Follow Your Heart. Rosanne Bittner
Читать онлайн книгу.
oak desk in the Chicago offices of Kingman Investments was no less guilty than the rest of the opportunists covertly making their fortunes off the general public, while openly crying bankruptcy.
Jude walked over to a window and stared out at the heavy traffic in the street below. Two men whose buggy wheels had accidentally locked together were arguing and shaking their fists at each other. “We both know the real reason behind these money woes,” he said, turning to face his father again.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking we should play the role of martyrs here,” Jude’s brother chided.
Jude shifted his gaze to his younger sibling. He and Mark were Yale educated, both in charge of various factions of the Kingman empire; but Mark looked so much more like their father—in his short, stocky build, chin line and smile, in his light brown hair and pale gray eyes that turned a deeper, cold blue-gray color when it came to business dealings, like right now. Anyone who didn’t know them would not believe he and Mark were brothers. They were so different in looks and personality.
Smile to their faces, shake their hands, stab them in the back whenever necessary. That was Mark’s motto. In that respect he and their father were most alike. Jude’s disagreement with such an attitude often spawned arguments among them over business dealings.
“I’m not suggesting any such thing,” Jude answered Mark. “I’m just asking why we should force innocent people to pay for the grievous errors and greediness of the men who invested in the railroad and then pocketed money that rightfully belonged to the government and the railroad.”
“You yourself are benefiting from some of that greed, big brother,” Mark reminded him smugly. “You and I might not have made the decisions, but we’re living very nicely off some of that money, and I intend to help Dad protect his interests in this. I’m sure you want the same.”
Jude frowned. Mark always had a way of making it look as if he was the only son who was interested in their father’s welfare. He turned his attention to his father. “Some of those people worked their land for years before the railroads even reached them. Now we’re going to turn around and tell them they have to get out?”
“Or pay a big price,” Mark answered first. “It’s not our fault they fell for the underhanded dealings of disreputable land agents.”
Compelled to direct his attention to his brother again, Jude forced self-control. “Well, that’s just like you, Mark, isn’t it? Far be it from you to consider a person’s feelings if it might cost you an expensive cigar or caviar for breakfast.”
“That’s enough,” their father ordered. He scowled at Jude. “The point is, son, that we can find people back in New York and Boston and even overseas who would be happy to buy up that land at premium prices, especially now that it’s been worked and there are towns sprouting up all along the railroad. Don’t forget that those first settlers went out there with dreams of getting rich off the railroad, so they are no less guilty of greed than we are.”
“They were promised they could buy that land at rock-bottom prices,” Jude protested.
“No money ever changed hands, so they aren’t out anything. We have every right to take back the land and sell it. And think of what we can use that money for—branching lines north and south of the main route, as well as getting the railroad back in the black. This whole land situation has been a mess, and everybody knows it. This will likely end up in court. Why not get rid of some of those people right now, before it gets that far? They don’t have a chance anyway, let alone the money to fight us. Our family business has a lot to lose if the U.P. goes under.”
Jude raised his eyebrows and smirked. “I suspect we’ve already gained much more than we will ever lose,” he answered. He moved to sit down in a large leather chair next to Mark.
Jefferson sighed. “Those people were too ignorant and poor to put up decent money and get properly signed and registered deeds in the first place. Those farmers are now nothing more than squatters, Jude, and you have to face that fact. Why does this bother you so much?”
Jude sighed. “Because we aren’t dealing with other ruthless businessmen,” he answered, “men who would walk all over us to get what they wanted. These are simple farmers, most of them immigrants, who thought they were doing the right thing—people who came to America with dreams of a better life and who worked hard to make that happen.”
“Whoa! Whoa, big brother!” Mark said with a chuckle. “Get off your soapbox. When did you become such a supporter of the poor and downtrodden?”
Jude ignored him. “I just don’t want the Kingman name associated with hard-heartedness and walking all over poor people,” he told his father.
“Maybe he’d like to go live in a soddy and help plow the cornfields,” Mark suggested snidely.
“There must be some alternative to this,” Jude said.
“There isn’t,” Jefferson answered.
Jude noticed a familiar, cold look move into the man’s eyes, the look that meant he’d made a decision and there was no arguing with it.
“But since you’re better at dealing with the common people than Mark is,” Jefferson continued, “I’m sending you down to Omaha with the job of doing what you can to get rid of some of those settlers, Jude—and just as you mentioned, without making us look bad.”
Jude just shook his head. “Why do I get the feeling this is some kind of test?”
“It is. Dad knows I can run Kingman Enterprises better than you can,” Mark told him. “Here’s your chance to show him you can come through for him.”
“That’s enough, Mark,” Jefferson told him, keeping his eyes on Jude. “I’m getting older, Jude, and it’s time you and Mark both take on even more holdings of my businesses. And although Mark is younger, he seems to understand the necessity of keeping personal feelings out of business dealings, something you’ve always had trouble doing. However, you’re handsome and charming and intelligent. This is the perfect venue for you to show me what you can do. I want to go out of this world confident that you and Mark can both take care of Kingman Investments and Corporate Enterprises.”
Jefferson stood up, obviously becoming agitated, his face reddening slightly, his chest puffed out, pride making him raise his chin and speak a little louder. Jude thought how, when his father took on this mood, he seemed much taller than his five-foot-eight-inch frame.
“I came up from the bottom,” Jefferson continued. “You both know that. I started with nothing, and I scraped and saved and earned and fought my way to the top, investing, reinvesting, taking advantage of good deals, buying at premium lows, and, yes, sometimes walking right over people to get what I wanted.”
His words came as he paced, but then he stopped and came around to sit on his desk, facing both sons. His look turned harder. “You’ve heard the story before. My father was once wealthy, but he lost it all through a partner who stabbed him in the back financially!” His fists tightened. “My mother—your grandmother—died from lack of proper medical care when she became gravely ill and there was no money for a hospital and doctors. My father shot himself because he felt like a failure and felt responsible for my mother’s death. I vowed then and there that I would make up for all of it, and I have. That included putting out of business the very man who destroyed my father. Now I’m depending on my own sons to make their father proud, and to never let what I’ve spent my life building be destroyed.”
He sat down behind his desk again. “Remember that what you have will go to your own children some day. Do this for them. Handle this right, and all my railroad interests will go to you. Mark will handle everything else. I’m talking millions of dollars and a lot of responsibility, Jude. Do this not just for me, but for yourself.”
Jude studied his father’s eyes, trying to find love there. He saw a spark of it, but always it was mixed with a strange doubt. It was that doubt that had always made him long for approval and affection from both his parents. Here