# The Boss of Wind River/Chapter 6

pp. 74-92.

### VI

AS a matter of fact Kent was rather relieved when Miss Garwood's visit ended. Whether he had made a mistake or not he was ready to abide by it; but he found himself in a false position, and he greatly disliked to witness the open attentions of numerous young men, to which he could not very well object. However, he had a number of other things, just as important and considerably more pressing, to think about.
For instance, there was the question of car shortage. The Peninsular Railway, which was the only line serving Falls City, seemed to have no rolling stock available. Promises were forthcoming in plenty—but no cars. Complaints of delayed shipments from indignant purchasers poured down on Kent in a daily deluge. He and Wright besieged the manager, the traffic superintendent, and the dispatchers, demanding flats and boxes—anything on wheels—and by dint of unremitting persistence were able to obtain about half as many cars as they needed.
It was this difficulty which made Joe, after consultation with Wright, refuse a proposition of Clancy Brothers, with whom they already had a large delivery contract, calling for almost double the quantity of lumber which they had a right to purchase under the existing agreement, and at the same rate and same terms of delivery.
“No use making contracts if we can't get cars,” said Joe regretfully when he had read the Clancys' letter.
“That's so,” said Wright. “We'll explain it to them. I suppose if they want more lumber, and if we can ever get anything to ship it in, we can sell it to them.” And he wrote them to that effect and subsequently regretted it, for cars began to come easier.
And then there was the situation at the bank. The notes were coming due, and though there was no objection to renewing those which Crooks had endorsed, the bank intimated that the others should be reduced.
“But why?” asked Joe. “You have collateral. The security is as good now as when they were given.”
“The personal liability is different,” replied Hagel, manager of the Commercial Bank. He was a stout, pompous, side-whiskered man of middle age, inclined to a solemnity of speech which partially cloaked an innate stupidity, and he held his position mainly because he did as he was told, without question. “Your father's ability to pay was one thing; yours—you'll pardon me—is quite another.”
“In other words, you don't think I can run the business?” said Joe.
Hagel raised a protesting hand. “It is not what I think, Mr. Kent. My directors, in their wisdom, foresee a—er—a financial storm. We must shorten sail, Mr. Kent—hem!—yes—shorten sail. I regret the necessity, but——”
“All right,” Joe interrupted. “If you insist, of course I'll have to take up the notes when they mature. To do that I'll have to borrow money, and I don't feel inclined to leave my account where I can't get ordinary accommodation. I'll go over to the Farmers' National and see what McDowell will do for me.”
McDowell was manager of the latter institution, and the very antipodes of Hagel, who hated him. He was young, popular, brusque, and a thorough-paced sport after banking hours.
“I trust you won't do that,” said Hagel, for the Kent account was a very valuable one. “You have other accommodation from us, and we have had your account for a long time.”
“That's got nothing to do with it,” said Joe, who was developing a most disconcerting habit of going straight to the point. “You people are trying to keep the cream and make me hustle to sell skim milk. If you force me to hunt accommodation elsewhere not another dollar of my money goes through your hands. You'll do what seems best to you, of course; but I want to know now where I am at.”
Hagel had lost some very good accounts which the Farmers' National had subsequently acquired, and his directors had made unpleasant remarks. Although he was merely carrying out their instructions in this instance, he knew director nature well enough to realize that he would be blamed if the account were withdrawn.
“Better wait a few days, Mr. Kent,” he said. “I'll put your views before my board, and I think it very likely the matter can be arranged—very likely indeed.”
“All right,” said Joe; “but that's how it lies. I don't think I'm getting a square deal, and if I have to lift the notes I'll take the account with them.”
On top of this there came another trouble, and a serious one. Joe, one morning, had just rung for his stenographer when Wright burst in upon him in considerable agitation, brushing past that long-suffering young lady in the doorway.
“What do you think of this?” he cried, waving a sheet of paper. “That infernal railway——” He swore venomously, and Joe's stenographer, with a glance at her employer, discreetly withdrew, for she was a young woman of experience.
“What's the row?” Joe asked. “And you might shade your language a little. Not that I mind, but I don't want Miss Brown to quit her job.”
“A readjustment of freight rates!” cried Wright. “A readjustment! And look what they've done to lumber!”
Joe grabbed the paper, glanced at it, and supplemented his manager's remarks with great heartiness. In a general and long-promised overhauling of freight rates that on lumber was boosted sky-high. But he did not at once grasp the full significance of it. He saw that the result would be to increase the price of lumber proportionately and restrict building to some extent in certain localities; but in the end the consumer would pay, as usual.
“Rotten!” he commented. “The old rate was high enough. Looks like a case for the Transportation Commission. They ought to scale this down.”
“They'll get around to it in a couple of years,” snorted Wright with bitter contempt. “Meanwhile where do we get off at? I tell you it just cuts the heart out of our business.”
“I don't see——” Joe began.
“You don't?” Wright fairly shouted. “No, and I don't see it all myself—yet. But look what it does to our contract with the Clancys!”
Now the contract with Clancy Brothers, mentioned before, was peculiar. They logged and manufactured lumber, but not nearly all for which they had sale. They operated a system of selling yards in twenty towns. By the terms of an agreement made by his father, which had more than a year to run, Kent was bound to supply them with lumber as required to a stated maximum amount at a stated price according to quality; and they, on their part, were bound to order lumber to a stated minimum quantity.
But instead of the price being f.o.b. Falls City, as was usual, the Clancys had insisted on a delivery price at their central yard, thus striking an average and getting rid of trouble. Therefore the price of the lumber per thousand feet was based on a calculation in which the then existing freight rate was an important factor. Thus an unforeseen and substantial increase in the rate meant a corresponding loss to Kent, if the Clancys chose to hold him to the agreement. Joe looked at his manager in slowly, dawning comprehension.
“Why—why—hang it, Wright,” he said slowly, “it means a dead loss to us on every foot of boards we sell them!”
“Just that,” Wright agreed grimly. “And they'll boost their price with the rest of the retail men and make a double profit.”
“Surely they won't hold us up when we're losing money and they're making two kinds?” said Joe, from his utter inexperience.
“Won't they?” snapped Wright. “They'll hold us up for every foot the contract calls for.” He stopped suddenly. “And only a couple of weeks ago they wanted us to enter into a new contract for double the quantity at the same rates. Now I see it!”
“They had advance information of the change!” gasped Joe.
“Sure. After all, that car shortage was a good thing; otherwise we'd have closed with them. Now our only chance to get out even is to find a hole in the contract.”
Joe's hope that the Clancys would not hold him to a losing agreement went glimmering, but he didn't quite like Wright's suggestion. “We made this contract with our eyes open,” he said. “At least my father did. Would it be square to back out now, even if we could?”
“Square?” exclaimed Wright. “Look at the dirty game they tried on us! Anything's square with people like them. I'd rob their safe if I could. Didn't they try to get a new contract that would kill us? Did you ever see them?”
“No,” Joe admitted. “I heard they were good business men, that's all.”
“Business men!” Wright struggled for appropriate words, and finding none threw out his hands in a protesting gesture. “They're all that and then some. I wish I had half their business ability. They're a pair of cold-blooded, dirty-tongued, sewer-rat devils, with the knack of making money hand over fist. And you see how they do it! But they pay up to the day and the cent, and they never squeal when they're hit, I'll say that for them.”
“Then we won't squeal either,” said Joe proudly. “Maybe, after all, they'll let us down easy.”
“Not them,” said Wright, ungrammatically but positively.
Not two hours afterward a wire was received from Clancy Brothers ordering a large consignment of dressed lumber which they wanted rushed.
“What did I tell you?” said Wright sadly. “And the nerve of them to want it rushed. Rushed! I'll see them in blazes first. They'll take their turn, and that's last.”
This strategic delay was provocative of results. Some days afterward Joe's telephone rang.
“Is that Misther Kent?” demanded a heavy voice at the other end of the wire. “It is? Well, this is Finn Clancy, talkin'—Finn Clancy of Clancy Brothers. I want to know how about that lumber we ordered. Is ut shipped yit?”
“Not yet,” Joe replied. “We don't——”
“An' why the divil isn't ut?” interrupted Clancy. “Haven't ye got ut cut?”
“Yes,” Joe admitted, “but——”
“No 'buts' about it,” Clancy cut him short again. “Don't tell me ye can't get cars. I know better. That gag don't work no more. I'll have yeez people to understand that when we order lumber we want lumber an' not excuses. Th' contract calls for——”
“I know quite well what it calls for,” Joe interrupted in his turn. “If you think you've got a kick, come up to the office and make it.” And he slammed the receiver back on the hook viciously.
Half an hour afterward Wright ushered in the brothers Clancy. Finn Clancy fulfilled the promise of his telephone voice. He stood over six feet; he was broad, deep-chested, and red-bearded, with a pair of bright blue eyes hard as polished steel. John Clancy was small, dark, and wizened, and his mouth was a straight slit, tucked in at the corners.
“This is Mr. Kent,” said Wright.
The brothers stared at Joe for a moment.
“So ut was you I was talkin' to?” growled Finn Clancy belligerently.
“It was,” said Joe shortly, but, realizing the advisability of holding his temper, he added: “Sit down, gentlemen.”
They sat down. Finn heavily; John cautiously.
“Now about the lumber,” Joe began. “We've been delayed one way and another, but we'll ship it in a day or two.”
“You betther,” Finn rumbled. “We got contracts to fill, an' we got a contract wid you. You want to remember that.”
“I do remember it,” said Joe. “Also I remember that you tried to get us to sign a new one for double the amount, not so very long ago. I suppose it was a coincidence that the freight rate was boosted a few days afterward.”
They simply grinned at him. John Clancy chuckled dryly, as if it were the best joke in the world.
“If we'd 'a' got that we'd 'a' made money,” he said.
“No doubt,” Joe commented. “You're making enough as it is. We lose money on every order of yours that we fill.”
“That's your business,” said Finn, and John's mouth tucked in a little more. He shot an understanding glance at his brother, but said nothing.
“Quite true,” said Joe. “And your profits will be doubled by the increased price of lumber. In view of that it occurred to us that you might be willing to amend the contract so as to let us out even.”
“That occurred to ye, did it?” said the big man. There was a sneer in his voice. “It didn't occur to us, did it, Jawn?”
“It did not, Finn,” said John positively.
“Well, I mention it to you now,” said Joe. “We don't want to lose money, but we'd be satisfied with an even break. Your profits will be big enough to allow us that. But it's up to you. If you choose to hold us up I suppose you can do it.”
“There's no holdin' up about it,” said Finn. “You contract to deliver lumber at one price; we contract to buy it at that price. If it goes down we lose; if it goes up you lose. Anyways ye had yer eyes open when ye signed. That's how I look at it. Am I right, Jawn?”
“Ye are,” declared his brother. “If so be lumber had went down, wud we have came whinin' to ye to let us off our contract? We wud not. When we lose we pay, an' say nawthin' about it. That's business.”
“All right,” said Joe; “it may be. But if I stood to make as much money as you do I'd see that the other fellow didn't lose anything, that's all.”
“It's aisy to talk,” sneered Finn; “an' all the time ye do be holdin' up our order, thinkin' to bluff us into amendin' the contract. Is that straight business, young felly?”
Joe flushed, for there was just a little truth in the words.
“That's not so,” he replied. “Your order will go through, but I won't rush it for you. And if you'll allow me to give you a pointer, Clancy, it's to the effect that you're not in a position to make insinuations.”
“I don't insinuate, I talk straight,” retorted Clancy. “I'm onto ye, young felly. Ye'll keep that contract to the letter, or I'll know why!” and he emphasized his ultimatum with an oath.
“Mr. Clancy,” said Joe icily, though his temper was at boiling point, “we'll dispense with profanity. I do all the necessary swearing here myself, understand. I won't have strong language or loud talk in my office.”
“Won't ye?” shouted Clancy. “Why, ye damned little——”
Joe Kent's chair crashed back against the wall. Its occupant put his hand on the desk and vaulted it, alighting poised on his toes in front of the big man so suddenly that the latter paused in sheer amazement.
“Go ahead and say what you were going to,” said Joe with a queer little shake in his voice; “and then, you dirty mucker, I'll give you a lesson in manners!”
Finn Clancy would have tackled a Dago armed with a knife or a construction hand holding a shovel without an instant's hesitation, for he was quite devoid of physical fear and a scrapper to his fingers' tips. But to have a quiet, brown-eyed young man suddenly leap a desk in an orderly business office and challenge him was so surprising that he paused.
He took careful note of the steady, watchful eyes, the sweep of the lean jaw, the two brown fists swinging to just the slightest oscillation of the tensed forearms, and the poise of the body on the gripping feet; and he knew that if his tongue uttered the words on the tip of it those fists would smash into him with all the driving power of a very fine pair of shoulders behind them.
Knowing it, his lips opened to speak the words; and Joe Kent, who had mastered the difficult art of starting a punch from wherever his hand happened to be, tautened his arm and shoulder muscles to steel.
John Clancy intervened.
“There's enough of this,” he said. “Dry up, Finn. For why wud ye start rough-house wid the lad? An' you, Kent, 'tis wan punch ye'd have, an' then he'd kill ye.” He pushed roughly between them and took his brother by the shoulder. “Come on out o' here, Finn, now. Lave him be, I tell ye!”
“I won't,” said Finn. “I'll tell him what I think iv him. An' if he makes a pass at me, Jawn, I'll break him acrost me knee!”
“An' be pulled f'r it, wid yer name in the papers, an' a fine, an' a lawyer to pay, an' all,” said his brother bitterly. “Have some sense. I'll not stand f'r it, an' I warn ye!”
“Let him go, and stand out of the way!” cried Joe. “There'll be no law about it, Clancy, I promise you that, whichever way it goes.” His blood was dancing in his veins and he laughed nastily in the surge of his anger. He fairly hungered to whirl two-handed into this big, beefy Irishman, and give or take a first-class licking.
John Clancy put his open hand on his brother's breast and pushed him back. “Ye're a pair of fools,” he announced dispassionately. “Can't ye talk over a business matter widout scrappin'? Be ashamed! It's little good ye've done yerself, Kent, this day. Finn, come on out of here!”
“All right,” growled Finn as he took a step toward the door, propelled by his brother's insistent hand. “Lave me be, Jawn. I'll get him another time. Mind ye, now,” he cried to Kent, “we mane to have every foot of timber the contract calls for, an' no shenanigan about ut! An' ye may bless yer stars for Jawn, here, me bucko. Only for him I'd have lamed ye!”
Joe did not reply to the threat. “When you came in I was willing to stay with the contract, even at a loss,” he said. “Now, I tell you straight that if there's a way out of it you won't get another foot of boards from me.”
John Clancy grinned at him. “Hunt for holes in it, an' welcome,” he said dryly. “If our lawyers is bum we want to know it, so we can change 'em. Nicholas K. Ryan drawed that agreement. I'm thinkin' ye couldn't break it wid dynymite.”
When they had gone Joe dug his copy of the agreement out of the safe and went to see Locke.
“I want to know,” he said, “if this agreement will hold water.”
Locke barely glanced at the document.
“Ryan drew this, and your father signed it against my advice,” he said. “Hold water? It would hold gas. What's the matter? Aren't they living up to it?”
“Living up to it? I should say they are!” exclaimed Joe. “That's just the trouble. I want to know if there's a way out of this for me?” He explained the position, and the lawyer listened, frowning.
“They're a sweet pair,” he commented. “And so you want to dodge out of an agreement with them because you stand to lose money on it?”
Joe reddened. Baldly put it amounted to just that, though in the heat of his anger he had lost sight of his former scruples.
“They've rubbed you the wrong way,” said Locke, “and no doubt they're too crooked to lie straight in a ditch, but that doesn't affect this contract. You can't break it.”
“If I haven't a chance I won't fight,” said Joe. “I guess you're right about the ethics of the case, too. They made me so mad I forgot that side of it. Of course they knew the railway was going to jump the rate on us. Have you any idea why it was jumped.”
“I suppose they knew you'd have to stand for it,” said Locke, grimly. “That's enough reason for any railroad.”