Chapter 1 "Thief of Thieves"

EDWARD

1875 BANK OFFICE

THE SCRATCHING OF A PEN took over the dead silence of the room. The curtains were drawn in the office, but a single stream of light danced along a stack of bright white papers as my hand tried not to shake. I signed my name along the solid line.

This is what it looked like when a black man played the white mans’ game better than him.

See, I had tried to get my own bank started for years. I was denied over 156 times, until... I got a grand idea. 

As I cross off my t’s and dot my I's. These white gents were red in the ears, steaming with jealousy. The creak in the floorboard eurched as they shifted their weight from one boot to another looking for a reason to stop me where I stood.

I did everything I could to keep my eyes from shifting and my hands from shaking. I had to be as cool as an ice cube.

Their arms were all crossed as they huffed with impatience. Each eyeing me, and waiting for any wrong or suspicious move.

But my determined little black ass remained stead fast, more confident than I had anticipated, more excited than I had ever been before, and scared as hell.

See, what they didn’t know was, my name wasn’t Henry LeBurn. That pompous fella was on his way here right now to pick up exactly 400 bars of gold to begin his little private white bank. I had exactly 24 hours to sign this off and get the hell outta here before these trigger happy bankers make me into Swiss cheese.

“So there letten Negros own banks now?”

“There’s this freedman’s bank incentive program the president started for ex slaves.” I’ve never been a slave in my life but he didn’t need to know that. “You mean the news hasn’t gotten out here yet? I guess that’s why they say California is just a shy behind.”

The brow beat white men glared with the classic bar mustaches, Kentucky cologne ties, and old pistols tucked into their holsters. If they could have killed me they would’ve. But like any good cowboy, I had two pistols of my own at the ready. Oh they wanted things to get messy, but I wasn’t having it. 

This is 1875, California.

My name was Edward, and I was going to Greenwood, Oklahoma to start my own bank. As I dotted all of my I’s and crossed all my T’s, I leaned back looking at the document. Twenty long years of fighting to get here. It was the second to last step to finally getting this bank up and rolling. Signing off to collect my gold reserves and take them personally to Greenwood. Now that, that was going to be a mission.

A smile tried to make its way across my face, but he heard it… I heard the gripping screams of a woman in the back of my head. Her name was Annie. And for twenty long years I had been branded with the sear of her choking screams. Even today my hands curl into a fist and my eye sparkle with seething hate.

“Edward? Edward?”

I snapped out of it, glancing to the financers looking at me in curiosity.

“Congratulations Edward.” One of them held out his hand. It was the friendliest one that betrayed me the most. But that’s Northerners for you. To them kindness is the sharpest weapon on the battlefield, it gets you closer to your enemy’s back.

“Your wagon will be ready tomorrow night.” Commented the banker. “I suggest you find security to help escort you to your bank down there in Greenwood. There are plenty of robbers all along the way…”

‘Bank’ I couldn’t believe it. Ten years ago so many of my people were slaves, I wasn’t, I was free, and now we  “I’ll be fine. Thank you though.”

With that I stepped out of the office, and exited the building into the bright sun. There were dirt roads, Stage coaches, people shuffling to and from before me in this town.

My lips curl up into a burbling smile, before I … leapt into the air shouting and celebrating this momentous accomplishment. I finally out whittled the government and their prejudices against me. But if I didn’t get out of town quickly they might discover the truth and kill me where I stand.

People stop and stare as I give a couple more hoot’s and hollars praises of joy.

My excitement can be heard from inside of the bank. Even the bankers lean to the drapes and peek out, watching this fifty something year old man dance in the street. The town around me even pauses as I exuberates the most refreshing taste of Black man joy.

That is till I was approached by a couple of white men. “Howdy Sir.”

“Name’s Dusty. I just wanted to introduce myself. Let you know that my boys and I here run the security here in these towns.”

“Get’s even better.” Says I smiled as I turned to the men, “Blessings on blessings on blessings.” I glanced past the men, there was a black barber shop across the street. The barbers watched the ordeal like ax wrestling match, each with sharpened razors, and customers caked in shaving cream.

My smile didn’t fade though. I placed my hands on my hips, and glanced behind me, remembering what the bankers had just told me. And with the smugness of stupidity I made one of the biggest mistakes in my life. “I’ll tell you what boys.” I began.

“Boys? The caulky son of a-" One of them went for his gun but Dusty stopped him.

“You’d better watch who you’re calling boys.” Dusty warned.

But feeling as good as in was that day, I stood my ground, my smile completely dropped.

“Oh, I just needed some hired hands to escort me an my gold reserves down to Greenwood. I was going to pay them bout-near five thousand each.”

Dusty and his boys’ eyes all light up like a damn Christmas Tree. I should’ve known then something was up.

“I guess you are not the boys to do it.” I said thinking I was getting over on them.

“Actually, Actually Mr.-“

“Edward.” My britches sure werr on right that day.

Dusty dusts off his hand and hold it out for shaking. “We’re the ones. We each would love to take you to your place safely.”

Edward steps up to Dusty, his eyes searching his, Dusty looks like an addict as his hand gets antsy near his pistol.

“So you’re saying, you’re the right boys for the job?”

Dusty nods, “Depends on how much you’re hauling.”

“Over a ton.” Edward says confidently.

Dusty looks over his shoulder at the boys smiling. “Yea, were the right boys for that. Tomorrow night right?”

“Right.” Says Edward as they step past him.

Edward turns the barber shop. The men on the porch look disappointed. One moves around his client and towards Edward. “You may have nickles to rub together but you sho ain’t got no sense.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ya ego got away from ya, and ya just hired one of the most racist som-a guns in town.” The barber warns… you’d be lucky to make it across the Californian boarder with those snakes…”

Edward shrugs, “Then I’ll leave early. They’ll never know.”

“How far you try’in to travel with that?”

“1433 miles. I’m headed to Greenwood. There building a black Wall Street down there. And they’re gonna need a bank.”

“You gonna ride that far with a stage coach and no one to protect you?” The barber shakes his head, “You want a death sentence… Everyone down here is about cultural loyalty. They focus on taking care of their own. Look, I got a nephew. Just came back from the war. Best pair of hands you would ever see. This young man could shoot a pea off a table from a hundred yards out. Maybe you should pay him a visit.”

“How do I know he won’t rob me?”

“Jimmy never cared for money. Still don’t. All he wants is his substances. Supply him with that, and let him bring his dog…  he’ll get you where you need to be. Boy’s so fast, it’s like you will have fifteen hired men.”

Edward nods, “Thank you,”

“You’re doing something good for us. For us all. If you need anything. Just ask one of us.”

Looking at the time in my watch, I knew the real fella could be in town soon so I needed to get this all squared away quickly, “Al, I need this fella’s location.” Said Edward.

“I can give ya that.”