and devotees. The older gentleman never missed an opportunity to convey the Society’s message whenever the occasion presented itself.
He glanced around at the expensively and stylishly attired men with their gold rings and gilded watch fobs in abundance. These were the businessmen he needed to attract to the Society: People eager to hold onto what they had achieved and dreading a future that might take it away from them.
Caden lifted his head over the group. At six foot four with his trained and sculpted physique, he was taller and stronger than most men. He exhaled, feeling once more the advantage of his superior physical and mental attributes. “To be precise, we favor its permanent adoption into federal law and immigration policy. Further, we advocate its immediate and universal application to any group deemed undesirable by our great and sovereign nation. Should I have the pleasure of your attendance at my next lecture I will explain in detail how our Society is working toward the betterment of mankind now and in the future.” He raised his hand to part the men. “Gentlemen, if you will—”
A sudden round of applause caught the doctor off guard. Arley thrust his hand out, took hold of Caden’s, and shook it vigorously. “That was very powerful, Caden. That is exactly what we need to hear these days. It would be an honor and a pleasure for you to finally meet my daughter, Gabrielle.”
Caden felt an unexpected rush of excitement and anticipation. “Certainly, Arley, and thank you.”
One by one the others politely introduced themselves.
“Liam Dawson, sir. We met briefly the other day.”
“Of course.” Caden nodded to acknowledge the younger man.
“The papers paint you as quite the instigator.”
Caden smiled as he glanced toward the Gulf. “No storm has more fury than the one raging in the soul of a race.”
A slow grin crept along the lips of each man.
Caden made a gesture of welcome. “No need to wait until my lecture, gentlemen. If you would be kind enough to step inside, my assistants and I will provide the guidance you need to prepare for the political cataclysm that is surely coming our way.”
Leaving the telegraph office in late afternoon, Bret strolled down Market Street, winding his way through a dawdling host of noisy tourists returning to the shops after a day’s idle at the beach. The cries of the street vendors rose above the shuffling commotion. “Here’s your nice hot corn! Smoking hot! Piping hot! O’ what beauties I have got!”
The richness of every kind of dry good imaginable, from saratogas to sack suits and canopy tops to telephones, promised a future built on the seeming unending successes of American ingenuity.
Shopkeepers, shipping merchants, coopers, and coachmen—how would they fare in the rapid and ruthless new world of international commerce?
“Fresh fish fit for the pan!”
Bret paused to examine a pair of white patent leather shoes with tan kid tops in a shop window. Maybe Gabrielle was right about the drilling at Beaumont. He shook his head. Had he frightened himself into imagining a cold-blooded and competitive economic future that wasn’t anywhere evident in the gracious and welcoming shops of the city?
Bret tapped his finger rapidly on the glass. Of course, Liam was only trying to help him, talk him out of the risky partnership with Lucas and Higgins, before he sunk another dollar into the dry dirt. Cut your losses and run.
That’s what an astute Galveston gentleman in these new, white shoes would do. Bret reached into his pocket and pulled out today’s telegram from Beaumont. Only problem was there was nothing and nowhere else left to run to. And Lucas still needed more funds to complete the latest drilling.
If additional investment could not be secured within the next few weeks, the entire oil venture and his life here would collapse, but who could he convince in this proud city of retired cotton barons and cattle men; men like himself who had been taught to only pay for what you can see and touch?
Bret crumpled the telegram and threw it into the gutter. Friday night’s party would be crucial to his future. And Gabrielle was certain to be the most beautiful and alluring lady there, that is, for a more promising man capable of winning such a superior woman.
Feeling the itch at the back of his throat and pressure in his chest, he turned south on 18th Street and headed straight for Carlyle’s Drug Store to buy a fresh bottle of his cough medicine.
Ichabod Weems sat at his desk