Ms. Marty walked Mr. Meng around the lumber yard, explaining to him his new job. She introduced him to Mr. Close, who oversaw the operations of both the lumber yard and the sawmill. Ms. Marty had already explained to Mr. Close the situation with Mr. Meng, and that he was to be given a chance to prove himself, that there were always duties fit for an old man as well as the young and strong who had the stamina for heavy lifting during a long workday.

Mr. Close then believed the best job for Mr. Meng was to help load wagons for lumber delivery or to help load customers who brought their own wagons to the lumberyard. Mystic was growing so fast that the need for construction lumber was causing some builders to drive to Centerville to get lumber instead of waiting for Zaputil lumber to fill the orders. This was not pleasing to Ms. Marty, so she vowed to hire more people to keep the sawmills rolling and the lumber bins full.

Mr. Close gave Mr. Meng the material lists that were completed by Ms. Marty and explained to him the job. Meng was grateful, but he couldn’t stop thinking about his hotel. Mr. Bonus had promised to tell Tycoon Strickling of his plan, and Meng looked forward to the end of the workday when he could visit Strickling and see how he felt. He only had a few more years to recover from his loss and live out his dream. Ms. Marty had taught him how to pray.

It was a long day, more physical labor than Meng had done since his youth. He knew it would take time for his body to get used to this change. When Ms. Marty had walked him through the sawmill Meng had taken particular notice of a man, a man more common to see in the larger cities than a small midwestern boomtown. He was obviously of Asian origin, somewhere in the far east, and he was doing strange stretching exercises in the sawmill yard.

“Who is this man?” Meng said.

“That is Van Meng,” Ms. Marty said. “He does these exercises every day before work. The men of the sawmill often make fun of him, but Van Meng keeps his thoughts to himself. And don’t let his size fool you. Van Meng may be small and nimble, but he can do as much as my most brawny logger.”

“Van Meng,” Meng said.

“That is correct, Mr. Meng,” Ms. Marty said. “He has the same name as you.”

* * * * *

G. Eddy invited farmers from all over the county to a town hall to discuss forming a cooperative to help all area farmers stay in touch with market changes, use of equipment, and to know who to hire for additional help with their crops.

“I want to introduce R. Sleeth,” Eddy said. “He is a farmer from Exline who owns a plow, a planter, and a cultivator, who can help anyone who doesn’t have the means to buy this equipment, nor the ability to operated it. He will work on a share of the crop after harvest so there is nothing to pay up front. I have known Mr. Sleeth for many years and find him to be honest, dependable and hardworking.”

“What is his percentage?” A man in the crowd shouted out.

“I suggest you get with Mr. Sleeth after this meeting to discuss details,” Eddy said. “Every farm is different.”

Another man stood up in the crowd. “My name is Morgan, and this man next to me here is my brother. Many of you already know us, and we also have a farm and equipment and can make ourselves available for an arrangement like Mr. Sleeth. We are not intending to take business away from Mr. Sleeth. I’m sure he would agree that after these new leases from Baron Anderson there is more work than any one man could do.”

Mr. Sleeth stood up. “I do agree. And I can also say that I’ve known the Morgan Brothers for many years and they are also very trustworthy and honorable men.”

Tycoon Harringtion also stood up and informed the crowd that he built a shelter near the tracks and installed four corn shellers under the shelter. “Once you sell your corn to the buyer, the corn will be stored in cribs next to the shelter, and the buyers will have it shelled for a new system of hauling shelled corn on my freight cars. We’ll be able to haul more bushels of corn per car and speeding up the process of getting it to the markets.”

At the close of the meeting several men got together and made deals with Sleeth and the Morgan Brothers. Earlier that day the Morgan Brother’s bought the only planter that Guffey Implements had left and had purchased a second plow from an elderly man who had loaned it to them in the past to plow his own field. They arranged to plow and plant his field at no cost in trade for ownership of the plow. The men were ready to go to work.

* * * * *

The headline on the front page of the ‘Daily Iowegian’ read: GROVER CLEVELAND LEADS THE RACE FOR PRESIDENT.

Iowa being a northern state, a majority of citizens did not support democratic candidates, and this did not settle well with the townsfolk of Appanoose County. For those that already opposed Baron Anderson’s land leases and presumed connection with the presidential candidate, the corruption protests ignited once more. Baron Anderson was not afraid of opposition, and he had confidence in his plan. The only anxiety came from his inability to predict the happenings in Washington, and the lengths the Republicans were willing to go to, to ensure Cleveland’s plans didn’t materialize. Even if it meant causing a financial crisis in America.

For this reason, Baron Anderson went to see Banker Stufflebeem, his only Washington connection and the one who understood the current political situation better than anyone.

When Baron Anderson arrived, Stufflebeem was reading the article in the ‘Daily Iowegian.’

Stufflebeem offered him a bourbon and Baron Anderson obliged.

“Anything to help take the edge off,” the Baron said.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Stufflebeem said. “Blaine is divisive even in his own party. If he gets the nomination, and probably will, then it’s pure chaos for Republicans. They pay more attention to their own spats and not enough attention to Cleveland to even know what he’s planning. If Cleveland wins, this will be the reason, and the markets will be fine. Plus, the south will be jubilant and when southerners are happy they eat and spend money.”

“I hope you’re right,” the Baron said. “If only the protestors out there knew that me and Harrington guaranteed the loans. If the markets fail, we pay off the loans. Neither Harrington nor I will miss the money, and we start over.”

“Yes,” Stufflebeem said, “And you might remember, that’s why me and Shahan went along with it. There’s really no risk to anyone. Other than a little personal pride if the markets go awry, drought or a windstorm, grasshopper plague or a swine disease. It those things happen we just blame Mother Nature.”

“I’ve been doing this too long to know that God or Mother Nature are never to blame. Folks always blame the rich guy.”

* * * * *

In the next episode of Centerville 1884: Emotions calm as the spring winds down and summer begins, corn popping up through the ground, hogs gaining weight, and the folks of Appanoose County have all but forgotten about politics, except for win the party nominations are announced. Meng meets with Tycoon Strickling and the Tycoon makes him a deal. Guffey Implements receives a shipment of cultivators to gear up for the summer months.