Read Heed the Thunder for Free Online Page B

a lot of things.”
    The stranger laughed again, displaying several gold teeth. He was a big well-knit man, in a sturdy brown suit such as Sherman himself wore for Sunday. His nails were gray-rimmed, and there was the odor of bay rum about him. Sherman would have been drawn to him even if he hadn’t praised the horse.
    “There’s no use us wasting each other’s time,” he said, in what he considered a handsome apology for his brusqueness. “I don’t have the money, and I can’t get it from the bank.”
    “Oh, these goddam bankers”—the stranger spat scornfully into the dust. “Look, Sherm, do you want that thresher or not? I hope you do, because I’ve come all the way from Kansas City to sell you one.”
    “But, I—”
    “Forget the money. Do you want the thresher?”
    “Well, sure,” said Sherman. “But, like I told you, I—”
    “Well, I’m here to see that you get it. You know, we people at World-Wide aren’t like a lot of companies. We know which side our bread’s buttered on. We know, by God, that the prosperity of the country depends on the farmer. We know that if the farmer ain’t taken care of, the whole damned country will go to hell. We—excuse me. Maybe you’re in a hurry to get home.”
    Sherman was in no hurry at all as long as such pleasing conversation was available, but he suddenly remembered his manners.
    “If you don’t care how you sleep or eat, Mister—er—”
    “Just Bill, Sherm.”
    “Well, if you ain’t too particular, Bill, hop in and we’ll ride out to the house. ’Spect I should be getting down the way.”
    The salesman threw his valise into the rear, stepped upon a spoke, and sat down easily at Sherman’s side. The farmer drove on across the tracks before he spoke again.
    “Now, about this thresher.…How the hell can a man buy anything without money?”
    “We take your notes, Sherm. Your plain, unsecured notes, without any other endorsers.”
    “Uh- huh ,” said Sherman. “Discount ’em at some bank, I reckon?”
    “Not at all. We handle ’em ourselves. World-Wide’s got plenty of money to help the customers who help it.”
    “Seems to me you’d want a mortgage on the machine.”
    “Oh, no; why that wouldn’t be fair, Sherm!” Simpson protested. “You need the thresher. You’re going to keep on needing it. It wouldn’t be fair to take it away from you.”
    Sherman turned this philanthropic attitude over in his mind and could find no flaw in it.
    “How soon could I get the thresher?” he inquired.
    “You got a phone?”
    “Certainly I got a phone. I was about one of the first around here to put one in.”
    “Well, sir, I’ll just call our dealer here tonight. He ought to be able to get it out to your place the first thing in the morning.”
    “Well, say,” said Sherman, “that’s all right, Bill.”
    “I’ll tell you what, Sherm: we’ll look over your stock of implements when we get out to your place. Anything else you need we’ll take care of on the same terms.…How are you fixed for disks and harrows? What about a cornplanter?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. We’ll talk it over. The thresher is the main thing.”
    “How come you haven’t got around to buying one before?”
    “I ain’t needed one,” said Sherman. “There’s a couple of hunky brothers up the Calamus that own a thresher; they’ve been doing practically all the threshing in this neck of the woods. Well, though, the last couple years they’ve been bringin’ over a lot of their friends and relatives from the old country, and now they won’t touch anyone else’s grain until they get through with their own bunch. I say to hell with ’em. I’ll buy a thresher and do my own threshing, and line up all the work from the white families in the neighborhood to boot. I’m not the only one around here that’s getting damned good and fed up with these foreigners.”
    Simpson nodded sagely.
    “Uh—what religion are you, Sherm?”
    “Methodist. All us Fargoes are