The note was written in a scrawl

Chapter 9) The Forgive Card
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Churchail took the note out of his pocket again and put it on the desk. The confounded thing.
Strange how it felt warm and made him laugh because he had no idea what it meant. The writing was so scribbled. Each time he read it, it said something different.
He used the magnifier. It was still different. He started over, and it was different again.

He looked at his law degree on the wall. It didn't change. Closed one eye and looked at it, and then the other eye. His eyes were working.
He muttered, why is this so hard to read? I need to see the doctor.

Earlier, he found the note in his desk drawer under a sheaf of papers and almost threw it out until he saw his mother's name appear on the bottom. It was written in brown ink. He didn't remember seeing it before, and then realized his mother's name wasn't there at all.

He was scheduled to meet the road supervisor that afternoon who was bringing a payment from the county bridge builder.
It was a hefty amount, needed immediately to keep construction on schedule. Otherwise Churchail would have to shut it down.
The appointment was delayed. Churchail kept thinking about the note, and read it again.
The one word he could read for certain was Bank. The word Bank kept popping up each time, and each time he read that part, the note turned cold. It was unnerving. His face started to sweat and he almost threw the note away again.
That was it. He canceled the appointment with the supervisor and started thinking about the election.

He had to get Statewide Bank on his side, which meant losing support from the Upstate Boys, which was dangerous. But fighting against the bank was more immediate since his payoffs were funneled into the Abbeyville Bank ... at least it was called the Abbeyville Bank until they became Statewide Bank a few months before.

His old ally, Ricky Buehler, a timely man of good Swiss European stock, was the bank manager before the takeover. However good friend Ricky was fired over missing money, and a new bank manager, Monty Gephart was brought in to replace him.
The problem was Monty Gephart was one of those bastard northern ballcounters. He was all numbers and refused to chum up to Churchail which was beginning to chafe the commissioner's pants.
But more worrying was that ol' friend Ricky might be discussing the County Commissioner's banking habits to avoid prison himself.

Secretly behind the scenes at the highest levels, Statewide Bank wished to fulfill Mrs Churchail's dream of sending Mr Churchail up to the bighouse, except bank records were missing.
Apparently, Ricky's mismanagement and sloppy record-keeping, plus his secretary's relationship with the Churchail family, and propensity to lose documents during the bank takeover, caused a befuddled array of confusion among examiners, as intended.

Statewide needed another deposit from Churchail to have solid proof. And they knew from a local source that Mr Churchail was expected to take a payment from the bridge builder and figured he would come to the bank shortly afterward.

Instead of falling into the trap, Churchail discovered personal reform at the last moment, canceled the payoff appointment, and called Monty Ghephart for a meeting. The phone exchange was down so the operator answered and said, that's 812, I'll ring the number.
Monty Ghephart, expecting a call, gleefully agreed to the meeting, then called long-distance to his boss at the capital to report that Churchail's arrest was imminent and they should expect Lever Lanky to win the election. The bank was planning to have the state police send additional men to audit Churchail's house once the arrest was announced. Good news for all, the pig was nearly in the poke.

An hour later, Churchail entered the bank expecting the usual greetings. He waved to the teller, but she didn't look at him. That put a green feeling to his stomach.
No matter, his newly minted reform was determined to meet doom with optimism. Why exactly that thought filled his mind, he didn't know.
In the mean time, Statewide already heard from their source that Churchail didn't accept the payoff, so they faced a tough choice: Either hope he took the payoff later or lull him into confession now.

After a brief wait in the outer office, Churchail was steered into Monty Gephart's office, where he was invited to have a seat. Another man was there, and the three of them acted all cheerful, except the lack of greeting from the teller told Churchail it was a fix.
True enough since two policemen waited behind a door in the next office.

A few minutes passed and the Statewide guys hadn't made a move. Ten more minutes, and still no arrest, or display of incriminating papers, or discussion of options. Just conversation about the commissioner's family and general banking habits. But more telling, despite apparent friendlies, was the ballcounter Gephart’s face getting madder by the minute.
But dumber yet, the police in the other room touched the doorknob, causing it to rattle which alerted Churchail to the whole play, causing him to laugh out loud, and embarrassing poor Monty.
Heh heh, it had been a long time since he played the game, but he had 'dem boys by the shorties again.

The tricky part was Monty still thought there was a chance to nab him, despite quite visible signs that Churchail already knew.

Fortunately for Churchail, he was a gifted master of pulling stories out of chafed trousers, and he just fished up a 10-pounder for Gephart.
Although his transition to personal reform seemed doubtful, his mind was clear now. He had been wrong all those years, not that he was planning to pass out refunds, but he felt bad for ignoring the plight of fellow citizens.
It's amazing what the double barrel threat of prison can have.

Churchail figured real quick that Statewide needed a loyal commissioner to ease the Upstate Boys' grip on local business, and grease the wheels of progress that let the bank destroy local farmers.
Churchail was their man.
He said, you know Monty, I've been thinking about this for a while, you don't mind if I call you Monty now do you?
Monty decided to shed his lizard skin and add a foil of pleasantry, and said, oh no Mr Churchail, we have an open door here with our best customers.

The previous manager kept fresh flowers in the office which Monty replaced with grim looking filing cabinets. It was a point not lost on Churchail, who saw a way to stir the hash with these new guys.
Look, I understand the bank is unhappy about the way things are around here. We can change that. You see, there are some boys that are causing a lot of problems. They're running up the cost of doing business. You know what I mean?
Yes, Monty said. We know about that. Aware now that Churchail was willing to get his hand out of their pocket.

The other man sitting there was Statewide's Regional President, Louis Lockman, a former boxer and wizard at creating debt for the purpose of stealing ownership. He was the perfect man for commercial excavation of farm properties from distressed folks, and had no personal interest seeing Churchail in prison, especially having faced prison himself during the war years for haphazardly shooting a few extra townsfolk following a bank robbery.

Churchail used the opportunity and said, let me put it like this; we all know money is a river and you need an experienced man who can wade out there and get it flowing the right direction.
If you put the bank behind me in the election, I'll get things done with Lanky and he can go back to college and do what he does there, and we can get down to business here.
Now obviously, Churchail couldn't discuss payoffs and such, but getting the Bank to support his election would imply their willingness to ease off the investigation.

Monty looked at Lockman. They knew Lever Lanky wasn't a politician and would get plowed under by the big money, but they needed to know if Churchail was really going to double-deal the Upstate Boys?
The bank was going to play both sides anyway and Churchail knew it, but that was ok because he was the experienced bullshitter they could trust.
Churchail turned and looked at Lockman with a big smile, and said, there will be no problem taking on with you guys.

At this point, with the election just a few months away, it was improbable that he could beat Lever, but Churchail had a plan to derail the professor's slide rule.
However, there was another pressing factor. The Upstate Boys were unlikely to take the loss without dealing death to someone, but it wasn't Churchail's problem, at least immediately, because the chance of them shooting somebody else was better than him going to prison. That chunk of anti-social reasoning caused him to chuckle. Lockman looked into Churchail's head and saw the joke, and joined the laughter. The ballcounter missed it and continued steaming in the stew.

Back home, Mrs Churchail was sequestered in her house, hiding from friends and wishing to be knees to ears under Mr Lanky. She was a thin, well-proportioned lady who carried her aristocratic upbringing to win the state beauty pageant when she was in college. Which is where she met the pandering philander Mr Churchail, not that she was inexperienced herself in the desires of men that fairly accelerated as she got older. Or to put it more directly, more than several men carried memories of her handiwork.

Mr Churchail arrived home from the bank a renewed man and found his wife hiding in the second wing in an upstairs bedroom.
She was surprised to see him looking like a younger man. Almost fit.
He dropped to one knee and confessed, all these years, my only love has been for you. It's my fault. We've been apart too long and I want you back.
Really, would you fall for that?
Except Mr Churchail was serious. He didn't know it was true until he said it. She was his only true love since they met and he wanted her now more than ever.
The next 20 minutes of kissing and crying, oh you are my love kitten, that culminated in the bed with a respunked old man doing his best to regale her passion.

The next morning found the lovebirds chirping in the dining room with toast and egg omelets delivered from the kitchen by a Negro girl.
Mrs Churchail blissfully said they should go to the Lever Lanky rally tonight, oblivious to Mr Churchail's possible rage, fondly remembering Lanky's large course of mathematical dimensions, and thinking that her brash attendance, accompanied by husband, would prove the rumored affair was untrue.
Mr Churchail, loved-blinded by his stunningly beautiful wife, likewise calculated that their attendance would stamp his ticket to re-election, dreaming about the previous night when it came true twice.

That evening, Mr and Mrs Churchail, dressed out in their finest wear, did indeed go to the Lanky rally.
The event was underway and spectators overflowed at the tent entrance. Churchail's driver drove directly through the crowd, forcing them out of the way before dropping off the Commissioner and his wife at the front.
Onlookers couldn't believe their eyes as the couple entered the tent ... the crowd parting as the Churchails, arm in arm, regally strolled toward the stage.
Greetings were shouted and Mr Churchail turned and smiled at the people.

Mrs Churchail fixed her gaze on Lever Lanky who was on the stage, and forced to stop talking. Sweet peach in a bowl, that woman was hotter than a searchlight and he had no idea what to do, except return the stare.
Lever's lips went dry, and his pants twitched out in a disproportioned tent of its own.

The Churchails gracefully walked up the steps and onto the stage. She waited at the edge while the Commissioner walked to Lever with his hand stretched out in friendship.
Lever the fool, stuck out his hand and smiled.
Churchail wrapped his arm around Lever's shoulders and moved to the microphone.
Ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you, Mr Lever Lanky here is a fine, fine man. He is not a Yankee. He is one of us and a true man of the South. The crowd roared. Churchail had 'em going now. Lever was forced to step away and let Churchail take over his event.
Churchail's voice boomed out, we need to make changes in this county, and we're going to do it. More cheers.
My wife is with me tonight, and she is the finest woman in the state. We've been together 20 years and I've never been more proud of her in my life for the fine things she has done for our family and this community.
Blah blah for another half hour, like a drunk preacher talking about jumping off a roof.

When they left the stage, the crowd mobbed them.
So there he was, the trot horse of human excess, Thomas Churchail, happily hamhanding the voters at Lever Lanky's political rally, with his wife by his side.
The tide of the election was turned. And Churchail's arrival cleared Lever of being a Yankee, and solidified his reputation with womanhood in general, despite warnings from local houses of worship to avoid such deviance. Everybody won that day except the voters, who were going to lose anyway.

Churchail tucked the note away in a desk drawer forever, possibly needing further reformation en route to salvation but he was catching on. Next day he had his secretary send a potted plant, flowers and a puppy dog to Lanky, with personalized stationary saying thanks.

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