Fiction: Jaudon – An American Family (a novel) [18]

Click image for more of the saga

Chapter 18. Rich Man/Poor Man

True to his word, Ricardo went to work getting leases for J.W. Hankins. The knowledge that he was in competition with himself did not escape him. But, by keeping this part of his word he could justify double-crossing Hankins. If to no one else, at least to himself. He decided he would give Hankins a thousand dollars worth of work and then consider them even and himself free to go his own way with a clear conscience.
    It was October, and a Northerner – a cold front – was coming in from Canada. The cold wind cut like a knife. The land was open range land and the distance between houses was long. He drove a wagon, which he sometimes slept and ate in. Once in a while the rancher or farmer would put him up in the barn and even give him a hot meal. It was at such a place that he met Sadie Kirkling, in 1890.
    He had just led his horse into a stall and fed him, and was laying his bed out on a pile of hay, when she came in with a hot bowl of stew and cornbread. Her long brown hair hung in curls from under her bonnet and cascaded over the front of her shoulders and down her back.
    The thick coat she wore couldn’t hide her figure. Her complexion was the color of milk, and her cheeks were bright red from the cold wind. To Ricardo, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and he knew instantly that she would become his wife. She stayed while he ate, and continued staying, long after he was finished. They talked late into the night, and would have talked longer if her father had not called her to the house.

    Ricardo worked his route from then on so as always to end up close to the Kirklings’ farm. He spent Christmas with the Kirkling family, and that night he asked Mr. Kirkling for Sadie’s hand in marriage. He agreed, and they planned to marry in the spring.
    The new year brought snow, trapping Ricardo for over a month outside Burkburnett, Texas, close to the Oklahoma border and south of the Kirklings’ farm. He had made it to a trading post on the Red River that had been there since Goodnight and Loving made their first cattle drive north. For a fee, the trading-post owner, who went by the one name Jelly, bedded him down in the barn and fed him. They drank some of Jelly’s corn whiskey a few nights, and Ricardo listened to the old man’s stories.
    One story was about how Jelly got his name. He had been a trapper along the Canadian border when he, like Ricardo, was caught in a snowstorm. He found an abandoned cabin with jars of jelly – nothing else, just jar after jar of jelly. Stuck there for two months, he never touched jelly again. But for the most part, he and Ricardo just tried to stay warm.
    It was mid-February before the sun came out and the snow began to melt. Ricardo left Jelly’s trading post and made two more stops, during which he picked up what he had decided would be his last oil leases for J.W. Hankins. He had 52 leases, and he thought that should fulfill their deal.
    Over the lonely nights, while waiting for the snow to melt, he had thought long and hard about why Hankins had picked him to be his partner. He came to the conclusion it was because Hankins thought he was stupid and could be used. Ricardo was fairly sure that upon Hankins’ return, he would run the bank himself and Ricardo would be kicked to the side of the road. It made no sense for Hankins to share his riches. It was time for Ricardo and J.F. Jaudon to implement their own plan.
    Ricardo filed the 52 leases at the courthouse in Houston and then mailed them to Hankins, along with a letter saying he quit and the leases were for the $1,000 Hankins had given Ricardo.

Ricardo drove his wagon through the gates of the Circle J Ranch. It had been a long time since he had been back home, which was how he had always thought of the ranch – as his home, the only one he had known.
    A ranch hand he had never met stabled his horse, and Ricardo walked with his bag to the front door of the house and knocked. A Mexican lady answered the door.
    “Buenas tardes, soy Ricardo Rodrigo. Estoy aquí para ver a J.F. Jaudon.”
    “¿Te está esperando?”
    “Sí, le escribí una carta.”
    “Entra y le diré que estás aquí.”
    She walked to the study, off the main hall. She spoke to J.F., backed out of the study, and moved along the hall, leaving the door open. J.F.’s booming voice echoed throughout the house: “Ricardo, get in here, son!”
    Ricardo went to the door and stood there a moment, smiling broadly at J.F., who remained sitting behind his desk.
    J.F. said, “Leave your bag in the hall. Rosa is making up your room and will come to get your bag. In the meantime, pour us a whiskey and tell me the news in the world of oil.”
    Ricardo poured two whiskeys and handed one to J.F. before sitting down in the chair in front of the desk. “I’ve cut my ties with Hankins, and I’m ready for the second part of our plan, the building of a bank.”
    J.F. sipped his whiskey slowly, seeming to be searching for the right words. “I tell you, Ricardo, I see no need for a bank. Hell, I have my money in the bank here in San Antonio. It’s been there for years. You come and work for me and we set up a company to run the oil business and use my bank.”
    Ricardo had been afraid J.F. might take this tack. “I know you have a hard time seeing that your money is buying something in these leases. They are just pieces of paper, and you ask yourself, why do I need a bank to manage pieces of paper?”
    J.F. knocked back the last of his whiskey and set the empty glass down in front of him. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
    “How many signed leases have your three men accumulated now?”

    J.F. fumbled through the papers on his desk until he found the right one. “This is the last report and bill that I received from the crew I hired to get the leases signed. They have so far billed me for 120 leases.”
    Ricardo was impressed by the number. It wasn’t easy to talk people into signing over anything. “The leases are only pieces of paper, as you have said, but one day we will need to drill for the oil, which is where the money is. The paper is only the key to the oil. The people who will be drilling for that oil will need capital, money to get started. With a bank, we can lend them that money and get paid the interest the loans will make. Why give all that money to your bank when we can have it?”

    J.F. wasn’t a man to walk past money on the ground. He would always stop and pick up even a penny. “How much money are we talking about?”
    The proposal that Ricardo had written out, with the amounts, was in his bag. But he had all of the figures in his head. “The bank I worked for charged six percent to dig the well here in Bexar County.”
    “What if they don’t hit oil?”
    “They still have to repay the loan. After a couple of dry holes, the drilling rig becomes ours. We lease the rig to a crew and go on with our business. The bank never loses.”
    “Why not buy the drilling rig right at the start?”
    “Because then we would also own the dry holes. With the bank, we win no matter whether there is oil or not.”

    J.F. handed Ricardo his empty glass, and as he went to refill their glasses, J.F. slammed his open hand on the desk. “Damn, Ricardo, you’re one smart little shit. I’m in. Draw up the paperwork for the $20,000 for the bank. How long before we’re in business?”
    Ricardo came back with the drinks. “I’ll have to have a safe shipped here from the East. It will have to built, so that will take some time. Then the bank building…I would say we could open by 1894.”
    J.F. took a sip of his drink. “Four years? That’s a long time.”
    “That oil has been underground for millions of years. It will wait until we finish our bank.”

Copyright © 2019 by Ed Rogers