The H&R Cattle Company by Doug Bowman

Place, over on the Colorado.” He described the ranch in detail, then told Rollins of his conversation with John Peabody.
    â€œPeabody says old man Franklin only owed a thousand dollars on it?” Bret asked.
    â€œSaid he owed less than a thousand,” Zack said. “McGrath didn’t say so, but I suppose his bank holds the mortgage. He did say that he was authorized to sell the ranch. Maybe he’s trying to overcharge me because he figured I wouldn’t know the difference.”
    â€œOf course he is, Zack. He’s the typical banker. He upped the price as soon as he found out you’re new in Texas and that you have some money. Tell him to kiss your ass and keep looking around till you find something reasonable.”
    Zack took a sip of Bret’s whiskey, then placed the bottle back on the table. “I want that ranch, Bret. I’d just like to buy it at a little better price so I’ll have some money left over to fix it up and stock it. On top of that, I’d have to buy furniture for the house, a team and wagon, harness, tools—”
    â€œAnd a hundred other things,” Rollins interrupted. He took a drink from his bottle. “You want me to go over and explain to McGrath how the goat eats the hay?”
    â€œI was coming to that, Bret. You’re awful good at putting a new light on things, and I never was much good at dickering. Even old man Davis, back home, told me I was a lousy horse trader.”
    Rollins put the cork back in the bottle and chuckled loudly. “The old man told you right, Zack. Arguing the price of merchandise is not one of your strong points.” He began to put on his boots. “I’ll talk to McGrath later this afternoon or in the morning, see if I can shake him loose from that nineteen-hundred-dollar price tag.”
    Rollins was in the banker’s office the next morning at ten and had been talking nonstop for several minutes. “Every dollar Zack Hunter has in the world is in your bank, Mister McGrath,” he was saying, pacing back and forth across the room, “so you know how much it is. And even if you cut the price of the Franklin Place in half, it’ll take everything Zack has to put it in good shape and stock it. I also happen to know that Ned Franklin owed less than a thousand dollars on the ranch, and I believe you should let Mister Hunter pay off the mortgage and take charge.
    â€œYou see, Mister McGrath, Zack’s been poor all his life; he’s never had access to large sums of money, the way I do.” The banker leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, giving Rollins his undivided attention. “I’d never be satisfied with anything as small as the Franklin Place, myself,” Bret continued. “As soon as the rest of my money gets here, I intend to buy up property in all directions, build the biggest spread this area’s ever seen. Might even build another good hotel; give the Hartley a little competition.”
    The banker was all ears. “You … you say you’re expecting to receive more funds, Mister Rollins?”
    Bret nodded. “As soon as the family business is sold. A Northern firm has agreed to buy it, and I suppose the deal might be going through even as we speak. My brother has the authority to close out the sale, then the two of us will split the proceeds. Since Pa and Ma died, neither of us boys has any desire to continue with the business.”
    The banker drummed his fingers against his desk, appearing to be in deep thought. “What kind of business are we talking about, Mister Rollins?”
    â€œTextiles. Pa built a string of cotton mills in north Georgia, then bought three more in Tennessee. The Northern firm will be buying sixteen mills. Pa left the seventeenth to one of my cousins, and it’s not for sale.”
    McGrath drummed his fingers on the desk again. “Sixteen mills,” he said softly, as if talking to