18
Yes, sir,” a suit-clad man told Caleb, “Mr. Morgan plans great things. He’s arranged to buy up most of the area near the river in a little town about ten miles from here. Folks thought he was crazy, but recently plans were announced to incorporate that area into the city limits. Morgan is always one step ahead of everybody else. He’s going to have the largest locomotive shops west of the Mississippi. Not only to repair them, but build them.” The man shook his head. “He’ll make a fortune to add to the one he already has.”
Having connected through friends, Caleb found the private investigator, John, to be a wealth of information. He reached into his wallet and pulled out several bills. “And you say he’s been having trouble with one individual?”
“Yes. Joseph Gifford owns about eighty acres of prime real estate and won’t sell. Morgan considered just rearranging his plans and going around the old man’s property. He had people out there surveying the entire lay of the land, but it proved impossible to change his location without it costing twice as much. Gifford has remained a hold out, and it would seem no matter what Morgan offers him, he refuses to sell to him.” The investigator took Caleb’s money. “However, I’ve heard tell it won’t be a problem much longer.”
Caleb cocked his head. “Why’s that?”
John stuffed the bills in his pocket. “I’m not entirely sure. I just know from what’s being whispered about that Morgan believes he’s found a solution.”
“I see.”
And he did. Caleb believed Kenzie was at the center of that solution. If Morgan got his son married to Gifford’s daughter, no doubt he believed there would be a compromise. And if not willingly, then by making Kenzie miserable and forcing Gifford’s hand.
“And what of his personal life?” Caleb asked. “Is Morgan stable? Does he manage his family well?”
“From what I’ve seen, he rules them pretty much with an iron fist. They do his bidding or suffer the consequences. He has several children, some married, some not. All his boys are in the family business and answer to the old man.”
“Do you know anything about their business dealings?”
John shrugged. “A Morgan is a Morgan. They go after what they want and usually have little trouble getting it. They’re related to J. P. Morgan, you know, second cousins or something along those lines, and when they can’t get matters done on their own, they aren’t shy about seeking his help. I figure that’s how they plan to have this matter with Gifford taken care of.”
Caleb hadn’t known about the connection with J. P. Morgan, probably the most powerful man in the United States. During the depression of the 1890s, he’d single-handedly saved the U.S. government from complete financial failure by putting up his own money. He had his hands in everything lucrative—steel, railroads, shipping, and anything else that tickled his fancy. If he truly were related to the Kansas City Morgans, they shouldn’t have any trouble at all in accomplishing what they wanted.
“Let me know if you get any more information that you think I should know,” Caleb said. “I believe I’ll ride over to see where Mr. Morgan wants to set up his shops.”
The investigator nodded. “I’ll keep on it.”
“Thanks, John. Oh, and I appreciate the loan of your horse.”
“You’ll be glad for him instead of my car. The roads are laid out well enough, but not always maintained, especially once you leave the city.”
Caleb bid John farewell, then mounted the black gelding. It had been a while since he’d been on horseback. He nudged the animal into a trot and headed out to find Kenzie’s folks.
Kansas City was hilly and packed with people. Everyone seemed to be anxious to be somewhere, and most appeared to be late. A few people were rude and intolerant of those around them, as was true of most large cities, but most were congenial. Unlike San Francisco, there was no ocean or even large open bay. The muddy Missouri River flowed along the northern edge of the city, offering river travel to the mighty Mississippi. The geographic position of Kansas City made it a nearly perfect center mark for the entire nation, and every major railroad had connections to the town. If Morgan could control even a part of that, he would not only make a fortune, he would control a vital part of the country’s transportation. It gave a clear motive to Morgan doing whatever he needed to do in order to get what he wanted.
John’s directions out of the city were easy to follow. The farms and pasturelands picked up almost immediately where the city’s buildings left off. Occasionally, rocky ravines and thickly forested areas offered contrast, but this was still agricultural land. Acres and acres of wheat and corn made a patchwork of the landscape, and from time to time there were open meadows with herds of horses or cattle feasting upon thick green vegetation. It was pretty country, but hot and humid, and Caleb found himself longing for a bath.
He felt fairly confident of what he’d hear about Joseph Gifford. Given what John had relayed, it seemed Morgan had given up conventional means of getting the property and now approved of the marriage of his son to Kenzie. If Morgan had truly interfered in his son’s life and Arthur knew nothing of his role, then Kenzie’s letter had no doubt awakened her former fiancé to what had happened. Arthur had probably confronted his father, and Morgan, being in a bind with Gifford, had used it as a means to get what he wanted. Maybe sacrificing the family’s social status by allowing his son to marry beneath him was worth it in lieu of getting the Gifford land.
After an hour’s ride, Caleb reached the tiny town where all the trouble was centered. It was quaint, typical of the Midwest, showing both a mixture of agricultural as well as river interests. There was a town square with a bandstand, and all around this were a variety of businesses. The library where Kenzie had worked was at one end of the square beside the post office. Gifford Emporium was across the square from that, nearer the river port and small train depot. There were a variety of other buildings—general stores, a bank, a barber’s shop, and a butcher. Caleb counted at least three churches, several cafés, and a book and toy store. Not far from the depot was a grain elevator and what looked like a hardware store. Houses were arranged beyond the city square in beautiful tree-lined neighborhoods. All in all, it was a charming place.
He spied a man wearing a star-shaped badge on his suit coat and stopped to inquire. Tipping his hat, Caleb asked, “I wonder if you could direct me to the Gifford residence.”
“Joseph Gifford?” the man asked. “I’m the law here. May I ask your business?”
Caleb smiled. “Of course. I’m a good friend of his daughter’s. I promised her I’d look him up when I came to town. Actually, he’s expecting me. The name is Caleb Coulter.” He leaned down from the horse and extended his hand.
The thick-waisted lawman shook his hand. “Always glad to meet a friend of the Giffords.” He smiled and pointed. “You see the Emporium at the end of the street? Just turn there and head two blocks down. You’ll see a large two-story white house trimmed out in green. Has a white picket fence that runs the length of the front yard.”
“Thanks. Nice town, by the way.”
“It is, although I don’t know how long it’ll stay that way. Kansas City plans to expand its territory. We’re soon to become a part of their fair city. Big men with big money want to change our way of life.”
“I can well imagine. Still, I suppose it could be good for you in that there will be plenty of jobs and new people wanting to come to the area.”
“There’s plenty of folks here already. If I wanted to live in a big city, I’d have settled in Kansas City to begin with. I prefer my small town. Less trouble and crime. Kansas City always has one problem or another. Big bunch of hoodlums in and out of there all the time, and the Pendergasts make sure things always break their way.”
