The Land(112)

I left B. R. Tillman. I went to other bankers, but they pretty much said the same thing. I wasn’t ready to accept defeat. I went to see Luke Sawyer, got a couple orders from him for which I already had the wood, and spent the night in his shed before leaving Vicksburg. On the ride back all I was thinking on was how I could still buy the land. Nothing came to me. I bypassed the forty and headed toward Hollenbeck’s meadow. I had another day before I had to let J. T. Hollenbeck know if the deal was set. I rode to the pond and let the mule water. Afterward, I rode back to the meadow and settled on the slope where I’d first spent the night. I slid my gear off the mule’s back and settled down to look out over the land beside what I now considered my praying rock, and I prayed to be shown a way to have this land. I sat there until nightfall before I finally rolled out my blanket and lay down. I put everything into the Lord’s hands. In the middle of the night I woke, took my coat, and by the light of the full moon, ripped one of its seams and pulled out a thin wallet I had made from calfskin. I put the wallet in my pocket, then went back to sleep. The next morning I woke with a plan, and it was that plan I took to J. T. Hollenbeck.





“You said you wanted to have all your land sold before you leave and you wanted cash for it,” I said as I sat with J. T. Hollenbeck on his front porch. He had been doing paperwork on the porch when I arrived, and he had invited me to join him there. He had even offered me a seat. Not every white man would have done that.

J. T. Hollenbeck nodded, and puffed on a cigar. “That’s right.”

“Well, at your asking price of ten dollars an acre, I’d be figuring to buy two hundred acres of that section we talked about.”

“Thought it was supposed to be four hundred.”

“It was,” I admitted. I met his eyes. “It’s two hundred now. But it still includes that meadowland centering near that hillside and the pond.”

J. T. Hollenbeck studied me a few moments, as if deciding whether or not it was worth his while to hear me out. “Go on,” he finally said.

“Now, at ten dollars an acre, I could make you a down payment of twenty-five percent on contracting the land,” I continued calmly, trying not to sound anxious that he might reject my offer. “That would be five hundred dollars on signing, and I could pay twenty dollars a month for the next six months. In the seventh month, I’ll pay the rest that’s due, thirteen hundred eighty dollars.”

J. T. Hollenbeck stared at me, then smiled slightly. “Now, how are you going to get thirteen hundred eighty dollars in half a year’s time? You have yourself a bank loan?”

“Not a bank loan,” I said. “I plan on selling off the forty acres I’m working.”

“But I understand you don’t have title on that land.”

“I will by the time your note would be due.”

“What about the remainder of the money? That forty acres won’t bring you near enough to pay for my two hundred acres.”

“I understand that. But I plan to plant cotton too. I’ve already bought my seed, and if cotton prices stay the same as in this past year, I figure to earn about four hundred dollars on the crop. Also, I can have as many orders to make furniture as I can handle from Mister Luke Sawyer up at the Vicksburg mercantile and I figure in the next seven months I can earn two hundred dollars for my work.”

J. T. Hollenbeck slowly shook his head. “That still doesn’t seem to me like that’ll bring enough.”

I had held back my final source of income. “I also figure to sell my palomino.”

J. T. Hollenbeck studied me and was silent. He drew on his cigar, then took it out. “Six months, you say?”

“Seven months,” I answered, correcting him.

J. T. Hollenbeck’s eyes narrowed. “Now, why should I have to finance you for my own land for that period of time? I told you I wanted cash money on this transaction. Could be it’d be better for me to sell outright that piece of land you want.”

I agreed. “But you’ve got a lot of land here to sell, and I’m willing to buy. You’ll have five hundred dollars when we sign. You’ll be getting a payment every month, and the land will stand as its own collateral.” I paused. “I fail to make any payment to you on time—monthly or the last one—I’m willing to pay a penalty.” Now, it might not have been very smart of me to volunteer to pay even more money if I didn’t need to, but I was hoping to persuade J. T. Hollenbeck of my commitment to pay him his money, and on time.

J. T. Hollenbeck stared at me, then thrust his cigar back between his lips and walked the length of the veranda to the other end and stared out, his back to me. I waited patiently. J. T. Hollenbeck took his time. Finally he turned, took the cigar out of his mouth, and pointed at me with the hand that held the cigar. “The down payment would have to be eight hundred fifty dollars, not five hundred, and that monthly payment would have to be twenty-five dollars, plus five dollars for me carrying you. Seeing that it’s already the end of February, payments would begin next month and the final payment of one thousand dollars will come due the end of September. According to what you’ve said, you should have title to that Granger piece of land by then. If you’re smart enough to work a deal with me, then I figure you’re smart enough to have found a way to sell that forty acres of yours in time to pay me. I’ll give you seven months, not a day more.