The Secrets of Riverbottom Road

By Clark Haberman

From the moment Jack Wiley leaves his home in Loveland, Colorado, the odd feelings begin. His emotions of anger, annoyance, contempt, and sadness ebb and flow until he reaches his first stop in Kansas, where he begins to feel at home after thirty years away.
The next day, as Jack descends into the river valley south of Lohfton, Nebraska, nostalgia grips him. The latent images of friends and adversaries come into focus as he leans against his vehicle parked at the highway and Riverbottom Road intersection.
In the next four days, Jack is welcomed, buffeted, denigrated, wined, dined, and humbled. Each day builds strength and love for his family, friends and unlocking the secrets of Riverbottom Road. The last night explodes with a fury that leaves him at the mercy of the reliable, decisive friends in his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clark Haberman
• Release date: Nov 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005404574

Clark Haberman

C. G. Haberman retired in Nebraska after teaching twenty years with twenty years of professional environmental work sandwiched in between. His science-teaching experience covered secondary, community college, and four-year liberal arts institutions. His environmental work spanned three States over twenty years and involved enforcement work.

Book preview

Friday morning, after showering and donning chino slacks, a blue polo shirt, and open-toe sandals, he stood at the kitchen sink studying the backyard. At the far-left corner, the swing set he installed twenty years ago appeared as a forlorn object. The missing part of this scene was their two girls frolicking across the lawn to the swings. The breeze moved the small seats as if seeking the pert children. Those energetic girls now attend college in Colorado. Ann opted for Boulder, enrolling in pre-law. Mary wound up in Greely, working toward a degree in elementary education and music. He pondered: Should he remove the swing set and plant a flower garden or just leave it alone for the time being?

Jack Wiley’s home phone broke his contemplation about the small swales created by the tiny feet over all those years. He wiped tears from his eyes and sighed—the answering machine connected on the fifth ring. Over the sound of the running water, he could hear Miriam Mason, administrative assistant for the Public Information Office, reiterating her email message reminding Jack of the staff meeting starting at one o’clock in the Denver conservation building. Jack wiped down the counters and the island after rinsing the breakfast dishes and depositing them in the dishwasher. The kitchen answering machine flashed once every two seconds. The call seemed odd; the message came from Miriam’s cell phone, not the agency phone. The hushed words—be on guard and exercise restraint—cleared up her personal phone use.

Nearly three months earlier, Nick Miller, the PIO chief for the Bureau of Reclamation’s Denver office, abruptly resigned. Miller had been the Public Information Office chief for Reclamation—a bureau within the U. S. Department of the Interior—for twenty-five years. After his first five years supervising the information employees, Nick hired Jack Wiley to lead the agency’s development of all technical documents and most public presentations. Five years later, Jack became recognized within and outside the agency for positively impacting water and land conservation practices in the western United States.

In need of good public relations, the Bureau used Jack’s talents wisely, sending him to assist the Bureau’s Regional Offices throughout the western United States, addressing the agency’s more challenging issues. With his handsome features, deep baritone voice, and quick wit, people listened to him. His forte: boiling down complex problems into understandable words and ideas. Other natural resource agencies clamored for his assistance to address the critical need for water and land conservation in the face of extended droughts west of the Missouri River. He gave sound advice for solving problems; his approach hit the issues head-on.

Whenever and wherever he traveled, Jack always remembered Nick’s words stated over a beer in a western Colorado tavern. Jack, you’re in this position because you have a talent for public speaking and writing. Taxpayers like and trust you because you’re genuine, you speak from the heart with understandable words, and most of all, you cut through the bureaucratic bullshit.

Jack stopped reminiscing about the great times with his former boss and filled his coffee mug. The house held a pleasant, vanilla aroma from the candle Elise, his wife of 25-plus years, lit before leaving to care for her assigned home health and hospice patients. He entered the den and eased into his comfortable office chair. As he scanned the computer monitor, he remembered how Elise kidded him about being anal-retentive when she sat with him in the man cave. The icons on the computer screen were all aligned just so. Jack had grouped the images by subject, folders, and high priority files. Over the coffee mug cradled in both hands, he re-scanned each icon, like an airline pilot studying the cockpit instruments.

As he had no agenda from the Denver office for the afternoon meeting, Jack prepared documents to address whatever subjects he thought he might need. Satisfied with his work, he sent the papers to the printer beside his neatly arranged desk. Miriam’s hushed advice had hit home, and he needed to come armed for whatever.

Jack departed his Loveland, Colorado home thirty minutes earlier than usual for his 60-plus miles to Denver. Being a Friday, most traffic was flowing out of rather than into the Denver metro area. A small mid-morning rain shower had washed the yellow-stained urban haze from the air. Above the foothills to the west, snow-covered mountain peaks graced the azure blue sky. To his left, the High Plains stretched, treeless and endless, to the eastern horizon. He exited the I-25 freeway and merged onto U.S. 85 South. Not far distant, he would take an exit to merge onto the four-lane highway, U.S. Route 285 West, the final leg to the Reclamation Bureau’s Conservation Division. A minute gut twinge brought a wince as he thought about the meeting.

At precisely 12:25 pm, Jack parked his black GMC Terrain in the staff parking area’s back row. The substantial walk allowed him to enjoy the crisp air and stretch his long legs. Upon entering the building, it was difficult to miss the Bureau’s large mural depicting the historic Great Plains rivers. The woman behind the oak-colored reception desk grinned and called out, It’s been a while, Jack. Good to see your handsome, smiling face. She added in a quiet voice, Heavens knows that office could use a smiling person.

What prompted her to add the whispered sentence? Was it a warning? He had ample time to grab a coffee and sandwich. Jack hoped to find Miriam at her usual table, dining on a meal of salad and yogurt. Miriam’s cryptic cell phone message aroused his curiosity; he needed to understand what crap hit the fan since Nick’s abrupt departure.

Before entering the cafeteria, Jack stopped at the lobby kiosk to recheck the meeting room assignment and time. He strolled down the hall to his left and entered a noisy dining area. Miriam sat at her usual table, an open file folder holding her stern-faced attention. Jack grabbed a tray and slid it over the chrome bars to the greens section. After selecting a lettuce salad with an assortment of bright-colored vegetables, he sprinkled the greens with sunflower seeds and added two small ranch dressing spoons. From there, he moved to the sandwich offerings, opting for a ham and cheese sandwich on whole wheat. At the cashier counter, Jack ordered a medium coffee. While drawing the hot black liquid, he turned to study Miriam. The best description for this personable woman—classy.

Miriam glanced up at him and pointed to the empty chair. Her solemn expression suggested trouble. Most often, a smile graced the delicate features of this fifty-something female of high intellect and energy. A faint smile broke her sad look as he sauntered toward her.

The new public information officer had started work one month after Nick Miller walked out without a word to his staff. Rumor had it that Nick butted heads with the new administration. Why the testy departure? No one knew, but most guessed, there were substantial philosophical differences. Plus, Nick’s new administrator undoubtedly wanted her person in that chair. Miriam stayed on as the PIO’s administrative assistant, but for how long?

I figured you’d be early, Miriam said as Jack unloaded his tray.

He smiled. You know me: Mr. Punctual. You’re looking good, Miriam. It must be healthy eating habits and hiking. After a short pause, he asked, Why the terse cell phone message?

You know why, Jack. She placed a hand atop his arm after he sat. Her dark-brown eyes studied his tanned face. You’ve been in the system long enough to discern—

Troubles with the head shed, right?

She smiled. Good answer. Miriam waited while he ate. I’m not one to bias opinions of the newcomer.

Mm-hmm. That person being Bertram C. Harvey, the new honcho?

I want your candid observations after the meeting. She speared a radish slice from her salad. How’s the family?

Jack took a moment to finish a sandwich bite. Elise—as usual—is busy as all get out with the health care agency. Miriam sat quietly, waiting for him to finish another bite. The daughters are both in college, doing well—I hope.

You have a beautiful family, Jack. You’re lucky. She glanced down at the open file. Would you mind if I take a few minutes to finish this? It needs my attention.

Not a problem. Jack detected a slight quiver in her voice and a tremble in her hand as she reopened the file. How about I fetch more coffee? Miriam nodded. You still like the robust brew? She signaled an okay with her free hand.

Jack slowly filled the mugs, sneaking a peek at Miriam’s body language and facial expressions as she read the last page of a document in the red file folder. She closed it, blinked her eyes, and dabbed at them with a tissue.

Miriam looked up at him as he approached. Jack, she paused to place the folder in her shoulder bag hanging on the empty chair, it’s personal. Miriam held up her hand to halt any reply. You should know what the file contains. Her posture became straight-backed and staid. Fourteen months ago, I discovered—never mind how I found out—my husband was having an affair. Damn it to hell. Edward’s going to be a father again. She started to laugh. You should see your facial expression.

I don’t know what to say.

Jack, there’s nothing to say. He made his bed, and he’ll have to sleep in it. The woman, er, girl, is younger than our oldest daughter.

He leaned back and shook his head. His friend and a close work associate, so remarkably alive, being shunned. Edward, her husband, seemed perfectly matched and in love, at least that’s what he thought from casual observations at the annual office get-togethers.

Her eyes filled with tears. With raised eyebrows, and a slightly tilted head, Miriam said, as Jack leaned his forearms on the table, He followed his cock; Edward must pay the price, at 53-years of age. Miriam stopped to wipe away the tears. Don’t worry, Jack, I have a friend in Nick. He helped me by notifying some of his long-time contacts in the Interior Department that I might be leaving Reclamation. Several positions with excellent pay came open, and I applied. Nick says that at least three agencies will contact me.

This staggering event saddened Jack that Miriam was leaving her position. You’ll stay in the Denver area?

I plan to remain. Do you still like Loveland?

I do; we do. Would you like me to watch for a house?

That’s a nice offer. Please do.

Jack looked at his watch. Crap, it’s past one.

Don’t worry; our new boss is never on time. He’s the quintessential bureaucrat.

Chapter 2

A small digital board to the left of the meeting room door announced the area occupation until 3:30. Miriam stopped and turned to Jack. I have to pick up the meeting agendas and envelopes. I’ll be in before Bertram arrives. She hesitated. One caution: Don’t ever call our boss—Bert. That tends to rile him.

You’re kidding? Jack said, disbelief tinging his deep, mellow voice.

I’m not. Nick and you playfully word jousted with each other; not so with this guy. He’ll retaliate if he’s irritated. Miriam turned and quickly walked to the information office.

Upon opening the meeting room door, Jack felt like a cold washcloth slapped him in the face. The homey circular table had vanished. In its place, a large rectangular table sat front and center, backdropped by a brilliant whiteboard. Three small rectangular tables formed a U-shape in front of the desk-like monstrosity. Most disturbing was the visual assault of the nearly bare walls. The colorful conservation photographs had been removed and replaced by portraits of several people. Jack thought to himself: Who is this man named Bertram?

One large east-facing window overlooked a tree-lined boulevard. The deciduous trees, still in green leaf, masked the red and gold pigments that would soon appear in October. The avenue brought back fond memories. While walking along the street, Nick and he talked about Jack’s promising future.

Hi, Jack. He slowly turned to face Joy, who he had known for five years. Joy Jones, a small woman with an innocent face, was the best publication layout employee dealing with Reclamation information. Good to see you again. What’s it been, three months?

That’s correct. Jack shook her hand. Have you had previous meetings with Mr. Harvey?

I have. She clenched her jaws and quietly muttered, There are two fewer employees in the office. She caught Jack’s troubled expression. Changes are being implemented. Joy pointed to the chairs behind the table that faced the ostentatious table. Miriam sits to the right of Mr. Bertram. She waved her hand at the other chairs. Our new social media hire, Bart, sits next to Miriam. The new editor, Bernard, came from somewhere out west; he sits across from Miriam. The other new employee, Sheila, will handle all the visual arts for our division. She sits beside Bernard. She led Jack to their table. These are the seats we occupy. I’m seated next to Bart. Sheila, a likable person, sits to your right.

What’s your employment future with the office? Jack asked hesitantly.

Solid, I hope. Mr. Harvey talked to me about being the team leader for Burt and Sheila. I’ll report directly to Bernard.

Jack looked up at the three new employees entering the room. No smiles, no chatter. Behind them came Miriam.

Mr. Harvey will arrive in a few minutes; he’s on a call. Miriam walked around the table to Jack. Jack Wiley, meet our new editor, Bernard. Jack stood and shook the new editor’s hand. Sheila’s our digital artist. The young, brightly dressed woman smiled warmly. Bart’s social-media guru. Jack bumped the fist Bart held out.

While Miriam distributed the agendas, she said, Mr. Harvey will explain the envelope contents. She patted the 10 x 12 manila envelopes and checked the clock behind Jack. Bertram desires we stay on time with each of the items he wants to cover.

Before Jack could ask about the 2:30 - 3:30 time slot, Bertram C. Harvey entered the room precisely at 1:37.

Good afternoon, staff; let’s get started. He took off his gray suit jacket, revealing a form-fitting, crisp white shirt and a deep-red tie. After hanging the coat on the chair back, he sat, taking time to open, remove, and check his envelope contents. Bertram raised his head, eyes moving from person to person. Then: Miriam will take the meeting notes, transcribe them, and send you a copy via electronic mail. If you have problems with any of the notes, please call Miriam. He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.

Miriam rose from her chair and distributed the envelopes. Jack mumbled a thank you while taking his labeled packet. He slowly opened the clasp and found three sheets, one blank. After retrieving the two typed sheets and perusing them, his attention focused on Bertram watching over his flock.

The last item on the list document became clear when Bertram said, Staff dismissal at 2:25. Mr. Wiley will remain for a meeting with me after a short break.

The proclamation caused Jack to clear his throat and sit back, posture rigid. What the hell? No explanation for the face-to-face meeting.

On the second sheet, at least in Jack’s envelope, was the spreadsheet listing his projects with the goal, objectives, tasks, and milestone dates for each phase of every assignment. Each week Jack mailed his schedule updates to Miriam to incorporate each employee’s progress as assigned. In turn, she highlighted any lag in meeting the critical milestones and returned a highlighted copy to every person. Miriam scheduled an Internet conference call to solve time lags, putting the project back on schedule to meet the drop-dead date. If there was a significant conflict, Jack then scheduled a Skype call with the project personnel involved. They would solve the problem and determine the employees’ added workload to keep all projects on schedule. Jack’s current high-priority papers included the Upper Colorado River from the Continental Divide to Utah and the Snake River to the Columbia River.

On Jack’s last updates, there were notations. Who suggested the changes made before submission to the division director? When Jack finished scanning his papers, he looked up and noticed Miriam focusing on him. Her eyes shifted to her boss.

Bertram smiled when everyone turned their attention to him. You each have twelve minutes allotted for the briefings relative to your projects. Please time yourself, so we have two minutes for questions. Let’s start with Bernard, shift to Bart, next Joy, then Sheila, and Jack will finish.

Jack liked the timing because the meeting would last no longer than an hour. The others were familiar with the timed approach, which left Jack speculating about his not being included in previous sessions. Previously, Nick made sure Jack knew about meetings and the agendas even if he wasn’t on the list.

Bernard, the editor, began his twelve minutes. Jack jotted a few notes on the agenda sheet, most dealing with how to approach his editor. Bart sailed through social media plans and his progress. Joy noted the main layout tasks and urged the others to review the drafts she had electronically sent. Sheila skimmed over her visual arts projects, reminding them of final comment dates. Not one question came up during any of the presentations. Being left with a few extra minutes, Jack flagged some peculiarities with the server housing his trackable work. All of my current papers on the server, as you know by now, are read-only. Comments on any project, please send under separate cover. He then launched into quick summaries of his projects.

The meeting swung back to Bertram. Excellent, we have a minute or two to have questions about the meeting conduct. He looked at Miriam and said, Please leave these questions and replies off the minutes. Thank you.

Bernard piped up, Will Jack be joining us more often? I believe his presence would be beneficial since he has longevity with Reclamation?

As you all know, Bertram said, there are always adjustments when new administrators come on board. Presently, Jack works at home because of his wide range of assignments from everywhere west of the Missouri River. I’m looking forward to visiting with Jack about the Skype meetings he has with our regional offices. Joy and Miriam have worked with this procedure for several years and have no problem with the current methods of communication. He leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. Do we have any more questions? The room remained silent. Then I’ll finish by saying that Miriam is planning to move on, starting December 1. I’ll seek approval to bring on a new administrative assistant to start work mid-October, so there’s a smooth transition. The tension lasted only a moment. Miriam, we’ll miss you. I wish you the best for your new career. He turned to Jack. Mr. Wiley, please meet me in my office after the break. We need to discuss your job description; I’ve met with everyone to update and discuss changes that might become necessary over the coming months. Please meet me in fifteen minutes. He stood and walked out of the room, heels clicking on the tiled floor.

The new staff shook Jack’s hand again and hurried out. Miriam remained behind to check the room, ensuring sterility. She caught Jack before he left the room and asked: Do you have a moment?

For you, yes. Before he stepped from the room, a text arrived from Elise: Tough case today; it will go deep into the night.

Jack, I know you would like to get on your way after meeting with Mr. Harvey, but could we meet after that?

Elise just texted that she’d be home late, so I’m free for as long as you wish.

Miriam smiled and sighed relief. Do you know the coffee shop near the Route 85 intersection?

I do. It’s a great place to talk and enjoy a pastry.

Super. Her face lit up. I have a meeting with my divorce lawyer at 3:00, so plan on four o’clock.

Jack had enough time to use the restroom and purchase a coffee to go from the cafeteria. He stepped into the office at 2:45. Miriam, seated at her desk, said, Go in; he’s waiting. He noticed her pleasant little smile.

Jack, have a seat. Bertram pointed to a chair at the small rectangular table across from his desk. He waited for Jack to ease into the chair. In Bertram’s mind, Jack Wiley was an arrogant bastard, having the favor of his predecessor. Time to change the attitude and today will start the transformation. Mr. Wiley, you have glowing praise on your annual evaluations. He loosened his tie and parked on the chair opposite Jack. Enlighten me why there are no categories rated less than excellent?

Jack answered, I’ve been with the agency for nearly twenty-five years. The initial rating was not so good when I began.

Bertram cocked his right eyebrow and said, Really? Expound, please.

In one word—naivety—lack of experience and patience with bureaucratic game playing. Jack paused, waiting for a response. Bertram shifted in his chair to better focus on Jack’s personnel file lying on the tabletop. Mr. Harvey, I worked my way through the ranks, but not without a few missteps. Those stemmed from not understanding the Bureau of Reclamation’s culture. Most personnel were hydrologists and dam engineers because of the agency’s mission, i.e., water for irrigation use. Ultimately, Reclamation administrators realized that a no-change attitude would not benefit water and land management in the face of little to no dam construction. Ergo, the focus of the agency became more ecologically oriented. Being one of the few with that orientation, ilk, you might say, my status blossomed.

Bertram leaned back in his chair, placed his elbows on the armrests, and cradled his chin on the thumbs of his folded hands. A piercing stare didn’t unnerve Wiley. After a moment, he unfolded his hands, abruptly leaned forward, placing his forearms on the desk, palms flat on the desktop with his fingers splayed. Take this comment as you will; you have a cocksure manner, Mr. Wiley.

The blatant comment hit Jack like an icepick to his spine. Jack leaned forward as his mind screamed—careful. He focused on Bertram’s blue-green eyes. Experienced and hardworking best describes me. I’m comfortable in my work, which results in the ratings you reference. That should answer any questions regarding my work.

Bertram shifted the focus of his conversation. Your job description leaves you with great latitude, so wide it concerns me—

Why, Mr. Harvey? Before the final documents and presentations, you have the final say, and presentations go to our division director and communications chief in D.C. The standard operating procedure has these steps: The previous administrators assigned my tasks with specific goals and objectives. Once assigned, it was my job to develop the information to meet said goals and objectives; in other words, design and complete the tasks within an agreed-upon timeframe. My work is part of a team output: editor, layout, illustrations, etc.

Why not work here. I’m puzzled. Why this special arrangement just for you?

Jack sighed. The easiest explanation: The person in this position works with other Reclamation regional and area offices on an as-needed basis. This position requires the needed expertise to help other offices that call on us—the Denver office—to assist. When that work begins, I lay out a work schedule to complete the outputs; this alleviates overlap of administrative overview for the specific projects.

Stop, Bertram became flustered, You’re not one hundred percent under my control, er, supervision?

Control or supervision or whatever? There’s an addition that goes with my job description, defining the process for my time accounting, the lines of authority, and the agreed-on date for completing the work. Jack paused to let the message sink in, then added: This agreement took time and energy to hammer out. The addition came about through local and state collaborative negotiations. Federal agencies within the Interior and Agriculture Departments added comments, based upon their expertise when called upon.

So, you’re evaluated by all these personnel?

Yes. Miriam can walk you through the evaluation forms and procedures. Jack stopped. Let me once again note, perhaps emphasize is a better word; this is teamwork output. Joy, Dawn, Bart, and Bertrand are part and parcel of each output. We need to—must—work together. Thus, the reason for Skype and other software to conduct interagency conferences. Together we can decide when I should attend meetings in Denver.

Bertram leaned back, tilted his head to the right, and deliberated on what to say. His head came to an upright posture. Jack, to date, the communications and task timelines seem okay, but we’ll need to revisit the process before Thanksgiving. I’ve visited several administrators who have used your position under this collaborative agreement. Their words made me decide not to interfere with the process for the time being.

Thank you, Jack said. My plate is full for the upcoming fiscal year. I need to complete the Upper Colorado and Northwest Region documents.

As a favor for me, Bertram exclaimed, I want you in attendance at a meeting in Lohfton, Nebraska, to monitor the final draft plan satisfying the Colorado-Kansas-Nebraska water compact mandates for the Republican River. Since you work via digital media, I need a schedule for the two weeks that begin mid-October. The Conservation Division Director needs an up-to-date plan for her busy schedule. This will work well for all of us, right?

I’ll plan on it. My minor tasks will require some rearranging, but I’ll get it done. Any problems with that?

No. I’ll call the Area Office in McCook to inform them of your assignment. He pushed back from the desk and stood. I understand you grew up around Lohfton.

I did. How did you know? It was the first time today Jack saw a smile form on Bertram’s lips.

Let’s just say … I get around. Enjoy the trip and the fact-finding. He held out his hand. I’ll not see you until November.

Jack took the moist palm in his and nodded. Bertram closed his office door behind Jack. Miriam’s desktop was clean, and her computer shut down. Jack jotted a note: Good to see you again, looking forward to a visit before leaving the agency. He left the message in plain sight for Bertram to peruse.

As Jack ambled to his Terrain, he chuckled to himself about bureaucratic game playing. Bertram was slick; was he from a Washington, D. C. office? Miriam would know. He slid into the driver’s seat and composed a text to Elise: Wake me if you need to talk. He pocketed his cell phone, turned the