Cranberry Red: A Novel

53. Secret Meeting

What was that fellow’s name?” Brittani asked after the tall, dark, and ramrod straight visitor left the office. “It’s Chris, Chris Martin. He grew up over by Link Lake; his dad is Hoak Martin. He just got out of the army, back from Iraq, and wants to take up farming.” “Oh,” said Brittani. It was not like her to inquire about clients; usually she treated them as so many potential billable hours, possible bulletin buyers, and maybe participants in a workshop. “He didn’t mention a follow-up appointment. He say anything to you, Ben?” “Only that he didn’t think he could afford me,” Ben said. “Lot of that going around, isn’t there?” said Brittani. Ben glimpsed Brittani reaching for the Link Lake phone book while he thumbed through the mail that had just arrived. “Martin is the last name,” Ben said with a smile. Ben had never seen Brittani blush before. At home that night, Ben received a phone call. “It’s Slogum,” the voice said. “Shotgun, how the heck are you? Making it through the winter okay?” “I am,” said Shotgun. “Kinda like winter. Gives me some time to meditate , read a few books, strap on my snowshoes and appreciate the snow.” 230 Secret Meeting 53 231 Secret Meeting “Sure wish I had time for that sort of stuff.” “Say, Ben, the reason I’m callin’—and before I go on, this is totally off the record, one friend to another. Nothin’ to do with Osborne University or the outreach office.” “Okay,” Ben said, now wondering what all the mystery was about. “Well, here’s the way it is,” began Shotgun. “You know a bunch of us smaller guys in the business ain’t too taken with what Osborne’s chargin’ for your services.” “Sure wish I didn’t have to do it,” Ben said quietly. “Ain’t your fault, Ben. We all know that. We also know you gotta have a job, gotta make a livin’. All of us gotta make a livin’.” There was a brief silence on the line. Ben could hear Shotgun breathing. “Do you suppose, Ben?” Shotgun hesitated, then continued. “Do you suppose you could come out to my farm, next week, say Wednesday night?” “I expect I could do that, Shotgun. Provided we don’t have a snowstorm.” “Ben, I’d sure appreciate it. Be doin’ a bunch of us a favor.” “Who you talking about, Shotgun?” “I’m talking about the co-op. I’ve invited the board of directors to come out, too.” “Anything I should prepare for?” Ben asked. “Nope. Don’t prepare. Just come. And don’t tell nobody. You okay with that? Big thing to ask. We don’t wanna get you in trouble. Don’t want Osborne to find out.” “Deal,” said Ben. He found himself looking forward to this meeting more than just about anything he had done in the past several months. And, he had to admit to himself, he rather looked forward to slipping something past Osborne University. “Got to drive out to Slogum’s place tonight,” Ben said to Beth at the dinner table. “I should be back before eleven.” “What in the world you driving way out to Slogum’s for in February?” Beth asked. She always wanted to know Ben’s whereabouts. It was part of her nature, or perhaps a reflection of her insecurity. But on the plus side, if something ever happened to him, Beth would know where he was. “Don’t know what he wants, he didn’t say exactly—sounded important though.” Ben didn’t mention anything about the growers co-op; if he had, Beth would have asked more questions. And he didn’t mention that he should keep the meeting secret either, that would surely have triggered questions. The late February night was cold, the temperature hanging right around ten degrees, and the moon was bright. It was one of those winter nights that had a mystical feel to it, with moonlight filtering through the bare tree limbs and casting blue shadows on the snowplow-created snowbanks that lined the roads. Over the years, Ben had driven the road to Shotgun Slogum’s place more times than he could remember, and he always enjoyed the trip, no matter what season of the year. He especially enjoyed the ride in winter. There was essentially no traf...