The Return of Elliott Eastman (6 page)

Chapter Twelve

It was late afternoon when Elliott let himself into the Colorado ranch house and laid his car keys on the vestibule table. Slowly he walked over to the bar in the living room and poured a stiff double shot of scotch. The pain in his side came and went, but seemed to be lingering longer each time. Elliott pressed a speed dial button on his phone and then hung up.

A moment later, the longtime ranch hand Greer knocked discreetly on the den door.

“Come in.”

Greer stepped into the room, removed his cowboy hat and lowered it hesitantly to chest level. Elliott studied the sun bronzed wiry old man for a moment. Many years ago Elliott’s father had found Greer as a young boy sleeping in the hay loft. Greer claimed he was hungry and had no money or home. Elliott’s father liked the boy’s forthright manner. When he got the boy a change of clothes he noted the deep bruises that covered his body and the fact that he was rail thin. He suspected what the boy’s home life was like and why he had run away. Right there and then Elliott’s father had taken him in and decided to teach him the ways of ranching. The young boy and old man working together had helped frame the enormous new ranch house and overseen the layout of the pond and orchard. As the work progressed over the course of many months, the two had grown very fond of one another. When Elliott’s father passed away Greer had simply stayed on. He’d been a fixture at the ranch for as long as Elliott could remember.

“Greer, how long have you worked here?”

The old ranch hand reached up and scratched his head. “I don’t rightly know sir. I reckon it’s gotta be close to forty years.”

“Closer to fifty. I have a proposal for you Greer. I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be around. I’ve asked my attorney to draw up papers and have them recorded at the county offices. I’m going to split off twenty acres along with the original house down by the creek and deed them to you.”

“You don’t need to do that Mr. Elliott. I like sleeping in the bunk house just fine,” the ramrod protested.

“I’m not through. Remember I said this was a proposal. Your part of the bargain is to be sure my parents’ graves are properly tended to, they are never to look neglected.”

Greer smiled. “Heck Mr. Elliott, I been doing that for years anyhow. Wait, maybe you think they don’t look so well cared for, is that it?”

“No, no, I think they look just fine, but I want to be sure they are kept that way.”

“Say, what’s going on here? Are you going away somewheres?” Greer asked, suddenly squinty-eyed suspicious.

“Nothing lasts forever,” Elliott replied, “including me. I want to be sure we get this done right. You’ve been very loyal to me and my family. You deserve this.”

“I don’t rightly know what to say sir,” Greer replied softly. “It’s a mighty fine house and it’s way too big for the likes of me.”

“Greer, I plan on leaving the other seventeen hundred acres, this ranch house, the barns, corrals, bunkhouse, and everything but the old ranch house and your twenty acres to the state of Colorado as a park.”

“That there is a mighty big gift. I wonder if your pa would approve. He loved this ranch and all.”

“Oh I think he’s looking down on us and smiling right now. Why have the ranch locked up? Let’s let young city people come on down here and go riding. Let them learn to love the land like we did.”

“When you put it that way I guess it does sound pretty good.”

“And I know my father would want to be sure you are well cared for. The old ranch house along with some money set aside should do you very well.”

“I still don’t know sir.”

“I know, Greer. Do you ever just know when something is the right thing to do? I mean really know it from deep down inside?”

“Sure, I reckon I do sir.”

“Good, then it’s settled. If you’ll go saddle up Dusty I think I’ll go for a ride before it’s too dark.”

“Yes sir, right away sir.”

Dusty was a golden bay stallion with white mane and tail. He was getting up there in years, but still loved to run flat out. At the sight of Elliott he whinnied with pleasure. The senator approached him, gave him a sugar cube and talked in low tones to the big horse. He took him out through the big barn doors. Greer stood aside as he mounted up.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Elliott said.

Greer nodded and watched him ride out of the yard. The old cowboy knew where he was going and smiled when he saw Elliott turn off the road and head for a little known hanging valley. The beautiful little valley was another thousand feet higher than the ranch. It consisted of about ninety pine-clad acres and had a small creek flowing out of the mountains with a lush meadow and small three acre lake right in the middle of it. Several spires of granite marked the entrance where a narrow hint of a trail wound its way up the last few hundred yards.

Greer shook his head.

“Going up to where he always used to take Miss Stephanie,” he said to himself as he turned back for the barn.

Climbing higher, horse and rider topped out on a hogback ridge and saw the entrance to the valley in the distance. One would never suspect that a few boulders and a thick stand of pine could hide such a perfect patch of heaven. Riding around a house-sized rock outcropping and ducking low beneath the pine boughs they covered the last few yards to where the trail ended. The basin lay before them with the small pond in its center surrounded by a scattering of ancient pine and spruce. Suddenly a horse whinnied. Elliott, and Dusty, with his ears primed, turned in the direction of the sound. There, on the far side of the water, stood a pure white mare. She flicked her tail and whinnied again. Dusty snorted and stepped a few paces closer. They had seen her several times before, always alone in the valley, and she always seemed to brazenly study Dusty. Elliott laid his hand along the big stallions neck and whispered, “Steady there boy. She’s teasing you, but I think she likes you.”

Dusty snorted again and took another step closer. The mare whinnied, shook her mane, then turned and disappeared into the trees. Dusty moved forward several steps, but Elliott tugged on the reins. Obediently the big horse stood firm. They rode around the pond to where an ancient lightning-struck pine stood and Elliott tied up the horse near some sweet grass. Elliott, as he always did, leaned back against the trunk of a fallen tree and a half buried granite boulder in the cool shadows and watched the rays of the setting sun dance across the water. A cool breeze came down the mountains and dragon flies darted and dashed across the still water of the pond. As Elliott closed his eyes he murmured, “Such a beautiful land.”

After Elliott returned Dusty to the barn he walked slowly back to the ranch house. As old as the big horse was he still had heart. He could run for miles and had worn Elliott out. He was more tired than he could remember being in a long time. He switched on the Hi-Def big screen in the den. He clicked through some of the news channels and they were all covering the same thing; the simultaneous massive escape of prisoners. CNN was calling it ‘The Great Escape II’ and many commentators were speculating as to who was behind it and what the purpose might be of such a concerted effort. FOX News was sure it was a terrorist plot. One PBS station reported forty former prisoners had been recaptured and the spike in crime which had been anticipated had so far failed to materialize.

Elliott sipped his scotch and rubbed his eyes. Reaching over he picked up the phone and called his attorney.

“Robert, it’s time to start phase two.”

“Yes sir. The writers have been itching to start.”

“Good, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Elliott rose, padded to the bedroom, changed into his bed clothes, brushed his teeth, took six Advil and went to bed.

Chapter Thirteen

The proper authorities were approached by Robert Dale, Elliott’s lead attorney. An agreement in principal was reached and a news conference was hastily called. A team of writers, well paid by one of Elliott’s closely held corporations, submitted articles to TIME Magazine, People Magazine, Newsweek and a host of other weekly standards. Bloggers took to the Internet and other writers submitted editorial pieces to major newspapers across the nation and the Associated Press. They all carried the same message. The escapees were being offered amnesty. If they turned themselves in they would be given food and shelter, but more importantly they would be offered vocational training in a field of their choosing and their sentences would be commuted.

Standing before the sea of news cameras and microphones, Attorney Dale spoke slowly and purposefully.

“I am speaking to the prison escapees. I hold in my hand a check for 1.2 million dollars. Upon orders from my client I will sign a purchase agreement for the former and now empty prison complex outside Beaumont, Texas. It will be converted into a virtual university. Libraries, gymnasiums, pool and spa as well as specialized vocational wings will dot the campus. Job training and special vocational classes will be available. Meals will be provided at no cost. All convictions will be reviewed and sentences will be commuted upon completion of your chosen course curriculum. All you need do is approach the nearest police station and surrender to the authorities. You will be transported to the Beaumont facility as quickly as possible. You are being given a new lease on life. You will be housed, fed and given a general education as well as vocational training in the field you wish to pursue. This is not a trick, ruse or underhanded attempt to place you back in jail. This is an attempt at total rehabilitation. It is being offered to you with the belief that you have not been given a fair shake in life. You will be given a second opportunity to prove you are good people and good citizens. Thank you very much.”

The news wires sprang alive carrying the speech to every corner of the nation. Again speculation ran rampant as to who the mysterious benefactor might be and what he, or she, might have in mind long term. FOX News was certain it had to be a plan hatched by Oprah.

Later that same afternoon the heads of all the major banks held a news conference. Blankenship was the spokesperson, flanked by the rest of his cronies. He read from a prepared text.

“Due to the nature of the economic situation in the United States, what some call the ‘jobless recovery’ or ‘The Great Recession’, we at all the major banks as of this moment are reducing the interest rates on all outstanding credit card balances to 7%. It is our way of saying, ‘we understand, America’. We’re all hurting and we’ll do our part. It is our intention to hold these rates this low for at least three years, and possibly more if we can.”

Not one of the faces behind him, nor Blankenship himself, showed any great joy in the announcement. Each anticipated their vast holdings of company stock would plummet. Some had even sold off immense numbers of shares. Their fears proved to be well founded. Investors howled. By late that afternoon even the blue-chip stalwart Bank of America had seen its shares fall from $51 to a low of $38 before rebounding to $42.

Something little watched in the aftermath of these two huge announcements was a statement by the head of Sallie Mae that he was reducing the rates on all the outstanding student loans to 7% as well. Kenny Borel looked equally as uncomfortable as the bankers had.

Eddie Kelley and James Lally, still ensconced at the Comfort Inn, didn’t miss the speech. They jumped, whooped, hollered and gave each other high fives.

Chapter Fourteen

Elliott Eastman groaned as his cell phone on the night stand rang. It was five in the morning. He pressed the button and said, “Hello, Elliott speaking.”

“Can you hold for a moment sir? The President would like to speak with you.”

Leaning back on his pillows Elliott explored his right side with his hand, pressing in here and there to determine the extent of the area where pain registered. As his hand slipped below his ribs he gasped in pain.

The President came on the line at that moment and heard the gasp.

“Is everything okay Elliott?”

“Yes, it’s fine. Good morning, Mr. President.”

“I wanted to pass along the good news. I’ve spoken at length with my cabinet and advisors. We’re going forward with the Transaction Fee Bill on one condition. I’d like to meet with the chairman of the Securities and Exchange Commission and you at the White House at your earliest convenience. I would also like to hear from your experts from Harvard, Stanford and MIT. I want to hear it straight from Sam Goldman that he backs the idea. I’ll have the head of the Treasury Department and probably the chairman of the Congressional Budget Office here as well.”

Elliott was silent for a moment and then said softly, “I’ll be there Paul, but I was hoping to keep my name out of this so the fewer folks you invite the better. They can still vet the plan in great detail after we have concluded our meeting.”

The President was silent for a moment and then said, “I understand your wish to remain anonymous, but perhaps you can be an impartial observer and merely say a few words. I promise your name will not be bandied about to the media.”

“Thank you, I think it’s important I keep a low profile. Paul, I have a question. Was it the ten million dollar donation to your re-election that swayed you?”

The President paused again.

“I’d be lying if I said no, but it’s more than that. Did you see Blankenship’s speech last night? They’re stepping up. If the banks are stepping up then now might be the time to cut the oil company and farm subsidies. It might be time to go for the whole economic package. I could be remembered as the president who finally brought it all together, the president who brought us back from the brink. I’ll be honest with you Elliott, I’ve seen the numbers. We are on the brink. This is the time and the place to get America back to what it should have been all along, and this is the way to do it, with big, bold ideas. The Transaction Fee will be the centerpiece. I’ll be honest, I’ve had some of my people explore the numbers and it looks very promising. It looks as though what you have suggested is easily within our grasp and doesn’t impact the average Joe.”

“Okay, you don’t need to be speechifying to me. You already had my vote, but don’t forget the spending cuts. It’s the other side of the bill and is equally important.”

President Paul White laughed more freely than he had in a long time. It was good to hear, Elliott thought.

“Okay, okay. I’ll contact Sam Goldman at the SEC and see when he can make it and get back to you.”

A short while later Elliott was in the shower, having taken another six Advil, and in spite of the pain actually found himself whistling softly. The president was on board!