rather than simple misery.
Next to her, Sheff ’s uncle shrugged. “I don’t really mind, Lemon.”
Mrs. Parker swiveled her head to glare at her brother. “So, fine. You’re a full-growed man, Jem. What about my little boy?”
The man behind the desk chuckled, causing his immense chest to ripple the fancy cloth. “Don’t look so ‘little’ to me, ma’am. He’s not too tall, but he’s powerful wide in the shoulders.”
Now she glared at the banker. “It isn’t fair!”
Crowell sighed and sat up straighter in his chair. Then, planting two huge hands on the desk, he leaned forward and spoke softly. Softly, but very firmly.
“Mrs. Parker, there is no magic here in Arkansas. ’Less you believe in the voudou business, but not even Marie Laveau claims she can conjure up food and shelter out of spiderwebs. You came here with nothing. No money, no tools beyond a few knives and such, no capital, no livestock, not much at all beyond the clothes on your backs—and those, meaning no offense, you couldn’t sell even if you wanted to. They’re not far removed from rags.”
Sheff ’s mother set her jaws. “We was poor to begin with. Then, what with havin’ to leave Baltimore so sudden…”
“I am not
blaming
you, Mrs. Parker. Just pointing out the facts of life. How do you propose to survive while you start making a living?”
She started to say something, but Crowell cut her off.
“Never mind that. ‘Survive’ isn’t the word I meant. I don’t doubt you could ‘survive,’ but you’d be so dirt poor you’d be nothing but an anchor dragging behind this community. We don’t need that, Mrs. Parker. The last thing Arkansas needs is dead weight. Meaning no offense, but that’s what dirt-poor people are. Dead weight.”
He pushed himself back from the chair a little. “Patrick established that as the very first rule, here—and all of us in the Iron Battalion agreed with him. Black people are welcome in Arkansas, but they’ve got to pull their weight. That’s the main reason we set up this bank in the first place, back then. We’ll loan people money to get started, but they’ve got to put up collateral. And if they’ve got nothing but able-bodied men in the family, then those men have to agree to serve a term of enlistment in the army.”
“What if we were just women?” his mother asked, her eyes narrowing. “Did you and this fancy ‘Mr. Patrick’ set up a whorehouse, too? Loan us money if we put up our cunts for collateral?”
Uncle Jem winced. “Lemon!”
But all Crowell did was chuckle again. “No, Mrs. Parker. Patrick and I are running no brothels in this town. There are a couple, I’m told, but they’re strictly private enterprise. To answer your question, if the borrowers are females only, we’ll accept a job in one of the local workshops as collateral. But the terms aren’t as good.”
“What
are
the terms, Mr. Crowell?” Sheff ’s uncle spoke a bit hastily, probably to keep his sister from another outburst.
The big banker looked at him. “Good as you could ask for. We’ll loan any family three hundred dollars for every man who enlists, two hundred for every woman or boy or girl in a workshop. The interest is five percent, compounded annually. The loan has to be paid back monthly—but we’ll waive the interest for the whole family as long as at least one man is serving in the colors. And for every man who completes a term of service satisfactorily, we’ll knock a percentage point off the interest.”
He glanced at Sheff ’s mother and sister, and then at Sheff. “In your case, that means we’ll loan you a thousand dollars even. No interest accumulates as long as either you or young Sheffield is still in the colors. Once both of you have finished your terms of duty—assuming you were discharged honorably—we’ll start charging you three percent on whatever the balance is. The truth is, you can’t find a better loan anywhere. Either here or in the United
Next to her, Sheff ’s uncle shrugged. “I don’t really mind, Lemon.”
Mrs. Parker swiveled her head to glare at her brother. “So, fine. You’re a full-growed man, Jem. What about my little boy?”
The man behind the desk chuckled, causing his immense chest to ripple the fancy cloth. “Don’t look so ‘little’ to me, ma’am. He’s not too tall, but he’s powerful wide in the shoulders.”
Now she glared at the banker. “It isn’t fair!”
Crowell sighed and sat up straighter in his chair. Then, planting two huge hands on the desk, he leaned forward and spoke softly. Softly, but very firmly.
“Mrs. Parker, there is no magic here in Arkansas. ’Less you believe in the voudou business, but not even Marie Laveau claims she can conjure up food and shelter out of spiderwebs. You came here with nothing. No money, no tools beyond a few knives and such, no capital, no livestock, not much at all beyond the clothes on your backs—and those, meaning no offense, you couldn’t sell even if you wanted to. They’re not far removed from rags.”
Sheff ’s mother set her jaws. “We was poor to begin with. Then, what with havin’ to leave Baltimore so sudden…”
“I am not
blaming
you, Mrs. Parker. Just pointing out the facts of life. How do you propose to survive while you start making a living?”
She started to say something, but Crowell cut her off.
“Never mind that. ‘Survive’ isn’t the word I meant. I don’t doubt you could ‘survive,’ but you’d be so dirt poor you’d be nothing but an anchor dragging behind this community. We don’t need that, Mrs. Parker. The last thing Arkansas needs is dead weight. Meaning no offense, but that’s what dirt-poor people are. Dead weight.”
He pushed himself back from the chair a little. “Patrick established that as the very first rule, here—and all of us in the Iron Battalion agreed with him. Black people are welcome in Arkansas, but they’ve got to pull their weight. That’s the main reason we set up this bank in the first place, back then. We’ll loan people money to get started, but they’ve got to put up collateral. And if they’ve got nothing but able-bodied men in the family, then those men have to agree to serve a term of enlistment in the army.”
“What if we were just women?” his mother asked, her eyes narrowing. “Did you and this fancy ‘Mr. Patrick’ set up a whorehouse, too? Loan us money if we put up our cunts for collateral?”
Uncle Jem winced. “Lemon!”
But all Crowell did was chuckle again. “No, Mrs. Parker. Patrick and I are running no brothels in this town. There are a couple, I’m told, but they’re strictly private enterprise. To answer your question, if the borrowers are females only, we’ll accept a job in one of the local workshops as collateral. But the terms aren’t as good.”
“What
are
the terms, Mr. Crowell?” Sheff ’s uncle spoke a bit hastily, probably to keep his sister from another outburst.
The big banker looked at him. “Good as you could ask for. We’ll loan any family three hundred dollars for every man who enlists, two hundred for every woman or boy or girl in a workshop. The interest is five percent, compounded annually. The loan has to be paid back monthly—but we’ll waive the interest for the whole family as long as at least one man is serving in the colors. And for every man who completes a term of service satisfactorily, we’ll knock a percentage point off the interest.”
He glanced at Sheff ’s mother and sister, and then at Sheff. “In your case, that means we’ll loan you a thousand dollars even. No interest accumulates as long as either you or young Sheffield is still in the colors. Once both of you have finished your terms of duty—assuming you were discharged honorably—we’ll start charging you three percent on whatever the balance is. The truth is, you can’t find a better loan anywhere. Either here or in the United
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