Chapter 9 - The Ledger of the Saints
The TransferThe kitchen table of the Bleek Street house was a clean white contrast to the filth of the rest of the room. Arthur Pendelton, the club’s corporate counsel who had flown in from Cheyenne on a private charter, laid out three copies of the Wyoming State Ward Transfer Affidavit.
Dale Mercer sat in a kitchen chair, his face pale as milk, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His left eye was already swelling shut from a short, illustrative left hook Hawk had delivered to ensure cooperation. His right hand was trembling so hard he could barely hold the blue ballpoint pen.
"Sign at the X, Mr. Mercer," Arthur said, his voice precise and entirely uncaring of the violence that had preceded his entry. "This documents your complete and permanent relinquishment of all foster authority over Tyler Wade. It also includes a non-disclosure agreement regarding any events that occurred in this house tonight."
"He... he owes me thirty dollars for the jacket," Dale whispered, looking up at Jaxon, who stood by the refrigerator like an executioner.
Jaxon reached into his pocket, pulled out a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills, and dropped a single note onto the table. "Keep the change, Dale. For the door."
Dale signed the papers.
As the ink dried, Jaxon turned to Hawk. "Call the state department in Cheyenne. Tell the director that the Iron Saints have just opened a residential scholarship program for at-risk youth at our ranch in the valley. Tyler Wade is our first enrollment."
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"And what about the house?" Hawk asked, looking around the greasy kitchen.
"Burn the ledger," Jaxon said, walking toward the exit. "Leave the walls."
