A Father's Justice

A Father's Justice, Pt. 04

Many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen.

At least on paper...

To understand the full context of what is taking place here, I suggest you first read, "A Father's Justice Pt. 01,""A Father's Justice Pt. 02" and "A Father's Justice Pt.03."

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc.

(Yes, I moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

...

End of "A Father's Justice, Pt. 03":

The plane landed and Ryan got off. After grabbing his duffel bag, he walked to his truck and headed home. Home, sweet home, he thought. He was almost there, when he saw a lone figure walking alongside the road, carrying a suitcase.

As he got closer, he could tell it was a woman. Then he recognized who it was -- Beverly Simons, the 45-year-old widow who lived just down the road from him. He wondered what she was doing out here on the hot road like this, so he pulled up and stopped next to her.

"Ms. Simons," he asked. She turned a tear-streaked face to him. "Are you okay, ma'am?" She shook her head as tears flooded down her face. "Come on, get inside. It's too hot to be out there like that."

"Are you sure, Mr. Caldwell?" she asked. "I don't want to impose."

"I'm sure," he said. He got out, put her suitcase in the back seat and opened the front door for her. He closed the door after she got in. He climbed back into the driver's seat and looked at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. As if on cue, she began sobbing uncontrollably. He held her in his arms as she cried.

"I've lost it all," she cried. "Everything." He held her as she wailed. Wonderful, he thought. Another crisis...

...

And now, A Father's Justice, Pt. 04:

"What do you mean, you've lost everything?" he asked the woman crying in his front seat.

"The house, my car, all my furniture, everything," she wailed through her tears. "Even my chickens." She started crying even harder, her face turning beet red. "My defenseless chickens. They'll die if I'm not there to feed them." He knew she kept chickens and sold eggs to families in town to supplement what she got from her husband's Social Security and he knew they meant a lot to her.

"How did this happen?" he asked. "Did someone come and take your property?"

"The sheriff was out this morning and said if I didn't have the money I owed the bank I had to leave," she said as she sobbed.

"So where were you going?" he asked.

"Down to the creek," she said. "I have no where else to go, so I thought everything would be better if I just went there and died," she said. That brought on another crying jag. Saddened by her plight, he held her for a few minutes.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asked.

"I don't want to be a burden," she said. "My poor Wallace would be so ashamed of me if he knew about this." He knew Wallace was her deceased husband. He had never met the man, but heard good things about him from folks in town.

"It's no burden," he said. "How much do you owe?"

"Too much," she said. "About $170,000. I had all my bills consolidated through the bank and I've done everything I could to make ends meet. I've even stopped eating every other day to save money, but it's not enough. Every time I think things are gonna work out, they turn to shit. I'd be better off dead."

"Nonsense," Ryan said. "Where do you bank?"

"First National Bank in town," she said. "There's nothing you can do. All they want is their money."

"That's where I bank as well," Ryan said. "Let me make a call." He pulled out his wallet and found the business card he was looking for, then grabbed his phone.

"First National Bank," a receptionist said when she answered the phone.

"I'd like to speak with Jay Goldsmith, please," Ryan said.

"Let me see if Mr. Goldsmith is available," the receptionist said. "May I ask who's calling?"

"Tell him it's Ryan Caldwell, and if wants to keep my business, he'll become available," Ryan said.

"Oh, yes sir, Mr. Caldwell. Just one moment, please," she said. A few seconds later, Jay was on the phone.

"Mr. Caldwell," he said, sounding excited. "Good to hear from you, sir. What can I do for you today?"

"You can tell me what's going on with Beverly Simons," Ryan said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Caldwell, privacy regulations prohibit me from divulging that kind of information," he said.

"You'll be a lot sorrier when I pull my account from your bank," Ryan said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Caldwell, but those are the rules, and I have to follow them," Jay said. "Besides, why are you involved?"

"She's sitting in my truck right now, crying her eyes out, telling me she's going to commit suicide because you had the sheriff come and evict her from her home," Ryan said. "Tell me, Mr. Goldsmith, what kind of a piece of shit kicks a widow out of her own house with nothing but the clothes on her back just because she's down on her luck?"

"Mr. Caldwell, please understand," Jay began. "I don't like it any more than you do. We've done everything we legally can to help her out, but this has been coming for quite some time. My hands are tied. Her account needs to be cleared."

"So if her bill gets paid, you'll release her house back to her?" Ryan asked.

"Well, yes," Jay said. "But there's other issues. Her debt to income ratio is very high. I'm afraid this will only happen again later on."

"You let me worry about that, Jay," Ryan said. "Tell you what. I'm coming into town and we're gonna get this mess straightened out. Get her paperwork ready and make sure that piece of crap sheriff is there to return her keys. What's the deadline?"

"Well, five o'clock today, closing time," Jay said. Ryan looked at his watch.

"It's 11:30 right now," Ryan said. "I'm turning around and I'll be there in just a little bit. And you'd better be there. Got it?"

"Why, yes sir, Mr. Caldwell," Jay said. "I'll be right here. And thank you, Mr. Caldwell. From the bottom of my heart."

"You're welcome," Ryan said. He ended the call and looked at Beverly. Her eyes were wide and she looked shocked. "Come on, Ms. Simons, let's go get your house back." She broke into a wide smile and threw her arms around his neck.

"Thank you, Mr. Caldwell," she said. "That's the kindest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"It's my pleasure," he said. "And please, call me Ryan. Mr. Caldwell was my father." She laughed for the first time in a very long time.

"Please call me Beverly. Or Bev. That's what all my friends call me," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. Ryan whipped his truck around, spraying gravel, and headed back to town.

"So, Bev," he said. "What happened, if you don't mind my asking?"

"The last several years haven't been easy on us," she said. "Wallace was a hard worker and always took care of things. But he started having medical problems. He got diabetes, but he wouldn't adjust his diet like the doctor said. I tried to get him to eat right, but he wouldn't hear it. It got so bad they ended up amputating his feet. After that, he started having problems with his kidneys and had to go through dialysis. It got so he couldn't take care of the crops, so he sold the fields and the equipment.

"That helped some, but then he started having other medical problems. It was one thing after another after another. We took a loan on the house to help pay for everything. He went on Social Security and had a major heart attack about seven or eight months later. He never survived," he said.

"It took up pretty much everything we had to pay for his final expenses and his funeral," she said. "I got some of his Social Security, and sold eggs to make ends meet. It wasn't easy, but I managed. I still had the mortgage and everything to pay for, and my monthly expenses took up pretty much everything coming in. Then this damn coronavirus hit. Half the town's out of work now and my egg sales have nearly dried up. Jay did everything he could, extending credit and all, but it just wasn't enough. Then my car broke down and I had to get it fixed. That took up nearly a month's income. Now this."

"You say your husband was on Social Security?" Ryan asked. "He must've been about what, 25 years older than you?"

"Yeah," she said. "I've known him all my life. He was a friend of my parents. They died in a car crash and he took me in. They were dirt poor all their lives and didn't have anything, really. They didn't even own the trailer we lived in. Wallace let me stay with him after they died. I didn't want to be a freeloader, so I helped him on the farm. I cooked, took care of the house and all the animals while he tended the fields. He offered to send me to school, but I told him no."

"Why?" Ryan asked.

"All I ever wanted to be was a wife and a mother," she said. "Don't need no college education for that."

"Reckon not," Ryan said.

"Anyway, Wallace and I fell in love," she said. "I always had a bit of a crush on him, so it was pretty easy for me. We got married, had a boy and I thought we'd be together forever. Then he died."

"I've heard good things about him," Ryan said.

"He was a good man," she said. "He worked hard, helped his neighbors when they needed it, took good care of me and our boy, Jason. He never got drunk, was never abusive and was always there for us."

"Sounds like you two were very happy," he said.

"We were," she said. "We were crazy in love with each other." She started crying again. "Now I've lost everything we worked so hard for."

"You haven't lost it yet," Ryan said. "We're here," he added as he pulled into the bank parking lot. "Might want to clean up a bit," he said, handing her a clean handkerchief. She wiped her face and checked her makeup in the mirror on the passenger side visor.

"You ready?" he asked. She looked at him and nodded her head. "Good," he said, smiling. "Let's git 'er done." She chuckled and got out of the truck. They walked into the bank and Ryan headed straight for the elevator. They got in and Ryan punched the button for the fourth floor where Jay's office was located. An attractive receptionist met them as they got off the elevator.

"Mr. Goldsmith is expecting you, Mr. Caldwell," she said. "Please, go right in." Beverly looked at Ryan and wondered who this man was and how did he command so much deference. She didn't know anything about the man who bought the old Winters place, and thought he was just a lonely drifter, living in that old, run-down house. He certainly didn't look like anyone special in that battered old hat, jeans and plain western shirt. And what happened to his face, she asked herself.

"Thank you," Ryan said, walking to a set of double doors. He opened the door and motioned for Beverly to go in first, then closed the door after walking through. Jay stood up from behind his desk and extended a hand. Ryan shook it and nodded at Sheriff Coltrane, who also stood up to shake his hand.

"Let's get this done, shall we?" Ryan asked. Jay nodded his head. "What does Ms. Simons owe, total?" Jay wrote a number on a piece of paper and handed it to him -- $175,253.84. Ryan looked at Jay.

"And if this is paid, you'll release everything back to her?" he asked.

"Yes," Jay said. "But like I said before," he began before Ryan cut him off.

"Yeah, I know," Ryan said. "Income to debt ratio. But if her debts are paid, that shouldn't be a problem, should it? I was led to understand this is the sum total of what she owes for everything."

"That's true," Jay said. "But she still has monthly expenses to consider. Bills, utilities, gas, food, what have you. What she has coming in now barely covers that."

"Okay," Ryan said. "Let me worry about that. What do we have to do?" Jay positioned a card reader on his desk.

"Just insert your debit card and punch in your code," he said. After Ryan did that, he continued. "Now punch in the amount you want to transfer," Jay added. Ryan did some quick math in his head and punched in $1,750,000.84. It was just under one percent of what he had deposited in Jay's bank, but he felt Beverly deserved a break.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Jay asked, his eyes wide.

"Absolutely," Ryan said. "That should mitigate any concerns over income to debt ratios, don't you think? Even after whatever taxes she might have to pay, that should last her a good long time."

"Yes, it will," Jay said. He turned to Beverly. "Ms. Simons, if you could, please, insert your ATM card so we can complete this?" Beverly nodded her head, pulled out her card and inserted it in the reader. As they watched, Jay clicked a few buttons on his computer and watched.

"The transfer has been made," he said. "Let me just make one more transfer. Hang on." They watched as he typed something on his computer. He hit enter and watched for a few moments more. Then he punched a button on his phone and his receptionist answered.

"Yes?" the receptionist answered.

"Mrs. Barber, would you please come into my office?" he asked. "And bring your notary stamp, if you would please."

"Right away, sir," she said. A few moments later, she came into the office. Jay looked at Sheriff Coltrane.

"Sheriff, would you please witness my signature on this?" he asked.

"I'd be honored to," the sheriff said, standing up. They signed all the papers and Mrs. Barber notarized them when they were done. She made copies and brought them back to Jay, who handed a copy of the paperwork to Beverly.

"Ms. Simons, here's paperwork showing all your debts to this bank are paid in full," he said. "You'll get the deed to your property and the title on your car in the next few days." He turned to the sheriff and handed him another set of paperwork. "Sheriff, if you would please, run this over to the courthouse and get it filed, effective immediately."

"It'll be my pleasure," the big man said, taking the paperwork. "While I'm at it, I'll get the paper to drop that public notice. Don't want folks to get the wrong idea."

"Do that," Jay said. It was common for the local paper to publish public notices on legal matters like foreclosures, divorces and auctions. Sheriff Coltrane stood before Jake, the papers in his hands.

"Mr. Caldwell," he said. "I want you to know that it plum broke my heart to do what I did earlier. I take no pleasure out of that. Please accept my apologies."

"Accepted," Ryan said. "But I think she's the one you need to apologize to."

"You're right," the sheriff said. He considered Ryan a bit before continuing. "I don't know if you're a church-going man or not, Mr. Caldwell, but I get the feeling it was God's will for you two to meet out there like you did." He glanced at Beverly before continuing. "You do know he's single, like you, right, Ms. Simons?" She shook her head.

"I didn't know," she said. Sheriff Coltrane smiled as he nodded his head. He fished a set of keys out of his pocket and handed them to her.

"I'll get a deputy over to your place and have him take off all the locks," he said. "You take good care of this man now, you hear me?" She smiled as she took the keys.

"Thank you, sheriff," she said. "I will." He turned back to Ryan.

"That was the damndest thing I ever did see," he told Ryan. "You're a good man, Mr. Caldwell, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"I appreciate that sheriff," Ryan said.

"You let me know if there's anything I can ever do for ya, okay?" the sheriff said.

"Well, there is one thing," Ryan said.

"What's that?" Sheriff Coltrane asked.

"No publicity," Ryan said. "I know how something like this can get out in a small town, and I don't want any publicity."

"You got it," the sheriff said. "Y'all have a nice day now, y'hear?" he asked, touching his gray Stetson before he left.

"Here's your new balance, Ms. Simons," Jay said, handing Beverly a small slip of paper. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at the balance. She turned to Ryan.

"I can't accept all this," she said. "I'll never be able to repay you." Ryan smiled.

"Don't even think about it," Ryan said. "And yes, you can accept it." He turned to Jay. "I trust you'll have one of your financial advisers work with her to create a budget and manage this so it lasts her for a while."

"I'll take care of it myself," Jay said. "Just curious, why did you do this?"

"I don't mind helping someone who's making an honest effort," Ryan said. "Besides, I know what it's like to lose everything that means anything to you. A wise old man gave me a second chance once, so I figured I'd pay it forward."

"I understand," Jay said. He turned to Beverly. "Give me a call this week and we'll set up an appointment, okay Ms. Simons?" he asked. She nodded her head.

"I will," she said. "Thank you so much." They said their goodbyes and walked out of the bank. Beverly was stunned by what Ryan had done and wondered what he wanted in return. He opened the door of his truck and helped her inside, then climbed in behind the wheel.

"When was the last time you had a decent meal?" he asked.

"It's been quite a while," she said. "Why?"

"I don't know about you, but I could eat something," he said. "Why don't you let me treat you to a nice lunch?"

"Are you sure?" she asked. "After everything you've already done?"

"It's only lunch," he said. "Besides, it'll take a while for the deputy to get out to your place."

"Okay," she said. "It's just been a while since a handsome man asked me out."

"Maybe we should see about getting your eyes checked while we're at it," Ryan said, indicating his scar. Beverly smiled.

"Call it a woman's intuition," she said. "But I suspect under that rough exterior is a kind, handsome man." Ryan chuckled as he started truck. They left the bank and pulled into a steak house along the main drag. They went inside and was escorted to a booth in the back.

"This is the first time I've ever been here," she said. "Looks expensive."

"I've eaten here a time or two," he said. "They make real nice sirloin. You should try it."

"Maybe I will," she said. "It's been a long time since I've had a steak." They placed their order and waited for the food to arrive.

"So," Beverly said. "I've told you my story. What's yours? What did you mean about knowing what it's like to lose everything?"

"I was married once as well," he said. "A long time ago. Thought I had a good life. Then it all went down the toilet."

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I was a mechanic," he said. "A certified ASE Master Mechanic. Had dreams of opening my own shop one day."

"A mechanic?" she asked. "Do you still work on cars?"

"Not for a long time," he said.

"What happened, if you don't mind my asking," she said.

"I don't mind," he said. "Was married for about 17 years to my high school sweetheart. Had a good job, a nice home, a family. Wife came home one day and announced she was divorcing me. Said she didn't want to be married to a grease monkey who wasn't going anywhere. Seems she found greener pastures with a rich oil tycoon."

"Oh my God," Beverly said. "That must've been horrible."

"It was," he said. "And to add insult to injury, my daughter announced she was going with my wife."

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"Not your fault," he said. "That day, they both died to me. So did my dreams."

"That had to have hurt so much," she said. "I can't even begin to imagine what that felt like."

"Sure you can," Ryan said. "I felt pretty much the same way you did when I picked you up this morning."

"But you still had your house, right?" she asked. "You still had your job and your dream of opening your own shop."