Camden thought another minute. “That’ll work for me. Fuel seems high, but there is a limited amount available,” he said.
“Some will pay more, or won’t pay as much, but with a set conversion rate, at least for the meantime, people have a basis to make deals,” Percy said.
“I’ll post a chart at the bank. Mean’s I’m going to need to hire a teller and a clerk back,” Camden said, looking around for his former employees. None were there. “I’ll be down at the bank in just a little while to set up the accounts.” He left the room, a determined look on his face. He’d been wondering what he’d be able to do, with his back the way it was. Percy had just probably saved him from starvation. He wouldn’t be quite as ornery to him as he’d been in the past, he vowed to himself.
“If we’re done here,” Percy said, turning back to Tom, “I need to make arrangements for some other things.”
“We’re done. Chief, can you take this down to the bank?” Tom asked the town’s Chief of Police and town barber.
“Sure, Mayor. Me and Deputy Jones will get it there safe. Come on, Mark. You’re younger. You carry, I’ll guard.” Mark Jones gathered up the tubes of coins and the filled out barter slips and the two headed for the door.
“Well, then, I’m headed back to the Gregory’s and then the bank,” Percy said, standing up. He turned to face the now milling crowd. “I’m in the market for a few things. I’ll be ready to deal when I get to the bank. Randy, I see you’re here. Could you meet me at the bank, in, say, half an hour?” Randy waved an acknowledgement and agreement.
“And if anyone sees Mark’s father, let him know I need some stuff from the hardware store.”
“He died, Mr. Jackson,” someone called to him. “Mark sold the store to Mr. Gregory for the promise of food for a year.”
Percy recognized the young man as a friend of Andy’s. “Thanks. Are you staying busy or do you need some work?”
“I could use some extra food and stuff for the family. Mom’s kind of sick. This ash and stuff has her asthma kicked in really bad. The kids could use more milk.”
“Okay,” Percy replied, “I recognize you, but I don’t know your name.
“Henry Bradshaw, Mr. Jackson. I’m Henry Bradshaw. Me and Andy’s good buddies. I’m a hard worker, just like him. I know a couple other fellows need work, too, if you need some good hands.”
“I do. Come on with me. You can help Andrew with the water tanker.” Besides Henry, several others followed Percy back to Gregory’s Grocery. People were lining up to get food. Percy was a little surprised at the number that had silver coins. Most were signing barter slips for labor.
Steven had someone helping, so took a minute to talk to Percy, when Percy asked. “Things going okay?”
“Yeah. I’ve debated how young to let them sign up for labor. I’ve kept it at sixteen. What do you think?”
“I have things that can be done by someone as young as twelve. I don’t think I’d want the responsibility for anyone younger than that. And no more than four hours for them. Sixteen for adults sixteen and over.”
“Men and women the same?”
“Yes. I’ll put the person on a job they where they can be effective, no matter what the abilities.” Something caught his eye. “Has Jorge Ramirez bought anything?” Percy asked, nodding over to a man sitting in a wheelchair, watching the proceedings.
“No, he hasn’t,” Steven replied. “I offered him a little, even though he didn’t have anything to trade. He said he was okay, just wanted to see what was going on.”
“Make sure you make an offer for labor, like for the others. He’s as good as they come with horses, even with only one leg. His hour of labor would be just as effective for me as anyone else’s.”
The rain, which had dropped to a drizzle while they were in city hall, now stopped all together. The clouds were breaking up and the sun was peeking through. People began to shed jackets.
“Steven, I was told you bought the hardware store from Mark, after his father died.”
“Yes. I felt sorry for him. The city council wants him to stay on as deputy chief, but they can’t provide enough to take care of his family. With what I’m getting from you, I can afford to feed at least him for a year for what’s left in the store.”
“You want to sell it?”
“What are you offering?” Steven asked.
“That year of food, plus something more. What would you like, in addition to the year’s food for one person?”
“People are showing up with their coin collections. It’s easier than bartering. Some hard currency would be best for me. People are already willing to take it for things. Abigail baked some bread and will only take silver for it.”
“How about a ten rolls of silver dimes? That’s five hundred dimes, thirty-six ounces of silver. I know it’s not that much.”
“That’ll do,” Steven said. “This store is going to be all I can handle, anyway. Lot more labor intensive with the bartering and all. I’d have to pay someone to help me with the hardware store. I’d rather have the silver.”
“Okay,” Percy said, handing Steven a plastic roll of dimes. “You trust me to bring in the rest next trip?”
“Of course I do,” Steven said, pocketing the roll of coins.
Percy found Randy waiting patiently at the bank for him. “Be right with you,” Percy told him, then went into the bank. People were standing around, but there didn’t seem to be much going on.
“Okay,” Camden said. “Mr. Jackson is here. We’re open for business.” Percy didn’t say anything about them waiting for him before they did anything. He just handed Brittney four coin tubes and three pads of barter slips. One pad was for a gallon of fuel on each of the slips, one was for one meal on each slip, and the third was slips for a day’s food.
Camden stood behind Brittney as she tallied up the deposit, wrote it on a deposit slip and handed it to Percy. Camden was beaming. He took the bank’s copy of the slip and turned, to hand it to Arthur Lang. “Set up a new account for Mr. Jackson. This is his initial deposit.”
Quite officially, his hands clasped behind his back, “We will deduct our one tenth of a percent from your account, Mr. Jackson, and credit the bank. And remember, all withdrawals must be made in person, or by your authorized agent.”
“I understand,” Percy said. “I’ll thumbprint any checks I write on the account, as well as sign.”
Camden looked a little startled, but quickly suppressed it. He’d only considered direct deposits and withdrawals. But what was in the bank was in the bank. There was no reason not to allow checks to be written on it.”
“Of course, Mr. Jackson,” Camden said quickly. “Just mark out the word dollars and write in the currency on which you’re paying the debt and initial it.”
Percy slid the thumbprint inkpad forward and pressed his thumb against it. “I’ll stamp my account sheet, if you like, for latter comparison purposes.”
Arthur quickly handed the paper to Camden, who laid it on the counter. Percy pressed his inked thumb on the top of the page, rather with a flourish. He picked up the counter pen and signed, then initialed beside the thumbprint.
“There you go, Mr. Dupree. I assume you will check each transaction against the print, signature, and initials, as appropriate, to verify authenticity.” Percy winked just slightly at Camden.
The tiniest of smiles lifted the corners of Camden’s lips. “Of course, sir. This bank has always verified identity and authenticity. We will continue to protect our customers’ interests, just as we always have.”
“Thanks,” Percy said and stepped away from the counter. The next person stepped up, a coin collection folder in hand. “I want to go ahead and get my silver in here so I can’t lose it,” she said.