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Ricardo entered the Wayfare Hotel. In a number of the leather chairs spread across the lobby sat men smoking cigars and reading newspapers. Most still had their coats on, as the lobby was chilly if you weren’t sitting near the large fireplace in the wall about halfway to the registration desk. A lone woman sat in one of the chairs with a baby. Ricardo guessed she might be waiting for her husband.
To his right, on his way to the check-in desk, was the entrance to the bar. He glanced inside, hoping to spot J.F. Jaudon. He was disappointed not to see him, but he knew that he would be along sooner or later.
At the desk, Ricardo checked in and got his key. A couple of porters picked up his bag and the trunk, which had been brought in by the carriage driver and his helper. Shown to room 245, he watched the porters bring in his bags and handed them a tip.
He sat on the bed trying to order in his mind what it was he wanted to say to J.F. Jaudon. Try as he might, the scheme Mr. Hankins had sketched was larger than his mind could comprehend. He could see how the first part worked, but beyond that, he had no idea. That was why he wanted to talk with J.F.– J.F. would be able to understand it.
He washed up and headed to the bar. He was on his second whiskey when he heard a familiar voice ordering a whiskey straight up. He looked out the corner of his eye at J.F., who he was sure had noticed him. Ricardo wrote “245” in the water on the counter, threw back his shot, and left the bar.
Five minutes later a knock sounded on his door. J.F. put out his hand, “Damn good to see you, Ricardo.”
“Come in.” Ricardo looked both ways down the hall before he closed the door.
“Why all the mystery?”
“I may have fallen into a million-dollar scheme.”
“That’s a lot of money to just fall into.” J.F. looked around. “You got anything to drink up here?”
Ricardo went the dresser and poured them a drink apiece. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Do you know anything about oil?”
J.F. took the glass of whiskey. “I know you can’t grow anything on the land it touches. Or let cattle near it.”
“It’s the future, J.F.,” Ricardo said. “Trains need fuel to run. Lamps need the oil to burn. One day soon, everything will need oil. What would you say if I told you I have the key to the future—and it’s almost free.”
J.F threw back his whiskey. “How almost free is it?”
J.F. held up his glass and Ricardo refilled it. “What the hell is an oil lease?”
“It’s a contract between a landowner and whatever company we create that says we own the rights to any oil we find on his land, and if oil is found on said land, we will pay him five cents per barrel for those rights. Others are offering one cent per barrel, so once the word gets out what we’re offering, we’ll become the biggest game in the oil business.”
“Wait a minute. The owner gets nothing unless we find oil?”
“The owner gets nothing until we pump the oil out of the ground. If we don’t make money, he doesn’t make money.”
“So, all we have to do is get them to sign this lease thing and we own the oil.”
Ricardo laughed. It sounded so simple the way J.F. put it. “That’s all,” he said, “and the more leases we have, the more valuable our company becomes.”
J.F. handed Ricardo his glass to be refilled again. “If this is such a damn good, sure-fire thing, why do you need me?”
Ricardo drank down his whiskey and poured another. “It wasn’t my idea. It was started by the man I worked for at a bank in New York City – Mr. Rockwell, the bank’s owner. I was fired for sleeping with his daughter and sent back to Texas with his second-in-command, a Mr. Hankins. Hankins explained the scheme to me and let me know how he was going to take advantage of the situation, by double-crossing Rockwell. Well, we can double-cross them both.”
J.F. laughed. “For the first time since you started talking, I am becoming very interested. How do you plan to double-cross them?”
“Wait a minute. You want $20,000 to start a bank. And you want me to pay people to sign up landowners on a lease? When do I see money coming back my way?”
“It could be right away or in a few years. But your money is safe and growing in value every day. Your investment will be worth millions.”
J.F. rubbed his eyes. “Let me sleep on it. Meet for breakfast?”
Ricardo shook his head. “We can’t be seen together. I’m sure Hankins doesn’t trust me any more than I do him, and he may have someone spying on me.”
“I just don’t like the idea of putting that much money up and not seeing anything but a piece of paper.”
Ricardo sighed. “That’s what the new world will be. Paper will have more value than a herd of cattle grazing in a pasture.”
Ricardo poured them one more drink. “The men we are talking about double-crossing are some of the smartest people in the world. If they’re willing to invest their money, it’s because it’s a sure thing.”
J.F. downed his drink and stood up. “I’m in, Ricardo.” J.F. removed a business card from his pocket. “This is the lawyer I use in Houston. He’ll be our go-between. He’ll handle the details.” He put out his hand and they shook on the arrangement. J.F. closed the door behind him.
Ricardo had been sure J.F. was going to walk away from the deal. Now, the door to the future was wide open.
| Copyright © 2019 by Ed Rogers |
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