Core Beliefs - Chapter 7 - Joe Found a Hole

Core Beliefs - Chapter 7 - Joe Found a Hole

On the morning of Wednesday, October 17th, Matt reviewed documents in his study, preparing for a visit to Inter-Mol when the phone rang.

He snatched the handset from its rest. He’d gone from letting everything go to voicemail to quickly answering the phone.

“Hello, Mr. Lehman.” It was Matt’s brother Joe.

“And hello to you, Mr. Lehman,” Matt cheerfully answered. “To what do I owe the honor of this call?”

“Remember your request that I seek a section of land with some very specific characteristics?”

“Yes?” Matt felt a tingle of anticipation and gripped the phone tighter. “Go ahead.”

“Well, the property I mentioned a couple of weeks ago seems to match your requirements, and as indicated, the owner is in a bit of a financial strait. The problem is you have a very narrow window, and if you want a shot at this, something must happen quickly."

“How fast?”

“We’ve less than a week to close.”

It suddenly dawned on Matt that he’d not made any moves to liquidate assets. He’d have to figure out how to raise cash fast. He felt stupid for a breath, berating himself, but as quickly snapped back to the situation at hand.

“Okay, Joe, tell me what you can.”

“It’s a farm in south central Kansas, about forty miles outside of Wichita. A man named Eldridge Coblentz owns it. His family has farmed the place for over a hundred and fifty years. They’re wheat farmers, and the thought of losing his home has him upset.”

Joe’s voice softened. “He really didn’t want to talk. I told him I wanted to see if we could help him, not take the land from him. He opened up and agreed to meet with us.”

Matt thought about how adept Joe was at getting people to see things his way. Even as a kid, he’d lost a ton of arguments with his little brother.

“Joe, is there a silo on the site?”

“Matt, an independent investigator, researched this. He confirms that in 1962, the government started building a Titan II site on eight acres, which is now part of Mr. Coblentz’s property. As the concrete work was wrapping up, the Pentagon went to a different type of complex. The silo and bunkers were completed, but they never installed the control room equipment, fuel storage tanks, and, most importantly, they never put a missile at that location.

“So, there was no missile. What does that matter?”

“My dear brother,” Joe chimed in, “because this site was never commissioned, it was never registered. I suggest you think back and remember when the US and Russia signed the Strategic Nuclear Reduction Treaty. Parts of the terms included that the missile sites were to be decommissioned, and the sites imploded. You know, blown up, so it collapsed on itself.”

Joe was taking unfair advantage, and Matt had to chuckle as he was lectured on American history.

“Okay, Joe,” Matt butted in, “I think you are telling me we have an intact site without the clutter and mess of the government hardware?”

“Matt, that’s what I believe, but there’s only one way to know for sure, and that’s getting out there and check it out.”

Matt didn’t hesitate. The opportunity was much too good to risk missing.

“When and where. I’ll be there,” then Matt added, “Joe, unless you think it’s unwise, I would like to bring one of my guys along.”

Joe hesitated. “Matt, he can be there, but the important thing is for you and Mr. Coblentz to reach an accord.”

“I understand; is there anything else you can tell me about Mr. Coblentz?”

“He has a wife and three kids and seems to be an honest man. In fact, paying all his taxes and taking care of his debts is a factor in why he’s in this situation.”

Matt had a deep sensation that more was at work than him needing a silo. There were times when his gut was a thousand times more intelligent than his brain. This moment was one.

“Joe, you said that you wanted to see if there was a way we could help him. What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Joe paused, “his debt at the bank is about $550,000 and some change. They are ready to foreclose next week. He has some 1600 acres of land. They farm about half of the land, mostly wheat. The rest is in pasture, wood, and a little creek. The wheat market has been down, and the region has been fighting drought for the last few years. My thought was we could offer to buy the plot where the silo was with enough acres to give you some privacy and get him enough to keep things going.”

Matt visualized Joe’s plan and saw the sense in it. It was a good plan.

“Why don’t you and your guy come here in the morning?” Joe said. “We can drive on down tomorrow evening, rent rooms in Wichita, and be at his place Friday morning.”

Once Matt was off the phone, he called Chris.

“Good morning, Sir,” Matt wondered for a second how Chris knew it was him. Then he realized Chris probably had caller ID.

“Chris, is this a good time to talk?”

“Well, I am just finishing up interviewing an applicant for the R&D position. Could I call you back in about fifteen minutes?”

“Chris, this is important. Please call back within thirty minutes.”

“Sir, I will be back with you shortly.”

They hung up, and Matt went to the kitchen to get a beer. He couldn’t remember if, in his adult life, he had opened a beer intending to drink before noon, but right now, he needed one. Sitting in the kitchen, he’d finished about a third of the can when the phone rang. It had been less than ten minutes. He rushed to the study to pick it up.

“Hello.”

“What’s up?” Chris had that worried tone going.

Matt retold Joe’s story and asked if Chris could make the trip.

“Matt, only a direct order not to go would keep me away.” The worried tone was gone. Chris sounded more like a ten-year-old on Christmas.

***

The trip to Joe’s was uneventful. They took Matt’s Buick. After picking up Joe, they grabbed lunch at a diner and were on the road with Chris driving and Matt and Joe in the back.

Joe had a briefcase full of documents, including copies of the deed for Mr. Coblentz’s property with maps and diagrams of the farm. He also had a pair of aerial photographs. One was of the entire region.

Matt marveled at how the region was largely unoccupied. It seemed there were only four or five houses, and nothing was within five miles of the silo's location except the Coblentz home.

The other photograph was a closer Google Earth isolation of the silo site. Brush and a few cedars overgrew it. He also noted it was some distance, maybe a quarter mile, off the nearest county road.

Pulling out some diagrams of a typical Titan II site, he and Joe squinted, looking hard to pick out features in the photographs that matched what the silo plans showed. After about twenty minutes, they gave up.

At a rest stop, they switched drivers, letting Joe have his turn behind the wheel while Matt and Chris tried to see anything in the photos that indicated a missile silo.

They arrived in Wichita close to 4:30 p.m. and checked into a roadside hotel. Joe called Mr. Coblentz to confirm the meeting at his home on Friday morning.

After eating, they talked over the situation, and eventually, they all turned in.

…

In the morning, as they drove to the farm, Joe said he would make the introductions, but it was up to Matt to make a deal.

Driving down the dusty gravel county road, they saw an old mailbox with the faded name E. Coblentz next to a one-lane dirt drive. Turning up the road, they followed it for about a half mile. There, a two-story wood-frame house came into view. Three gigantic elms shaded the house as it sat in the center of a square formed by an old white picket fence. Two weather-worn barns sat to the left, a larger one and a smaller shed-sized building. A fenced pasture spread out across the land to the right of the house, and directly behind the house stood a shabby stable. Behind the stable, stretching out into the Kansas horizon, were fields. Matt could see the place needed paint and repair, but otherwise, it looked like it belonged in this spot and would fit nowhere else in the world.

As they reached the front of the house, a man stepped out of the front door. Matt was sure he was a man, although he looked more like a mountain. The man didn't have to duck to get through the door, but Matt believed he filled every square inch of the opening. The man had brown hair and a beard that wasn’t too long but was full. Matt couldn’t tell much about his other features, except that he was a gargantuan man. He trudged down the steps of the large porch that ran across the front of the house and wrapped along the side facing the barns. He wore faded bib overalls, not torn or patched, and a solid white, long-sleeved dress shirt.

These aren’t his work clothes, Matt thought. He dressed up for us.

He was glad he had chosen blue jeans and tennis shoes. He also noticed that the man’s head gazed at the ground, and his massive shoulders slumped.

Joe parked the car, and they stepped out. Joe led through the gate in the fence, and Matt and Chris followed.

Joe extended his hand. “Good morning, Mr. Coblentz, I’m Joe Lehman.”

Joe made no pretense of having talked earlier or of any small talk. He simply said, “Thank you for letting us come to see you, and hopefully, we can find a way to help each other.”

At this, Mr. Coblentz raised his head, took Joe’s hand, and gave him a firm but not enthusiastic handshake.

“I want you to meet my brother, Matthew Lehman.”

Matt stepped forward and offered his hand, and Mr. Coblentz took it. The handshake did not convey strength, although Matt was sure this man could crush his hand if he wanted to.

“Good morning, sir,” Matt said. “I’m glad to meet you.”

“Would y’all like to come in the house?” Mr. Coblentz half mumbled, “My wife can fix something if you want? We got hot coffee and, in the fridge, milk and juice.”

They accepted his invitation and climbed the steps. Matt figured that Mr. Coblentz had to be at least six feet seven and over three hundred pounds.

“Marcy, we got guests,” Mr. Coblentz called out as he entered the house.

They stepped into the living room. Matt could tell the wallpaper had been there for a long time. The once bright colors had aged with the years and looked dreary. He also noted that the room was clean and tidy, decorated with all things country.

His memories darted to the old black-and-white TV he’d watched as a kid. He had seen rooms like this in the old Western movies. It made him smile.

A very tall and thin woman walked briskly into the room. Her hair was black and pulled back neatly, but it was obvious she did not use beauty shops often. She had long fingers and extended her right hand to each of them and asked them to make themselves at home. Her face showed the lines from too much sun and not enough sleep.

Compassion welled in Matt, not egotistical compassion of how much better off he was than they were, but genuine compassion. He wanted to help these people.

“Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Coblentz,” Matt said as he took her offered hand. There was a tangible connection as they looked eye to eye, Matt having to look up an inch to meet hers. He’d had this feeling before; these were good people.

She smiled and blushed, asking if they would like something to eat or drink. Joe explained they had eaten before leaving the hotel.

“If it isn’t too much trouble,” Matt asked, “I’d like a cup of coffee, black if you please.”

They all got a round of fresh brews. It was stronger than the stuff from a coffee machine or what you would get at a restaurant — a lot stronger.

After sitting silent for five minutes while Marcy and Joe made small talk, Mr. Coblentz looked at Matt. “Your brother here says you might be able to help us? I don’t know how, but I’m willin’ to listen.”

It was a chilly morning, in the 30s, and the sky was a cloudy gray, but Matt thought it might be best if he and Mr. Coblentz walked and talked.

“Mr. Coblentz, I’ve been riding in cars too much. It would be good if I could stretch my legs a little. Would it be okay if I got my coat, and maybe we could walk? I would like you to tell me about your farm.”

Mr. Coblentz smiled. “I’d like that. I think better on my feet.”

The two men left the others behind and strolled toward the fields behind the house. Matt let him lead.

“How long have you been farming here?”

“Since Great Granddaddy, who moved out west in the 1800s? He settled this piece of land right after the Civil War.”

He told how his forefathers had fought off raiders, robbers, and once Indians, but they never abandoned the home. He talked about the Dust Bowl when they almost had to give up but somehow made it through by hunting wild game and surviving as best they could. Each time they faced a trial, they had somehow made it through, until now.

When Mr. Coblentz got to this part, he was shaking. Matt could tell the man was all but broken.

“I farmed this land like my daddy and his daddy all the way back to Great Granddad, but now it’s all over. The bank is going to take this place, and I don’t think even you can stop that.”

Matt sensed the despair in the man. It seemed every step was an effort.

“I’ve worked hard all my life trying my very best to be the kind of man that would make my daddy proud, one that my son and daughters could look up to.”

He paused and heaved a breath.

“Right now, I feel like I’ve failed everyone in my family, from my elders to my children, and most of all, I’ve broken my wife’s heart. I’m helpless to where I don’t know how to go on.”

Matt listened as Mr. Coblentz poured out his pent-up misery. It felt like every time he tried to do right; it seemed to cost him. The man felt as though his very soul had been pierced.

“Mr. Lehman, I have wanted to end it all more than a few times, and when they take this place, I will.”

Matt heard, but it took a second for the utter shock of those words to sink in.

He fell silent, and they continued to shuffle across the stubble of the fields.

‘I’ve been there,’ Matt thought, ‘ready to give up and end it all. I can’t let that happen, and I won’t let it happen.’

“Mr. Coblentz, I do want to help. I know what the bank wants, and I think we can find a way for you to have your home and farm. So, let’s talk about what might be good for you and also help me.” Matt could see that Mr. Coblentz listened intently.

“Sir, there is a small part of your property that I have an interest in. It’s an area you don’t even farm back over where the tree line runs along the ravine before it turns along the county road. Do you know where I’m talking about?”

“Yeah,” Mr. Coblentz nodded, “the place where Dad said the government dug some gigantic holes and then covered them up.”

“That’s the spot,” said Matt. “You see, one of my companies makes very special equipment, and we have stumbled on something that possibly will help many people. We need a place out of sight, where we can test it before showing it to anyone. Otherwise, I’m afraid someone will try to steal it and ruin all the hard work we’ve done.”

Matt paused and looked up into Mr. Coblentz’s face. “I believe there are still underground buildings on that site, and it would be a good place for us to do this research.”

Matt paused before going on, “I would like you to listen and tell me what you think. You need over $550,000 by next week to keep the bank from taking your home. I’ve looked over the value of your land, and it’s worth more than that. Now, the way I see it, if you paid the bank, you’d still have a problem. You need more money to buy seed, fertilizer, and fuel for your tractors. I’m sure there are other supplies needed to be able to farm.” Matt tilted his head and asked, “How much do you need to get your crops planted?”

Mr. Coblentz stopped walking, turned, and stared at Matt. “It takes almost $175,000 to get the crops in the ground if you plant all the acres we got.”

“So,” Matt said, “we’re over $725,000, and you still need money to live on.”

Mr. Coblentz grimaced. “Big hole, ain’t it? Mr. Lehman, that’s a powerful lot of money, and I still don’t see an answer that lets me keep the farm. That little plot of land you’re talking about can’t be worth all of that.”

“Would you be willing to let me be partners with you?”

Mr. Coblentz glared at Matt suspiciously. “What do you mean, partners?”

“I’m thinking of an arrangement where you get to keep your house and farm your land just like always. We will both own it, but here’s the difference. I will pay off the bank. I will give you the money you need to work the farm, and if you need it for house repairs or a newer truck, we can make it happen. I will also pay you a wage to do some, let’s call it, landscaping for me.”

“In the end, you still have 50% ownership of the land with a written agreement that nothing can be sold without your permission. The exception is that I will own that little scrub area and about thirty acres around it, which you will still get to farm every inch you want.”

Matt paused before continuing. “Finally, yet importantly, if we make a profit on the crops, you get 75% after expenses, and I get 25%. If we lose money, I pick up the tab. So, Mr. Coblentz, what do you think?”

Mr. Coblentz stood stone-still like a giant tree, looking down at the strangest man he had ever met.

“Is this for real? Are you for real? Please, mister, don’t be yanking my chain because I can’t take it if you are.”

“Mr. Coblentz, you’re much too good a man and deserve better than the hand dealt you. My offer is genuine, and I can honor every word I have spoken.”

Mr. Coblentz did not hesitate; he didn’t blink or stutter; he looked at Matt. “Please call me Eldridge,” as he held out his hand.

Matt took the hand. “Please call me Matt.”

As they walked back, Eldridge told Matt that he had been praying for a miracle, and his wife had been on her knees every night, crying and begging God for help. He told Matt he was nothing less than an angel. The thought embarrassed Matt. He never liked that kind of praise. He just wanted to do what was right.

“Eldridge, please listen.” He couldn’t let it go on. “I’m a man like you; maybe I’ve been luckier, but I’m no better than you, and it’s not right to put me on a pedestal. When we started this walk, the whole idea was for us to find a way to help each other. I think we’ve done that, and I have given you my promise. Please don’t treat me special. We are partners.”

Eldridge stopped and stared for a second. “I’m grateful that God sent a man like you my way.”

The words were uncomfortable. The last thing Matt felt like was an instrument of the, well, after all, he didn’t believe in the Almighty.

“I have one other need before we leave.” Yep, he needed to change the subject. “I need your help to see if those buildings are under the scrub. Can you help me with a little bit of landscaping?”

Eldridge chuckled; happy creases sprang from the corners of his eyes and his mouth. “I got a backhoe and a frontend loader attachment that I can have hooked to my tractor in the morning.”

“That sounds great. What time should we be back?”

“I got some early morning chores and could have them wrapped by nine.”

“That’s good for me.”

***

It was a strange sight as the people in the house watched the two men approach, laughing and joking with each other. They looked as if they had always been best friends. Joe, Chris, and Mrs. Coblentz stepped out on the porch as Eldridge and Matt drew near.

“Hey, is anybody hungry?” Matt asked as they closed on the porch.

Marcy stared at her husband, a bewildered expression on her face, her eyes questioning, desperately looking for answers.

“Honey,” Eldridge said, “your prayers are answered, every one of them.”

She leaped from the porch into his arms and sobbed, continuously repeating, “Thank you, God.”

Matt enjoyed the scene. He really felt like he had not just done something good but had done what was right.

After several emotional minutes, Eldridge said to his wife, “Honey, I’ll tell you about it later, but I think we’re all hungry. Do you think something could be rustled up?”

Marcy beamed from ear to ear. “Boys, follow me to the kitchen. I’ll fix something good.”

They paraded back into the house and through the living room to the kitchen. Like the living room, it might have been pictured in a 1950s magazine. The appliances were newer, but the old maple cabinets and wallpaper dated the room.

There was an overly large table at the end nearest the door, with eight chairs. Matt realized there was no separate dining room. This room was where they had all their meals.

Marcy asked if a half hour was too long to wait, and everybody thought that would be fine. Eldridge poured fresh-brewed iced tea for them.

Matt asked Joe to get a notepad so they could go over the agreement. He wanted to get this down as quickly as possible so Joe could advise how to handle everything.

While the men sat at the table, Marcy was busy heating skillets and putting water on to boil. It didn’t take long to realize that lunch was going to be fried chicken and fixings.

Matt recounted the details of the proposal to Joe. Who made notes and added written comments as they went through the scope of the agreement. Matt got to the end and looked at Eldridge.

“Is this how you remember things?”

Eldridge stared at him and, in a flat voice, said, “No, sir, it’s not.”

The comment shocked Matt. He stammered, but Eldridge held up his huge palm and added, “Sir, this is better than what I remember.”

Marcy started softly humming a pretty tune as she worked.

“Okay, Brother,” Matt eyed Joe, “what do we need to do, and how do we do it?”

Joe ticked off items point by point, step by step. First and foremost was getting the money to the local bank. Joe suggested a simple handwritten agreement between Matt and Eldridge that would acknowledge the new ownership terms and would let Matt wire funds directly to the bank to pay the loan off.

Joe said the transfer needed to be done by Tuesday and asked Matt how he was going to make the arrangements.

Matt thought for a minute. He had plenty of money, but it was in stocks and money market funds that would take several days to turn into cash. Then it hit him. He pulled out a little black book that Matt had carried for years and thumbed through the pages until he found the name he was looking for.

He stared at Chris. “Does that cell phone work out here?”

Chris pulled it from his pocket.

“It will work better outside, but it will work.”

The two men got up from the table and walked to the front porch.

Matt pointed at the book.

“This is who I want to call.”

Chris showed him how to punch in the number and then hit transmit.

Matt mumbled, “This isn’t that complicated. Maybe I should get one.”

After a few rings, a woman answered the line. “Community Commercial Bank and Trust, how may I direct your call?”

Matt asked to be connected to Charles Pimberton. The lady asked if she might inquire as to who was calling and the nature of the call. Matt told her his name and that he needed to talk to Charles about a short-term note.

Charles was the bank officer who first set Matt up some twenty-five years ago. He was now a senior VP and almost sixty years old. He had helped Matt with each new company, including when he needed financing for expansion. All of Matt’s companies used CCB&T as their bank, and Matt was known by many of the officers and staff.

The woman said Mr. Pimberton was on another line but would finish in a couple of minutes. If Mr. Lehman would hold, she would make sure he reached him next.

Matt waited patiently.

“Good afternoon, Matthew,” Charles came on the line cheerfully. “How are you doing?”

“Charles, I’m in Kansas, standing on a porch, about to become a farmer.”

“Well, all right,” Charles replied. “If that’s what you want to be, you have every right to be a farmer.”

Matt got to the point and told Charles that he needed to have funds in his account by Monday that would let him pay off the banknote on Tuesday by wire transfer.

Charles knew Matt well enough to know that he did not make foolish decisions with money. He offered to process an unsecured note for $800,000. It would be a thirty-day loan, and at the end of thirty days, Matt could pay it off or convert it to a long-term note at his choosing. CCB&T needed to get the info for the wire transfer to the Wichita bank so they could send the funds.

Matt could come in on Monday and sign the papers. The call only took about five minutes, and they said goodbye.

Walking back in, Matt told the others the money could be wired on Tuesday directly to the bank in Wichita, but he needed all the loan information to make sure they did it right.

“Be right back,” Eldridge excused himself and disappeared out the door. Thirty seconds later, he reentered the room with a stack of papers three inches thick.

Joe reached out, took the documents, and glanced through them.

“This has everything we need.”

“Boys,” Marcy said, “clear the table so I can set out the grub.”

The room was rich with smells as they pulled the papers off the table. Marcy started setting down a platter with corn on the cob, a bowl with green beans, another with mashed potatoes, and a platter filled with fried chicken.

Eldridge got up and refilled everybody’s glasses with fresh ice and more tea.

The last thing on the table was the gravy.

There were no plates or silver. Chris jumped up and asked where the plates were, and Marcy pointed at a cabinet.

Chris opened the door and grabbed plates, and Marcy pulled a drawer open, filling her hands with silverware. Eldridge said grace, a long emotional grace, with gusto. After an equally robust Amen, everyone dug in.

The lunch was great, and Matt thought they were done when Joe said, “We will need a notary for the agreement. Mr. Coblentz, do you know one?”

“Mary Oldman,” Marcy said. “ She’s a notary. She lives about nine miles away. I could call and see if she’d come over.

They finished the meal, and Marcy started cleaning up.

Joe and Eldridge reviewed some notes, and Joe said, “We can be ready in twenty minutes.”

Marcy called Mary. She arrived just as Joe had the draft of the document, and it only took a few minutes more to sign and seal everything.

Marcy walked Mary to her car, and Matt noticed the two women fiercely hugging before Mary left.

“Mary’s my best friend,” Marcy said as she passed Matt, “and she has been praying with me every day about the farm. She is so happy and, like me, believes this is a miracle.”

“Now, about tomorrow.” Matt glanced around the room. He really needed to change the subject away from miracles and religious stuff.

The words obviously caught Chris and Joe by surprise.

“Eldridge is going to get the tractor ready to do some landscaping, and we are going to go see what’s under that scrub.”

“I’m ready.” Chris’s eyes lit. “Get me a shovel and point me to a place to dig.” Chris looked as if he had never seen the business end of a shovel.

There were a lot of laughs. It amazed Matt that change could happen in mere minutes by doing the right thing.

They headed back to Wichita for the night. Matt slept well. He felt great about everything up to this point, but there was one nagging concern to resolve in the agreement with Eldridge.