“I do.” “And I assume you don’t have the eighteen thousand four hundred sixty-two dollars and seventeen cents you owe the bank.” Marcus’s hands clenched at his sides. “Not yet. But if you could give me until the harvest comes in—” “We’ve been over this. The payment was due yesterday. You’re in default. Now, I’m not completely heartless,” though his tone suggested otherwise, “so I’m giving you thirty days to vacate the property. That’s more than generous, considering—”
“Considering what?” The voice came from behind Frank, and he turned to see Nathan Cole walking up the driveway from a black SUV Frank hadn’t even heard pull up. “Considering you’ve been waiting years for an excuse to kick a good man off his land. Considering you’re about to make a family homeless over eighteen thousand dollars.”
Frank’s eyes narrowed. “This is between me and Marcus, Mr. Cole. It doesn’t concern you.” “Actually, it does concern me.” Nathan climbed the porch steps, and there was something different about him today. He wasn’t dressed in the casual clothes Frank remembered from ten days ago. Today he wore slacks and a button-down shirt, expensive but understated, and carried himself with the kind of quiet authority that came from being used to getting his way.
“Because I own that debt now.” Frank blinked. “What?” Nathan pulled out his own folder and handed several documents to Frank. “Three days ago, I contacted First National’s regional office in Wichita. I made them an offer to purchase Marcus Hill’s mortgage note at a premium. They accepted. As of yesterday afternoon, Marcus’s debt is owed to me, not to your bank.”
Frank stared at the documents, his face going red. “You can’t do that.” “I can, and I did. It’s a standard financial transaction. Banks sell mortgages all the time. You’d know that if you were better at your job.” “So what? You’re going to foreclose instead? That’s even worse.” “I’m not foreclosing. I’m forgiving the debt.”
Nathan turned to Marcus, who looked like he’d been hit with a brick. “The mortgage is paid off. The land is yours, free and clear. I’ve also arranged for a contractor to repair the irrigation system and replace the damaged corn with a late-season variety that should still give you a partial harvest this year.”
Marcus couldn’t speak. He opened his mouth, closed it, tried again, and nothing came out. Frank found his voice first. “This is insane. You’re just going to hand him eighteen thousand dollars.” “I’m paying for the damages my car accident caused. The field that burned represented roughly thirty percent of his expected harvest. At market prices, that’s about twenty-two thousand dollars in lost revenue. I’m covering that loss. It’s not charity. It’s compensation for damages.”