriff’s souped-up Bronco.

  Leon grinned. Sheriff Tony Vega was practically family to Gus and Leon. Many years ago, he had worked the ranch for Gus on weekends and summers while he pursued a degree in criminal justice. More recently, Tony moved back into the area and won the sheriff’s job. They’d seen less and less of him over the past few years.

  Tony shut the engine off and slowly shuffled on up to where Gus and Leon stood while the banker shuffled papers in the cab of his car.

  Gus called out in a friendly manner, like Tony’s presence was a pleasant and unexpected surprise, “Well, hello, Tony, what brings you all the way out here? If you’re looking to relive your glory days, I got no horses to break. Leon’s done gone and got ‘em all eatin’ from my hand.” Gus meant it as a compliment to Leon, but he scowled for effect, nonetheless.

  Tony didn’t look up, but a small grin momentarily split his somber lips. Then the grin vanished as he answered softly, “I think you know why I’m here, Gus. The bank’s new president, Mr. Ben Heegan, explained the nature of today's visit with me before we headed this way. He also explained a bit about the greeting you all gave that fellow back there a few days ago. I guess I’m here to make sure everyone plays nice.”

  Gus didn’t skip a beat. “So, Mr. President has the nature of today’s visit pinned, does he?” He winked at Leon and his eyes twinkled just a bit.

  It was the first time Leon suspected all was not what it seemed.

  Joseph stepped out of the car, a stack of paperwork in tow. He marched directly up to Gus and asked if there was a place they could all sit down.

  Once they were situated at the kitchen table in the main house and Gus had sufficiently fussed over a new pot of coffee, there was only the business at hand left to address. Yet Leon watched, wide-eyed and silent, as his grandfather continued cutting up, telling Tony some of the same old time-worn jokes he’d peddled for years.

  Joseph’s face held a sneer and Leon could tell he was in no mood to stall-out on small talk. After a few minutes of pleasantries and friendly banter, he cleared his throat and suggested they finish what they came to do. Just then Leon heard another car pull up outside. Gus immediately jumped up and politely excused himself, a big smile on his face. Without him there, the two guests and Leon got up and followed on outside.

  A shiny new silver Jeep Wrangler was parked next to Tony’s Bronco and two men Leon had never seen before were walking up toward the porch. Gus made a big scene of embracing the older of the two. The man was an inch or two taller than Gus’ six-foot frame. He sported short curly grey hair and an olive skin complexion. They were both dressed business casual, with slacks, golf shirts, and Costa glasses. There were a short series of man hugs followed by a healthy dose of back-slapping, like some sort of lighthearted reunion.

  Gus then turned and ruffled the younger man’s hair, marveling at how he “had grown.” The younger man had the same slender but solid build as the older man, though he was a little shorter, about the same height as Gus. He had curly black hair and, Leon noticed, when he pushed his glasses up onto his head, cold blue eyes. They lacked the warmth of his companion.

  When all of the antics subsided, and Leon could see Joseph’s eyes burning with impatience, Gus turned back around and acted like he had forgotten why everyone was still waiting on an explanation for the additional delay.

  “Gentlemen! I’m sorry to keep you in suspense there. This here is the one and only Ethan Adler, and his nephew Reed Whistler! Been a long time since me and Ethan were traipsing through jungles together, but he’s the guy I want backing me up if I ever head back!” He went on to introduce everyone there to his new guests.

  Joseph stammered, all semblance of patience gone. “We’ve got business to conclude, and I’ll be out of here as soon as it’s done. Can’t this wait?”

  Gus stroked his chin, relishing the moment. Then held a finger in the air like a thought had suddenly come to him. “Well, Mr. Romano, that’s just the thing! Our business is concluded.”

  Joseph’s face scrunched up in a puzzled expression.

  “If you bother to call your office, you will find that our debt has been paid, in full.”

  Then, Gus dropped his sunny disposition, and a menacing scowl took its place, “But I want you to know one thing Mr. Romano, you are never to set foot on this property again. Do I make myself clear?”

  Joseph’s jaw clenched shut and his white knuckles flexed. He wasn’t accustomed to being outmaneuvered in such a way. “Crystal.”

  With that, he marched to his car. He made a call from the driver's seat before h
e sped off, peppering Leon’s Ford with dusty debris once more.

  Afterward, they all took a seat on the front porch and had a good laugh at the banker’s expense. Leon listened in utter astonishment as Ethan and Gus explained how they had coordinated the private loan from Ethan over the past twenty-four hours. It was just like Gus to keep everyone on edge, right till the very end. It also explained his near absence from the ranch over the last day or two.

  The fact that he waited to spill the beans until the banker drove his fancy car all the way back out to the ranch was just icing on the cake. They were all in stitches at Gus’ continued antics and banker jokes until Tony finally had to beg off when his dispatcher called. He promised to visit again soon.

  Once it was just the four of them, Leon stuck close to Gus, interested in the backstory behind these new friends of his grandfather's. He thought for sure he had heard every story about every old buddy his grandfather ever knew at least forty times over before he ever got to high school. The fact that he couldn’t ever remember hearing the name Ethan Adler had his curiosity meter just about pegged out.

  He delayed his trip to the scrap recyclers and stuck around the house for the rest of the morning, listening in as the two old-timers caught up. Reed remained quiet for the most part as well. Ethan made it a point to brag on him once or twice between every other story, but it was primarily the two older men who did all the talking.

  Everything seemed to be going great until Leon went in to fetch everyone some iced tea. As he approached the front door, tea glasses and pitcher in tow, it became apparent the mood had shifted.

  Ethan’s voice piped up, “…it's well past time, burn it or cut it down and chop it up, I don’t care. We are here to see this is ended, once and for all.”

  “That ain’t gonna happen, not on my watch. Time’s may be changing, but there’s a reason we stand ready…”