Chapter Text
Palms of glory, raiment bright,
Crowns that never fade away,
Gird and deck the saints in light,
Priests, and kings, and conquerors they.
Yet the conquerors bring their palms
To the Lamb amidst the throne,
And proclaim in joyful psalms
Victory through His cross alone.
Kings for harps their crowns resign,
Crying, as they strike the chords,
“Take the kingdom, it is Thine,
King of kings, and Lord of lords.”
Round the altar priests confess,
If their robes are white as snow,
’Twas the Saviour’s righteousness
And His blood that made them so.
Who were these? On earth they dwelt,
Sinners once of Adam’s race,
Guilt and fear and suffering felt,
But were saved by sovereign grace.
They were mortal too like us;
O, when we like them shall die,
May our souls translated thus
Triumph, reign, and shine on high.
‘Palms of Glory’ by James Montgomery , 1829
Nick Barkley reached into the bed of his truck to pull out another fence post before taking his hat off to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He surveyed the section of fence line that had been damaged by a downed tree in last night’s windstorm and reckoned it would take the rest of the day and probably most of tomorrow to repair. As he unloaded the last post, he felt a buzzing in his back pocket, took out his phone and cursed. He’d totally forgotten he promised to pick his brother and mother up at the airport. Slamming the tailgate shut, Nick got behind the wheel and considered if he had enough time to go back to the house for a shower, a clean shirt and exchange his farm truck for the Cadillac. Nope, the only way he was going to make it on time was to go directly from where he was, cut across and join the highway on the other side of the pasture, dirty shirt, dirty truck and all. He put the big diesel into gear and sped across the field, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.
He made it to the executive terminal at the Stockton Airport with a few minutes to spare and thankfully had time to move the tools out of the cab and brush off the seats. Then Nick leaned against the side of the truck, arms crossed as he waited. He got a few annoyed looks, likely comparing the state of his clothes and the condition of his truck to their pristine suits and immaculate luxury cars. Well, he ran a working ranch and it was a working truck, not like the ones some of the young punks drove around trying to compensate for something they were probably lacking. So Nick just smiled and touched the brim of his hat whenever someone looked his way and soon his mother and brother came out of the building, a porter following with their luggage.
“Nick!” Jarrod exclaimed.
“Ha ha! How’ve you been, boy?” Nick practically picked him up with the exuberance of his hug as their mother turned to pay the porter.
Jarrod looked at his brother critically. “Say where’ve you been? Through the mill?”
“No, I’ve been chasing the wind, boy, hollering at the breeze.” Nick gave his brother a once over as well and patted his middle. “Hey, you’re getting fat.”
Jarrod snorted. “What are you talking about? A mere pound.”
Their mother came over and gave Nick a kiss on the cheek. “Nick, dear, you’re filthy. And did you have to pick us up in your truck?
Nick just grinned and gave her a hug, dirt, sweat and all. “Sorry, I was in the middle of some fence repairs when I realized the time. Flight was good?”
“No troubles,” Victoria assured him, “but even though the jet’s comfortable, I’m exhausted and looking forward to being home.”
“How was D.C.?”
“Cold,” Jarrod said with a frown as he helped Nick put the luggage in the back of the truck.
Nick tossed in the last suitcase. “Well, if it’s heat you want, we’ve got it here.” He opened the passenger side door and helped his mother into the cab as Jarrod got in the back. Settling into the driver’s seat and pulling out onto the road, he continued. “Our farm manager decided to let over a quarter of the acreage go fallow this year due to the drought. Lost half the almond trees, but those chickpeas I talked him into are doing pretty well. The stock’s okay, I moved them closer to the river and our reservoir’s holding out. The vineyards seem to be doing good too.” He glanced over at his mother, then in the rear view mirror to see Jarrod take out his phone, likely checking his messages. “How’d the meeting with the FTC go?”
Jarrod shook his head. “We got nowhere. They upheld Jordon’s buyout of the loans and I’m pretty sure he’s going to start calling them in soon. We’re just lucky Barkley Sierra has a bigger cash flow than some of the smaller operators and our balance sheets are well in the black. We’ll feel it, but it won’t be a problem.”
“Hmph.” Hannibal Jordan had come onto the California business scene less than a year ago. He’d initially tried to buy out the leases of some of the independent oil producers and when that achieved less than the desired result, he’d quietly gone around, buying up loans. The smaller outfits has a tendency to overextend themselves, so if Jordan did call the loans in, most of them would have to sell.
There were a few vehicles parked in front of the house when they got home.
“I see Gene’s home from university,” Victoria observed, recognizing her youngest son’s car, and sure enough, Eugene immediately came out of the house to greet them.
“Hey, Ma!” The sandy-haired young man gave her a kiss on the cheek before shaking his oldest brother’s hand energetically. “Jarrod!”
Jarrod clapped him on the arm. “Hi, there, doctor. Or is it lawyer this week?” Taking Gene’s face in his hands, he then teased, “No, by heaven, Nick, I think it’s poet. He’s got that look in his eye.” He slapped Gene’s cheek playfully.
But Nick was more focused on the other vehicles. He was pretty sure he knew whose they were and from what Jarrod had said on the drive home, he was pretty sure he knew what was going on, too. But he still asked Eugene, “What’s all this about?”
Gene turned to Nick and Victoria. “They got notices from Jordan today. He’s calling in their loans.”
“Who do you mean, ‘they’?” Jarrod wanted to know.
“Swenson, Sample, Wirth.” Gene confirmed Nick’s suspicions. “They’re inside.” The family shared a grim look and went into the house. Jarrod and Victoria put down their bags, Nick hung up his hat and they followed Eugene into the office.
Frank Sample, Sig Swenson and Abe Wirth, three of the San Joaquin Valley’s small oil producers, were waiting for them.
“Jarrod!” Swenson greeted.
“Sig, how are you? Frank, Abe.” They all came forward and shook Jarrod’s hand. Nick hung back by the door with Eugene as Victoria went up to greet their guests as well.
“And Victoria, you look as lovely as ever,” the taller Wirth complimented.
“Thank, you, Abe,” Victoria accepted graciously.
“Aren’t you two something to see?” Swenson handed some papers to. Jarrod. “These papers, he’s bluffing, right? Who does Jordan think he trying to fool?”
Nick paced over to the fireplace as Jarrod read. He didn’t see how this was going to end well for their friends and colleagues, men whose families had settled California with his own, not unless Jarrod could pull a rabbit out of his hat. If his mother and brother, CEO and President of one of California’s largest private conglomerates, couldn’t get this business to come out in their favour, there was no hope for the little guys.
“You have to pay the entirety of the loan by end of day Friday.” Jarrod folded the paper and handed it back. “Frank, yours?”
“Same.” Wirth nodded as well and Jarrod paced slowly across the room.
“I was going to ignore it,” Swenson said, “but I thought I ought to show it to you first, for a laugh.”
Victoria shook her head, mouth set in a hard line. “So that’s how they’re hitting you. By not giving you enough time to liquidate assets and raise the money.”
Sample walked over to her. “What do you mean, hitting us?”
Taking a seat in front of the large desk, Victoria’s expression was somber as she explained. “We met with the FTC. They upheld the legality of Jordan’s buyouts.”
“But it can’t be legal,” Sample protested.
“Not by any moral standards,” Jarrod agreed, “but it’s legal.”
“But only four days!” Wirth’s voice held a hint of desperation. “We can’t come up with that much cash that fast.”
Jarrod looked around at his family members. Nick shrugged, not having any idea what they could do, but a look passed between Jarrod and their mother and she nodded.
“We’re willing to lend you whatever you don’t have,” Jarrod told them, “at the same rates as your original loans. Mother and I went through the financials on our way back to Stockton and we can just cover you and ourselves with what cash we can put our hands on before Friday.”
The three men looked at each other and nodded. “That’s really good of you, Jarrod, Victoria,” Swenson said.
“I’ll have the agreements drawn up tomorrow,” Jarrod told them. “Can we meet at the offices in Stockton tomorrow? Say, three o’clock?”
The men nodded, shook hands and Jarrod went with them to see them out. Nick just huffed and went to the wet bar. He wasn’t up on the details of the current finances of Barkley Sierra Enterprises, but he suspected they’d have to use up most, if not all, of their ready cash and easily liquidated assets to come up with that amount of money.
“Drink?” he snapped as he poured himself a bourbon.
“Nicholas, calm your temper,” Victoria chided. “And yes, a vodka soda please.”
Nick raised an eyebrow at Gene. “Drink?” he asked again and Eugene nodded. Nick fixed the drinks and handed them out as Jarrod came back into the room and poured himself a scotch. Nick tossed his back and poured himself another one. “Too bad we aren’t back when our great-great-grandparents first came west. We could just grab some hired guns and shoot that sonuvabitch, solve all our problems in one fell swoop.” He smacked a fist into his hand. “Maybe we should do that, anyway. Hire ourselves some muscle and do a little intimidating.”
“Well, that’s fine, Nick, that’s just great,” Jarrod scoffed. “You go on a tear, that’s the way you’ve always done it. Well, those tactics might work in a bar fight, but they won’t work here.”
“Boys, settle down.” Victoria rose to her feet. “I understand your need for action, Nick, but that would only make things worse. We have to fight Jordan in the boardroom, not a barroom.”
Nick huffed. He finished his second bourbon, but wasn’t sure he could control his temper. “I’m going out to the stable. Cocoa Dream’s close to foaling and I need to check on her.” Nick stalked out of the office and made his way to the stable. The liver chestnut was in her loose box, head over the door and she whickered softly when Nick came over. “Hey, girl.” He rubbed her behind the ears, then grabbed a brush from the shelf and let himself into her stall. Nick started to give her a good brushing and grinned when he saw the foal move. “You’re getting close, hey, Cocoa?” The mare nudged the small of his back, an obvious sign she wanted him to get on with the grooming.
Nick continued brushing his horse. He knew Jarrod and his mother were right, but hell, why couldn’t everything be as simple as taking care of the ranch? Not easy, not by a long shot, but crops grew or didn’t depending on the weather, cattle and horse prices rose and fell, but you still knew what you had to give them so they could thrive. He did sit on Barkley Sierra’s board of directors and even had a fancy title, VP of Agriculture, but Nick was generally happy to leave the running of the company to Mother and Jarrod, just as they left the running of the ranch to him. Audra and Gene would have a seat as well when they reached twenty-five, but as she was studying to be a fashion designer in New York, Audra likely wouldn’t have much interest and who knew where Eugene was going to end up when he finished his undergraduate degree.
Nick knew the conflict with Jordan was going to have repercussions that extended beyond the Barkley Sierra offices in Stockton and he was serious in wanting a more tangible fight. Great-great-grandad Barkley had died in such a fight, back when the railroad barons were greedily trying to steal land from the small farmers who originally settled this valley, and Jordan was definitely one of their ilk. But it wasn’t the 1870s any more and much as he hated to it admit it, his mother was right that this wouldn’t be solved by violence. Nick could only hope that this time they hadn’t bitten off more than they could chew.