White Wasteland by Jeff Kirkham (best color ebook reader .txt) 📕

He hoped things might go better than he feared, and these guys might not even be aware of the sudden surge of the flu. He could douse his hands with alcohol later.

One of Jason’s men trotted to the OHV to grab an extra chair. Jason had been told to expect two county negotiators when he set up this meeting through the Mormon stake president, but three had come—which was also not a good sign. Two men was procedural. Three men meant they expected to score a big win, particularly with the cops added to the equation. They’d brought the big boss at the last minute. Three men showing up at this meeting probably meant they planned on making Jason their gravy train.

After the last tongue lashing from Jeff Kirkham, Jason needed to resolve this issue, if nothing else, to prove he could do his job as leader of the Homestead.

Jason took a deep breath. He needed a drink.

He knew only one of the three county men. He’d met the County Ombudsman at a water rights meeting many years before. The other two men introduced themselves as the County Director and the Head of County Services. It seemed like a random selection of official—probably the senior guys remaining after the other county leaders left town or died.

The County Services man took the lead. Jason had no idea why the ranking official, a county director, didn’t lead out. It seemed weird right from the start, only strengthening Jason’s conviction that this was a shakedown.

“This is a simple matter of paying your property tax. We don’t understand why you refused to pay our county representative.”

“How much is the tax?” Jason skipped the small talk, reasserting control.

The Head of County Services pulled out a single piece of paper from his shiny, black briefcase and placed it on the table. He fished a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and pretended to read the page. “One hundred and forty-five thousand, three-hundred and sixty-five dollars and seventy-two cents.”

Jason’s face went red. “That is seven times more than I’ve ever paid in property tax. My tax assessment this year was around twenty thousand dollars.”

“I’m sorry Mister Ross, but rates have gone up substantially,” the Head of County Services waved his hand and sat back in his chair. “We had low revenues and substantial losses in fourth quarter. The council voted to increase rates to match our new budget.”

Jason scratched his stubble. “There are so many problems with what you just said that I’m not sure where to start.” He started anyway, ticking off the issues on his fingers. “First, you assess taxes in the month of September and I’ve already paid. Second, the county council can’t vote to levy a new type of tax. It’s not permitted under state law. Third, you probably don’t have a quorum to vote on anything, and Fourth, you aren’t providing any services whatsoever, so you don’t have any costs.”

The more he talked, the angrier Jason became. He could barely check his rage. Being treated like an everyday sucker offended him. The magnitude of their bullshit caused a molten rage to creep from his trembling stomach up his back and into his hunching shoulders.

Who the hell do these guys think they’re talking to?

“Mister Ross. Just because we’ve had a problem with the stock market doesn’t mean this is the Old West and that there’s no government, and no law. We can’t provide services without the money to do so. If people like you pay your taxes, then we’ll provide services. You have the resources, so pay your fair share. We’re willing to discuss payment in foodstuffs if you don’t have that much cash on hand.”

Jason slapped an envelope on the table so hard that the white, plastic table jumped an inch off the ground. The County Ombudsman blanched and the County Director ran his hands through his hair, bleeding off nervous energy.

“Here is twenty-three thousand dollars cash. This is what I paid last year and I’m willing to pay it now as full settlement of any cocked-up tax bill. This is my last and final offer.”

“As I already explained,” the Head of County Services droned, “tax rates have gone up. We have a new budget that anticipates increased costs in this troubled economy.”

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Jason shouted. “I hire men for one loaf of bread per day, which is a hell of a lot less than what it used to cost to employ a county employee. Since manpower is about half of your budget, your budget should be damn-near nothing. This cash,” Jason poked the fat envelope with his index finger, “should be enough to run the entire, fucking county payroll for a year, assuming that you three aren’t planning on stealing it all for yourselves.”

A chill went through the air, as Jason’s finger stood on end, mashing the thick stack of bills. “Take this money and call it even. It’s the best deal you’re going to get.”

“But we can’t eat money,” the ombudsman sputtered.

“Ah, the truth,” Jason sat back in his chair, his free hand resting on his holstered Glock below the table. “This is an old fashion shakedown. You gentlemen came here today hoping to scam me to feed your own families. This isn’t about county services, and we all knew that from the start, didn’t we?” He glared at the Head of County Services. “This was about three, fat, lazy men trying to use their former occupation to feed their own cake-holes. Am I not right?” Jason glanced at the cop standing beside the table. The cop looked away.

“And you real men…” Jason took his finger off the bills and pointed at the three security men standing behind the bureaucrats. “You’re selling your honor for this bullshit scam?”

“Hey. Rich Asshole,” one of the cops looked directly at Ross as he spoke. “Our families need to eat too.”

“Shut up, Parker,” the Head of County Services ordered. “Don’t say another word…Cast whatever insults you want, Mister Ross, but