Spirit of the Wolf (23 page)

"Yessir, Mister Cramer." The young man glanced in Bess's direction and shot her a weak
, apologetic
smile.

Bess did not return it. She'd heard every word, loud and clear. Wh
o did
Cramer
think he was, dictating
who
sh
ould make this deal on Micah's behalf! But
she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that
he'd riled her.
Instead,
Bess would
show
him.

The teller stood before her, licking his lips while
wringing his hands.
"I'm sorry, Miss Beckley, but Mister Cramer says
he can’t see you just yet
."

His distress at being forced to deliver such rude news might have touched her
. Wasn’t his fault, after all, that his boss had slighted her.
St
anding, Bess
placed
a
white-gloved hand on his forearm. "Don't you worry another minute about it," she told him, smiling.

And then she burst through the swinging wooden gate that separated bank officials from patrons.

"Wait," the teller said, one finger
aloft
as he hurried after her. "You can't go in there, Miss Beckley."

She turned
and, one hand
on the gate
, met his terrified eyes
. "I believe I've already done it," she announced, grinning.

Bess then turned her attention to the banker
,
and then
sat in one of two red leather chairs in front of his desk.

Cramer looked up from his paperwork. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded, glaring at his terrified employee.

"I tried to stop her, sir," the teller said. "But
—“

Bess, smiling sweetly, looked up at the young man. "I'd very much appreciate a glass of water
, if you’d be so kind
."

He blinked. Cleared his throat. Flushed. "Well, I.... But.... Um...." He looked to his boss for guidance. "Mister Cramer?"

"Oh, go and get the little lady some water, Anderson," the man spat. "And be quick about it. I haven't got all day." He gave Bess his full, undivided attention to ask in a falsely syrupy voice, "What is the nature of your business, missy?"

Her polite smile still in place, Bess leaned forward slightly. "My father wired you that I'd be here. Micah Beckley.
I’m sure
you've heard of him
.
"

Cramer leaned back in his creaking wooden chair and folded his hands across his black brocade vest. "Yes....yes, of course I've heard of him. He's one of our depositors."

"One of your
biggest
depositors, you mean!"

The banker's eyes narrowed, but he did not respond.

Tilting her head to one side, she sighed. "As you probably know, my father has spent the past several years trying to build up a respectable
number of dairy cows. What you may not know is that he’s also working to develop a
herd of cattle that will enable him to compete with Virginia ranchers. His research told him the very best bulls are born and bred right here by the Amish. That's why he's been doing business with Mister Shelby."

The banker rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation. "Your family history is of no concern to me, Miss Beckley. Now,
if you’ll excuse me,
I'm a busy man
who has
a lot to do
and—“

"
—and
I'm sure you can see it makes good sense," she continued, ignoring his interruption, "
for my father
to keep enough cash on hand, right here
at your bank
,
in the town
where the business takes place, to make the transactions as efficient as possible for my father and Mister Shelby alike."

One brow quirked as he realized what was at stake here. Cramer
sat forward
and
folded his hands on his desktop. "I'm not accustomed to doing business with womenfolk. I'll have you know that right up front."

Anderson showed up with her water just then, and as she accepted the glass, Bess said to Cramer, "And I'm not accustomed to doing business with arrogant, overbearing old fools
—“

"Now, see here, Miss Beckley,
I see no reason for you to insul—“

Smiling, she
looked up at the tell
er, drying his water-dampened hands on the seat of his
trousers
. "Thank you
for the water, Mr. Anderson,
" she said
.

"You're quite welcome, Miss Beckley." He grinned and shuffled from one foot to the other before departing.

Cramer's narrowed eyes flashed with anger and the top of his bald head glowed bright red as the teller retreated, chuckling under his breath.

"N
ow then,” Bess said, “I don’t suppose I need to
remind you that my father has a considerable sum on deposit in your little bank
, do I
?"
She
paused
, then added
, "Which is precisely why I insist upon doing business with you directly. You are, after all, the man in charge...aren't you?"

She didn’t give him time to respond. Instead, she plowed ahead.
"Correct me if I'm wrong
,
but isn't the whole idea of banking to earn more money for the institution by making use of cash on deposit?"

Frowning, he coughed and cleared his throat. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Bess put the water glass on the edge of his desk and
gave
him a withering glare. "
Surely you don’t think m
y father's dollars w
ill
work less efficiently on your bank's behalf simply because
they’ve c
ome into contact with..." she daintily wiggled her fingers "...'womenfolk's' hands."

He put his agitation aside in exchange for outright anger. "I don't need a lesson in banking from the likes of you, young lady!"

"Perhaps not," she snapped, "but you most certainly
could
use a lesson in customer relations!"

For the second time in as many minutes, she refused to give him time
to respond. Bess
got to her feet and
calmly flattened both hands on his desktop
.
"Mr. Cramer, do you respect my father?"

When he blinked up at her, Bess noticed the sheen of perspiration on his brow.

"Why, why, yes. Yes, of course I do," he said, running a thick finger around the inside of his collar. "I was impressed, quite impressed with Mr. Beckley on the occasions we met in person, and I
—“

"Do you believe he's an intelligent man?"

His reddened face glistened slightly with a sheen of perspiration. "Well, yes. Naturally. But I
—“

"You're confident, then, that he is completely capable of making wise decisions regarding the running of his businesses...and the handling of his money?"

Cramer was standing now, too. "Really, Miss Beckley,
” he stammered, tucking his chin into his collar, “
I fail to see what any of this has to do with
—“

“A
llow me to spell it out for you,
then.
If you wish to continue doing business with my father, you have no alternative but to show me the same courtesy and respect you'd show him, since putting me in charge of this transaction was
his
decision."

Bess sat again and
tidied
the folds of her skirt
, waiting until
Cramer had settled
onto the leather seat of
his squeak
y
chair
.
"Now if you don't mind, I'd like to make a withdrawal."
She pointed.
"Does that ledger contain a listing of your present accounts?" Bess asked, blinking innocently as she pointed to the thick leather book on his desk.

"
Why, why, y
es
. Yes it does.
"

"I suggest you open it, then, to refresh your memory as to exactly how much of my father's money I have total control over here today."

"Now see here, young lady, you
are
not
authorized to make a withdrawal without your father's signat
ure.
"

She reached into her purse and withdrew an envelope. Tapping it lightly, she said, "This letter is my power of attorney. It gives me permission to withdraw any dollar amount I see fit." Nodding at the now-open brown ledger, she added, "Please don't give me reason to believe I must withdraw
all of it and transfer the funds to your competitor’s bank
."

A second, perhaps two passed before
Cramer's dour expression turned friendly, and he gave her his best bank manager's smile. Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a withdrawal slip. "Just how much
will
you be taking...taking from the...from your account today, Miss Beckley?" he asked
, dipping his pen’s nib
into the inkwell
on the corner of his desk
.

"
My, look at your hand trembling.” She relieved him of the pen. “I’m happy to
fill
out the withdrawal slip
for you
.
"

***

She was in no mood for more manly dominance. If Ernest Shelby thought he was going to give her the same hard time the old banker had, well, he had another think coming, Bess decided.

The moment she'd arrived in town, Bess sent word by way of messenger to Shelby that she'd see him at his convenience. One of his farm hands delivered a note that very afternoon, indicating Shelby would meet her at Gracie's Restaurant on Porsmouth Street, three o'clock sharp.

Bess peeked at the watch
f
ob that dangled from a silver chain around her neck. Already, he was more than fifteen minutes late. She detested tardiness. But far more important than that, she
felt uncomfortable
carrying such a large sum of cash.

"Well, now, haven't you gone and grown up pretty?"

Startled, she turned toward the gruff but friendly voice. Bess would have recognized Ernest Shelby anywhere. She'd met him years ago, when she'd traveled with Micah to purchase those first dairy cows. Shelby was by far the biggest man she'd ever seen. Even from all the way across the room, he reminded her of the stuffed grizzly Homer Jensen kept in the front window of his Baltimore haberdashery.

Bess stood and held out her white gloved hand to him. "Mister Shelby, it's a pleasure to see you again."

"Pleasure's all mine, little lady," he said, shaking it firmly.

"Would you care for some coffee?"

"Don't mind if I do," he said, dropping his huge bulk onto the seat of a cane-backed chair. "Sorry I'm late. One of my cows had a breech birth this mornin'. Took nigh on to four hours to get that little calf born."

She smiled, for his voice was as large as frame. Bess could almost picture the big man gently tugging a tiny cow from its mother's womb. They spent the next few minutes catching up on family gossip. Then, suddenly, Shelby shoved his mug away and said, "So you're here to buy two of my bulls, eh?"

Bess nodded and squeezed the money-stuffed purse in her lap. "Pa said there'd be no need for me to ride out and inspect them
. S
aid he trusted you to choose two of your best
.
"

Shelby nodded. "Ain't never cheated a man in all my life," he said, male pride glittering in his pale blue eyes, "and I sure ain't gonna start now, when I'm
gettin’ ever
close
r
to meetin' my Maker."

"
I’m convinced. But would you
mind telling me
why
the bulls you've chosen for my father are what you consider the very best you have to offer
?
"

The next half hour was filled with a detailed discussion of bovine quality, during which Bess cornered Shelby into a
physical
description of the bulls he
’d
ship
to Maryland
. Exhausted by her inquisition, Shelby leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath. "Well, now, I'm sure you're anxious to get back home to your daddy...."

Bess smiled, a hand against her chest. "That I am." She wouldn't insult her father's friend, but she wouldn't chance that he
was
Micah's friend. "May I share a secret with you, Mr. Shelby?" Looking left, then right, Bess leaned forward and whispered, "I've always wanted to watch as the branding took place. Do you suppose that could be arranged?" She sat back then, still grinning, and added. "Two birds with one stone, as they say; my little adventure fulfilled, and no chance for confusion at time of shipment."