Eagles Legacy: The Killing

Chapter Ten

Kansas City Cattle Exchange

The building was divided into two parts. On one side, there was an area that everyone referred to as “the bull pen.” It was so called because there were six desks crowded rather closely together. Behind the desks toiled the inventory clerks, men who came to work and buried their heads in endless rows of numbers. The irony was that every day they added, recorded, transferred, and were responsible for tens of thousands of dollars, and they did all that for the sum of twenty-five dollars per week.

There was a long counter that separated the bull pen from the much larger and better-decorated director’s room where Jay Montgomery had his desk. On the back wall was a large blackboard upon which figures were written, the figures representing the latest quotes from the cattle market. In the corner was a ticker-tape machine, and at the moment one of the clerks was standing by it, holding the tape in his two hands, reading it as it came from the machine. As soon as he got all the numbers, he would transfer them to the blackboard.

On the opposite side of the counter from the ticker-tape machine, one of the toiling clerks, Hodge Denman, watched his fellow employee examine the tape until he started transferring the numbers to the blackboard. Then Denman took off his wire-rimmed glasses, removing them very carefully from one ear at a time. Blowing his breath on the lenses, he polished them with his handkerchief, then hooked them back onto his ears, one at a time, just as he had taken them off. With his glasses cleaned, he reread the paragraph that was causing him such distress.

We regret to tell you, Mr. Denman, that as the expected repayment of your loan did not occur as agreed upon, we are being forced to take further action. If the loan is not satisfied within sixty days, we will have no alternative but to foreclose upon the property you used for collateral.

The loan was for four thousand dollars, and it was secured by his father-in-law’s property. Neither his wife nor her father realized that Denman was in such debt. Denman was afraid to tell his father-in-law of the crushing debt, because Denman knew that the man had little sympathy for anyone who could not manage his own affairs.

What his father-in-law also did not realize was that his own property was in jeopardy. That was because Hodge Denman had forged his father-in-law’s name in order to use his land as the collateral backing his loan. Denman was in debt because he had a gambling habit, a habit that had taken every cent he had, and now threatened to break not only him, but his father-in-law as well.

Leaning back in his chair, Denman pinched the bridge of his nose. How could he have let himself get into such a mess? What could he possibly do to extricate himself?

“Mr. Denman?”

Looking up, Denman saw his boss, Jay Montgomery, coming toward his desk. Denman stood.

“Yes, Mr. Montgomery?”

“We just got a telegram from Mr. Conn in Cheyenne. There is a Mr. Duff MacCallister, from Wyoming, who has requested to buy a herd of cattle. Specifically, he wants five hundred Black Angus. I want you to handle all the details. Gather the cattle, arrange to have enough cars in the lot to move the cattle, and of course, handle the transaction. He has been quoted a price of thirteen thousand, seven hundred and fifty dollars, plus a fifteen percent handling charge.”

“I’ll get right on it, Mr. Montgomery.”

Denman computed the amount of money MacCallister would be charged, counting the cost of the cattle and the handling charges. The total came to fifteen thousand, eight hundred twelve dollars and fifty cents.

Denman put the pencil down and drummed his fingers as he looked at the figure. That was a lot of money. It didn’t seem fair that some people could raise that much money when he was so desperate.

He drafted the letter.

Dear Mr. MacCallister:

This is to inform you that we have received your order for five hundred head of prime Black Angus cattle. We will undertake to collect and process the cattle, then load them on the cars for shipment to you in Cheyenne. Before shipment can be completed, however, we must have in our hands a bank draft for the fifteen thousand, eight hundred twelve dollars and fifty cents. This sum will cover all costs attendant to this transaction, to include the price of the cattle and our handling fees.

Thank you for choosing to do business with us.

Sincerely,

Jay Montgomery, President,

Kansas City Cattle Exchange

Denman was about to put the letter in the envelope when he suddenly got an idea as to how he might extricate himself from his problems.

Putting the letter in his pocket, he walked outside. Because the Cattle Exchange consisted of several acres of feeder lots, the odor was so strong that every morning as he came to work, he could smell it for half a mile before he reached it.

“How does one ever get used to the stink?” he asked one of the cowboys whose job it was to move the cattle from pen to pen.

“It’s all a part of the cattle business.” The cowboy laughed out loud. “I heard someone ask Mr. Montgomery about the smell once, and you know what he said?”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘It might smell like cow shit to you, but to me it smells like money.’” The cowboy laughed out loud and slapped his knee. “Yes sir, it smells like money, he says.”

The cowboy was named Rob Howard, and he was who Denman was looking for now. He walked down a narrow path that ran between two very large feeder pens. Here the smell was even more intense, with the smell of the animals themselves adding to the odor of the feces.

He saw Howard standing on the top rung of one of the feeder pens, watching as others, who were mounted, drove several cows through the open gate of the pen.

“Mr. Howard!” Denman called.

“Yeah?”

“A word with you, please?”

“Walt!” Howard shouted. “Get up here and make sure the cows don’t hurt themselves comin’ into the pen!”

Walt rode over to the fence, then climbed up on it as Howard jumped down.

“What do you need?”

“I’m going to need five hundred Black Angus at a ratio of one bull to twenty-five heifers. That will be twenty bulls and four hundred eighty heifers.”

“I can do cipherin’, Denman,” Howard said.

“Of course you can,” Denman said quickly. I did not mean to cast any dispersions on your mathematical acumen.”

“My what?”

“Your ability to do math.”

“Five hundred Black Angus?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a pretty big order,” Howard said.

“Yes, it is. Evidently some rich man from Wyoming is wanting to introduce Black Angus out there.”

“All right, I’ll get ’em put together for you.”

Howard turned to go back to the holding pen.

“Mr. Howard?” Denman called after him.

Howard turned. “Is there somethin’ else?”

“Yes, but, this is not company business. This is personal.”

“What do you want?”

“That man you said you met a few days ago. I would like to meet him.”

“I meet a lot of men,” Howard said. “Which one are you talking about?”

“The one you said that was a, uh, I believe you put it, dangerous man. Kingman, or something like that.”

Howard looked at Denman with a surprised expression on his face, then he laughed. “Do you mean Kingsley? You want to meet Crack Kingsley?”

“Yes.”

“Why in hell would you want to meet him? Didn’t you hear what I said about him? He was a border raider during the war. He’s probably killed more men than you have mosquitoes.”

“I have a proposal for him.”

“No, you don’t,” Howard said.

“Yes, I do.”

“Listen to me, Denman. Kingsley is not the kind of man I would want to have anything to do with. And if I don’t want to be around him, you for sure don’t.”

“I would like to meet him,” Denman repeated.

“You said you have a proposal for him. What kind of proposal?”

“I’m really not at liberty to say, right now,” Denman said.

“It’s somethin’ illegal, ain’t it? I mean, if you are wantin’ to do business with Crack Kingsley, it has to be illegal.”

“There’s twenty dollars in it for you if you set up the meeting, and don’t ask any more questions,” Denman said.

“I tell you what, Denman, twenty dollars ain’t enough money for me to mess with the likes of someone like Crack Kingsley. You go set up your own meeting.”

Turning, Howard again started back to the feeding pen.

“Would you do it for one hundred dollars?” Denman asked.

Howard stopped in his tracks, then slowly and deliberately turned back toward Denman. “Damn, you are serious about this, aren’t you?”

“I am very serious,” Denman replied.

“One hundred dollars?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you want to meet with Kingsley?”

“Part of the one hundred dollars is to keep you from asking me any more questions.”

Howard stroked his chin as he stared at Denman.

“Where is the money?”

“You set up the meeting first. If he shows up, I’ll give you one hundred dollars.”

“You know where the Bucket of Blood Saloon is?”

“Heavens, you aren’t going to tell me that’s where you would have us meet, are you?”

“You want to meet him or not?”

“I do.”

“Kingsley’s pretty particular about where he goes. I reckon he’s prob’ly made a lot of enemies in his life, so he goes where he feels comfortable. And the Bucket of Blood is that place.”

“All right, if I must go to that dreadful place, I will. You just set up the meeting.”

Howard cocked his head at Denman and stared at him for a long moment, then he chuckled quietly as he shook his head.

“I’d damn near set it up for free, just to know what this is all about,” he said.

“Thank you. Let me know when you have the meeting set up.”

Returning to his desk, Denman rolled two pieces of paper, separated by carbon paper, into the Remington typing machine. Using two fingers, he began to type a new letter.

Dear Mr. MacCallister:

This is to inform you that we have received your request for five hundred Black Angus cattle. We are now in the process of making the arrangements for you. However, it will be necessary for you to come, in person, to take delivery of your cattle. The amount of money due upon your receipt of the herd is fifteen thousand, eight hundred twelve dollars and fifty cents. This sum will cover all costs attendant to this transaction, to include the price of the cattle and our handling fees.

Too often, bank drafts drawn upon small anks in remote areas of the country have been non-processed due to the failure of the banks in question. Therefore, it is the policy of the Kansas City Cattle Exchange that all transactions must be conducted in cash, so we ask you to bring the money with you. We apologize in advance for any difficulty this may cause the buyer.

Please advise us by telegraph when you expect to arrive in Kansas City. Thank you for choosing to do business with us.

Sincerely,

Jay Montgomery

President, Kansas City Cattle Exchange

Denman folded the letter carefully, put it in the envelope, sealed it shut, addressed it, then applied the postage stamp. He had just finished when Jay Montgomery came up to the counter that separated the two areas.

“Denman, did you take care of that Black Angus order?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Montgomery,” Denman said. “Mr. Howard is getting the herd assembled for me, four hundred eighty heifers to twenty seed bulls.”

“That’s an exceptionally large number of cows for a single order,” Montgomery said. “But our percentage will make it well worthwhile. Good job.”

“Thank you, sir,” Denman said. He held up the letter. “If you don’t mind, I’ll carry this letter to the post myself.”

“No, I don’t mind at all. By all means, do so.”

After he had delivered the letter, Denman stopped by the bank to talk to Rod Norton, the bank manager.

“This is serious business, Mr. Denman. Very serious business,” Norton said, sternly.

“Believe me, sir, I am very aware of that,” Denman said. “But I have come to tell you that I believe I have the situation under control. If you will but allow me thirty more days, I’m sure I will be able to pay off the loan, in full, plus any additional interest that will accrue in the next thirty days.”

“Tell me, Mr. Denman, and I ask this not from idle curiosity, but from my position as president of the bank: what makes you think you have the situation under control?”

“I have just discovered that I have access to a rather substantial amount of funds,” Denman said. “More than enough to satisfy all my debts. All I ask is for a little more time.”

Norton leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin for a moment, then, sighing, came forward and picked up a pen. He wrote a few lines on a piece of paper, then handed the paper to Denman.

“Show this to Mr. Potter, the loan manager,” he said.

Effective from this date, Hodge Denman is granted a thirty day extension on his loan.