“Well, it seems to us that your sponsors not only acted hastily but disloyally. We’re new to town and of course don’t take any stands on local politics—we’re here to serve all the people—but who’s to say? Maybe you’re right. Maybe Sheriff Neth does deserve to be shot.” He leaned forward. “We’re not advocating violence, you understand. But this political correctness has gone too far. It’s even affecting your livelihood. We at the bank are firm supporters of free speech. There’s no political correctness here, just good old-fashioned honesty.” He smiled knowingly. “We’re willing to call a spade a spade.”

Did that mean what he thought it meant? Chet looked into the blue-gray eyes of the banker and saw what he hoped to see.

“Words never hurt anyone, and if Sheriff Neth ends up getting his head blown off, it’s not because you suggested it, it’s because someone did it. And no matter what your lily-livered advertisers might think, that’s not your fault.”

“So…”

The banker leaned back in his chair. “So we’re willing to support you. Papers need to be drawn up, and I’ll talk to one of our loan advisers about that, but I can safely say that we will be offering you the business loan or personal loan that will most suit your needs. And because of the unique circumstances of your situation, we’re prepared to provide the loan interest-free, suspending the first monthly payment for a year.”

Relief flooded through him. “Thank you,” he said gratefully. “Seriously, I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

The older man held up a hand. “In lieu of interest, however, we will be requesting commercial air time on your show—”

“No problem!”

“—at a time or times to be determined. Basically, we will just have our spokesperson record a promotional message informing your listeners of the services offered by The First People’s Bank.”

“Sure.” Chet had never felt more appreciative in his life. “Whatever you want.”

The other man stood, offering a hand across the desk. Still holding his hat, Chet extended his other hand and shook.

“Let’s get this done, then. I’ll introduce you to Ms. Coppick, our newest loan adviser, and she’ll get you started.”

The two of them walked out of the office and over to one of the desks opposite the teller windows.

He did not even know the banker’s name, Chet realized. The man had not told him, and he had not asked.

Did it matter?

He put his MAGA hat back on.

No, he thought. It didn’t.

Nine

NINE

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