The smile left Percy’s face, to be replaced by an expression of hurt. “There’s no need for you to talk to me like that,” Percy said. “Just ’cause I got no money or no place to live, that don’t mean I ain’t a person.”
Williams opened the envelope without answering and, realizing that Williams was no longer paying any attention to him, Percy turned and walked away.
Williams read the telegram.
PER YOUR INQUIRY INDIAN AGENCY DOES REQUIRE BEEF STOP WILL PAY THIRTY-FIVE DOLLARS PER HEAD PAYABLE ON DELIVERY TO SORENTO STOP
Williams folded the telegram and put it away, then, smiling, began drumming his fingers on the table.
“Good news, sir?” the proprietor of the cafe asked.
“Yes, Mr. Jordan, it is very good news.”
“About the bank?”
“Uh, in a manner of speaking, I suppose you could say that it is about the bank,” Williams said. “Although I do have a life other than as president of the bank,” he added.
“Yes, sir, I’m sure that you do,” Jordan replied. “But you are a very conscientious man, Mr. Williams. All the stockholders insist that the bank has prospered because of you. The bank is very fortunate to have you. Indeed the town of Salcedo is fortunate to have you.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Jordan,” Williams said. “I appreciate that.”
“More coffee?”
“No, I’ll just finish this cup, then be on my way.”
“Very good, sir,” Jordan said. “Just call me if you need anything.”
Williams nodded, then took a swallow of his coffee and looked once more at the telegram. Jordan had asked if this news concerned the bank. It did concern a bank, just not this bank. If everything worked out right—and he saw no reason why it would not—he would soon own his own bank.
When Williams read in the paper that all the Indians had been ordered onto reservations, he realized that feeding them would become the responsibility of the U.S. government. He also realized that that would require a lot of beef, and the moment he realized that, he knew that he had found the way to pay for the bank he wanted to buy. All someone had to do in order to make a lot of money was be in position to make that beef available to the U.S. government.
Williams was not a rancher, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t come up with enough cattle to negotiate a profitable deal with the U.S. government. Last month he had bought a demand mortgage from the bank. That mortgage, for one thousand dollars, was due two weeks from today.
Twice before, Jason Adams, owner of Backtrail Ranch, had arranged an extension on his loan. No doubt he would attempt to do so again, but this time it would not be the bank he was dealing with. By buying the note, which was a perfectly legitimate business arrangement, Williams would be able to force Adams to deal directly with him.
What made the deal particularly attractive as far as Williams was concerned was that he would not have to deal with the board of directors. He could, and he would, make his own arrangements with regard to the note. And those arrangements could be quite lucrative.
Williams had Adams over a barrel. If Adams wanted to save his ranch, he was going to have to pay off the note. And the only way he could pay off the note would be by forfeiting his two thousand head of cattle. Williams chuckled as he did the math. By settling the loan, he would be paying one thousand dollars for two thousand head of cattle. That came out to fifty cents a head. He would then sell those same cows at thirty-five dollars a head. That would be a pure profit of sixty-nine thousand dollars. That was more than enough to buy the Miners Bank. Yes, sir, the arrangements would be quite lucrative indeed.
As Williams walked from the restaurant to the bank, he stopped at the barbershop for his weekly tonsorial appointment. The barber, Earl Cook, was sitting in his chair reading the newspaper when Williams walked in. Hopping up quickly, he made a point of brushing out the chair before holding his arm out in invitation.
“Good morning, Mr. Williams,” Cook said. “Here it is, nine o’clock on Tuesday morning, and you are here, punctual as usual.”
“I consider punctuality to be the hallmark of any businessman,” Williams said as he sat in the chair. “I only wish the bank customers were as punctual in the payment of their debts.”
“Indeed, indeed,” Cook said as he draped the cover over Williams. “You will want a shave, I suppose?”
“Yes,” Williams said, leaning back as Cook lowered the back of the chair.
Cook made lather, then began applying it to Williams’s chin. “Jason Adams was in here earlier this morning.”
“Adams was here? What for?”
“Why, for a shave and a haircut,” Cook replied. Cook chuckled. “Wearing a suit, he is, and with a fresh shave and a haircut, he is quite dapper-looking if I do say so.”
“Hmmph,” Williams said. “You’d think he would have better things to do with his money.”
“I expect he’ll be dropping in to see you later today,” Cook said. He began applying lather to the lower part of Williams’s face. “I expect he just wanted to make a good impression.”
“He could have saved his time and his money,” Williams replied. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to extend his loan any longer. I wish I could do something for him, I truly do. But he has already had two extensions, and I am running a business.”
“I understand,” Cook said as he drew the razor across Williams’s face. “It’s just that Jason and his wife, Millie, are such good people, pillars of the church, always first to volunteer to help someone when help is needed.”
