Chapter Seven--Disaster

     Robin hadn’t expected January to be as profitable as December, and it wasn’t. Even though she had an after Christmas sale, and had different items discounted all the time, she grossed only $460 that month, which took a bite out of her cushion fund. I may have to think about letting either Rhonda or Marge go. I think two of us could handle the store now, though it would run us ragged. Gee, I’d hate to do that, and…which one? Robin sighed. She had decided that, in February, she was going to stay open all day Saturday, and close at noon on Wednesday. She didn’t like that as much, because now she wouldn’t have the day-and-a-half on the weekend, but her sales always ran better on Saturdays so she thought it might help to stay open till 5. It’s worth a try. She sighed…running a business isn’t easy….
     And it was fixing to get a lot harder because the bottom was about to fall out.

    Bank runs were peculiar things in the Old West, but not totally unheard of. About 99% of the time, they were absolutely unnecessary. The bank was sound, but just the whisper of a rumor that it was in trouble would send everybody and his dog to the teller cage demanding and barking for their money. Branch banking was illegal at the time, and there was no FDIC, taxpayer-insurance for deposits. Banks rarely had enough cash on hand to pay all the depositors, so, when it happened, bankers called in as many loans as they could to try to cover the withdrawals. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. If people just wouldn’t panic, there would be no problem. But people panic, and the thing would snowball until the bank could get back on its feet, which it nearly always did. But it might take a while. And some banks folded. And usually the town followed.
     Somehow, on Monday, February 6, the rumor got started that the Whitewater Bank was insolvent. Nobody knew how or why it started, but by noon, there was a line of people stretching two blocks long demanding their cash.
     “You give me my money right now, Wilcox,” Slim Herrmann shouted. Eric Wilcox was trying to sooth everybody. The room was full of shouting, threatening men.
     “Slim, there’s no problem here. You’ve fallen victim to a false rumor. The bank is sound, we’re not about to go under.”
     “Well, if’n ye ain’t, then ye got enough to give me my money. So hand it over.”
     Eric sighed and nodded to his teller, who counted out what Slim had in his account. “If you don’t trust me, Slim, don’t ever come to me when you need money again.”
     “Don’ worry. Never trusted banks nohow,” and Slim limped off.
     Bill Freeman was next in line. “Give me mine, too, Wilcox.”
     “Not going to do it, Bill.”
     “And why not?”
     “Because you owe me more than you have in here. If you demand the money in your account, I’ll have to foreclose on your property to give it to you—after I’ve sold it. And that may take awhile.”
     Freeman pulled out his pistol and pointed it at Wilcox. “Gimme my money, Wilcox, or I’ll drill you full of holes.”
     “All right, Bill. But you’ll be getting a foreclosure notice in the very near future so I suggest you start looking for someplace else to live.”
     “You cain’t do that, Wilcox.”
     “I most certainly can. You borrowed it, you owe it. You don’t pay it back, I get the collateral you put up. You know that. In fact, if everybody in this town is as dumb as you are and comes in and demands their money, I’m going to have to foreclose on a lot of property in order to pay what people want. I’ll start with you, Freeman…”
     But Freeman got his money. By law, the Whitewater Bank had to give it to him.
     By the end of the day, Wilcox was calling in loans. Including Robin’s. She couldn’t pay the whole thing, of course. Eric was nice enough not to shut her down.
     “This thing will blow over, Robin, but unfortunately, I need what I can get. You owe me almost $7,500. I know you don’t have it, but you do have around $2,000. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take it.”
     Robin’s heart fell into her stomach. “But, Eric, I need that money.”
     “I know, and I’m sorry, but I need it, too, and you owe me more than that. Of course, I can’t take your property as long as you keep making your payments on time, but I’m legally obligated to pay these people their money if they demand it so I’m having to call in loans and take what I can get.”
     “Are you going to be able to give it back to me once everything stabilizes?”
     Wilcox looked doubtful. “I’ll try, but I can’t give you back what I don’t have. And if these people who are withdrawing don’t come to their senses…”
     So Robin sat there, realizing she was facing an utter disaster. If I don’t have a good month, sales-wise, where am I going to get the money to pay for everything? And, of course, she had the horrifying thought—what will John Jones do if I don’t pay him $150? I’ll kill him if he hurts Aunt Martha, I swear I’ll kill him if it’s the last thing I do…
     But then it went from disaster to…what’s the next thing beyond disaster? Catastrophic? Cataclysmic? Armageddon and the end of the world? Whatever, the news Eric then gave her was easily the worst she had ever received.
     He hesitated before speaking, then said, “Robin, I…I really…” He turned away. He was in obvious distress.
     “What is it, Eric?”
     He sighed and looked at her. “Has your aunt told you that she has a note on her house?”
     The blood drained from Robin’s face and she felt faint as she thought about the implications of what he had said. “No,” she answered quietly. “I thought she bought it free and clear when she sold the ranch.”
     The bank president really looked grieved, but he shook his head. “It’s a complicated situation, but basically what happened was, Uncle Ben had a provision in his will that, if Aunt Martha sold the ranch at his death, most of the money would go into a trust fund that she could draw a certain amount on each year for the rest of her life. He wanted to make sure that she had enough every year to live on. It’s really a good thing to do so that she won’t spend too much at one time. It’s a nice sum that she gets each year and she can easily live on it, but she can’t touch the rest without going through a long legal process that frankly would take months. If she had to do that, I could, of course, loan her the money up front and she could pay me back when she got it. But in the current case, I wouldn’t have the money to loan her. Because Uncle Ben only allowed the release of so much money from the trust fund each year, she borrowed from me to buy her house. She still owes.”
     Robin was barely breathing. “How much?”
     “Almost $7,000.”
     “And she doesn’t have that much?”
     “No. Not in the bank. Her trust fund gives her $5,000 a year, which is plenty for her to live on. She pays the bank $200 a month house payment. But, I’m sorry, I’ve got to have it to pay these idiots who have panicked and are demanding their money.”
     “But…do you have to give them her money?”
     He sighed. “Technically, if she owes it to the bank, it’s not hers. And, again, I am legally obligated to give people their money when they want it.” He shook his head. “Again, like I’ll do for you, I won’t take your aunt’s home until absolutely necessary, and hopefully everything will be back to normal soon and I can give you back what I’ve had to take.” He paused a few moments. “I’m sorry, Robin, I really am. But my depositors have got me over a barrel and there’s nothing else I can do. Any cash in this bank right now, and you have—had—some, belongs to me, if you owe more than you have. Unless I foreclose on you. Which I don’t want to do. And all of that is true with your Aunt Martha, too.”
     Robin was partly stunned and partly horrified. “How long do we have before you have to foreclose?”
     “I don’t know. Never if you can make the payments. But if this thing doesn’t settle down soon—and this is only the first day so I have no idea if it will stretch out or not—then I’m going to have to start foreclosing. I don’t know who I’ll foreclose on first—hopefully, nobody—but I’ll have to look into that if things don’t get better soon.”
     “Eric, please foreclose on me before you foreclose on Aunt Martha. It would be horrible for her to lose her home. What would she do?”
     “I usually try to foreclose on businesses before I do on homes, and ranches even before businesses because land tends to be easier to sell. Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that the people in this town will wake up soon.” He shrugged. “Of course, if I foreclose on you, you’ll just give me the building back and you’ll be free and clear. But without a business, of course. And that won’t help your Aunt Martha.”
     Robin walked out of the bank in total distress. The bank was closed now, but there were still people milling around outside, demanding entrance, wanting their money. Robin was incensed.
     “Idiots,” she said, and loud enough for some of them to hear her.
     “That ain’t yore money he’s got in there, woman, that he’s fixing to lose all of,” one man said to her.
     She turned on him. “Oh, yes it is. And he’s going to have to take my money to give it to you because you haven’t got brains enough to realize that there’s nothing wrong with this bank. Some yo-yo started a rumor and you’re too stupid to realize that’s all it was.”
     “Now, ma’am, them’s pretty harsh words. The news is out that this bank is fixin’ to collapse and we better git our money a’fore’n it does.”
     “Where did that ‘news’ come from?”
     “Well…I…I…it was all over town.”
     “Are you so gullible that you believe everything you hear without checking it out first? You are about to destroy this town and run no telling how many people out of their homes and businesses because you and people like you haven’t got more sense than a retarded cow.” Robin hadn’t been this angry since the night she exploded in the recreation center over the Indian matter.
     “What makes you think you know everything about it?” another man said harshly. “You have all the answers, I suppose.”
     “No, but I do think I’m smart enough not to believe a terrible rumor without checking it out first. How do you know the bank is almost insolvent? Tell me. What evidence do you have? Give it to me. Have you checked the banks’ books? What did you see? You haven’t got the foggiest idea what you are doing. You’re just sheep being led around by the nose. Some drunken lumberjack probably said last night that the bank’s about to fold and you fall all over yourself believing it. People like you utterly disgust me because you refuse to think for yourself and can’t see past your own nose. Or maybe you don’t have a brain to think with.”
     Robin was making some of the men listening to her feel a little ashamed, but she was making some of them mad. “Miss, I think you better go on home now. Woman or not, no man is going to take insults like that.”
     Robin was still boiling. “I see. You can’t think for yourself, so you resort to violence.” She shook her head. “What pathetic excuses for human beings you men are.” And she turned and walked away.
     “I reckon I’ll go on home,” Flin Betters said. He’d been stung by Robin’s words, realizing that he had succumbed to the rumor without investigating, too. “Maybe things will be better tomorrow.”
     But Buzz Nettles was wroth. “I don’t care what that filthy whore says, I’m gonna be here in the morning at 9 AM and get my money and if Wilcox doesn’t give it to me, I’ll burn the place down.” And he got a chorus of “yeah, yeah, me, too,” but there were a number of men thoughtfully staring after Robin.
     The Whitewater Bank might have to close its doors by noon the next day. What good is a bank if it doesn’t have any money?

     Robin was still angry but cooling off as she arrived home to stable and feed Roberta. As she cared for the horse, her mind was whirring. Where are we going to get the money? I have to pay out $550 a month and brought in less than $500 in January. Aunt Martha owes $200 on the house; she brings in a little every month on her dress making, what $15-$20? And we have to have some living expenses…oh, we’re going to be almost $300 in the hole and if we can’t pay and Eric has to foreclose…together we owe the bank over $10,000…I don’t want him to take my business…She closed her eyes and fought back tears. This is awful, what are we going to do?…
     She went inside and told the news to her Aunt Martha. Her aunt lost her color and swallowed, but said, “Something good will come up, Robin. It will all work out. Your Uncle Ben and I faced hard times more than once those first few years while he was building the ranch. I had to get a job in town. I worked as a waitress, made some dresses, did what I could. The good Lord took care of us because we worked hard. I’ll try to pick up some more dress-making work and that will help, maybe do some house-cleaning, that sort of thing. I’m sure I can find some work.”
     That won’t come close to covering it, Aunt Martha. We’re talking over 300 bucks a month here… “I’ll find something, too, Aunt Martha, to help tide us over. Eric said it might not be too long. I’ll go talk to Len Kramer, see if he can use me some, or a couple other people.” But even working full-time for Len he was only going to pay me $100 a month…”I’ve got some money in the bank back east that I’ve never transferred here, so we can use that. That’s what it’s for.” That was a true statement, but more than a little disingenuous. New York was a terribly expensive place to live—even back then—so she hadn’t been able to save a whole lot. She had just over $200 left in the bank there, as she'd put some of what she'd had into her business so as not to borrow as much. “And I’ll get a nighttime job…” Yeah. Working for Madame Sophie in Miner’s Corner…
     “Well, I know you work hard at your store. Maybe your business will pick up some. And I hate for you to have to get a second job, and I don’t want you to use your savings. That wouldn’t be right. Everything will be all right. These bank things always blow over real soon…”
     They left it at that. Robin lay in bed that night thinking about it. If I gave up the shop, we’d only need an extra $200 to make her house payment…where are we going to get money like that?…She smiled wistfully…I could go rob gamblers and fat drummers like Rob did…