The westbound train, like a steel dragon, wound its way across the vast North American continent.
The scenery outside the window gradually changed from New York's crowded urban jungle to Pennsylvania's rolling hills, and then to Ohio's endless farmlands.
"Sir, look outside."
His guard, O'Malley, pointed out the window, his voice carrying a hint of a rural Irish man's awe for the land.
"I've never seen so many cattle in my life. They're like... as numerous as fleas on a lawn."
Felix followed his gaze.
Outside the window, hundreds of thousands of cattle grazed leisurely on the open fields.
"This is just the beginning, O'Malley."
"When we get to Illinois, you'll see what a true sea of cattle looks like. And every single one of those cattle represents gold coins. What we need to do is find the owner who mints those gold coins."
When the train's massive steam engine finally puffed white smoke and slowly pulled into Chicago's Union Station, another taciturn guard, Flynn, spoke up.
"Sir, this place..."
He frowned, carefully sniffing the air.
"It smells different from New York."
"Oh? How is it different?"
"It's full of the smell of livestock and money, and... it's more dangerous."
Felix smiled at his words.
"Well said, Flynn. Let's go, gentlemen. Let's get the most expensive suite in Chicago's most expensive hotel. We need to let all the sharks in this city know that a fatter dragon has arrived."
In the luxurious suite at the Tremont House, which overlooked the entire Lake Michigan, Felix gathered his two guards and gave them his instructions for Chicago.
"Flynn, O'Malley."
"Yes, Sir."
"From now on, your mission is no longer to protect me, but to become my ears and eyes."
Felix placed a stack of cash and coins on the table.
"I want you to go to the liveliest taverns in the city, especially those near the Union Stock Yards. Drink and socialize with the cowboys, railroad workers, and slaughterhouse hands."
"Sir, do you mean for us to gather intelligence?" Flynn asked.
"Yes, but not military intelligence," Felix explained. "I want you to listen for complaints, gossip, and the truths spilled after a few drinks."
"Listen to the cowboys talk about which rancher is the most generous, and which is the most stingy."
"Listen to the railroad workers talk about which line has the highest shipping fees, and which station manager can be bribed with money."
"Listen to the slaughterhouse hands complain about who the true underground king of Chicago is, and who belongs to those big Eastern wholesalers."
"In short, I want a map. A map of the real, dirty power behind Chicago's meat and transportation business. Three days. I'm giving you three days and five hundred dollars in expenses. In three days, I want to hear your report here."
"No problem, Sir!"
After Flynn and O'Malley received their orders and left, Felix put on a respectable suit and entered a place entirely different from those street taverns—the Chicago City Bank.
He did not go to see the ordinary account managers.
Instead, he used a letter of recommendation from New York Bank to directly meet the Bank President of this bank, Mr. Harris.
"Mr. Argyle, I've heard much about you, please have a seat!"
Harris was a shrewd Midwestern banker.
"The telegram from New York Bank spoke highly of you. Are you planning to open a branch factory in our city during this visit to Chicago?"
"No, Mr. Harris."
Felix said straightforwardly after sitting down.
"I'm not planning any production in Chicago for now. My purpose here is procurement."
"Procurement?"
"Yes, I want to procure live cattle, large quantities of live cattle, and then transport them by train back to my factory in New York."
The smile on Harris's face faltered slightly. He looked at Felix as if he were an amateur.
"Mr. Argyle, if I may be frank, your costs would likely be exorbitant doing it that way."
He advised in a professional tone.
"Chicago has the world's most advanced slaughter and cold chain technology. Mr. Armour's and Mr. Swift's companies can provide you with the highest quality cut fresh meat. Why would you choose this method?"
"Because I hate middlemen, Mr. Harris."
Felix spread his hands, his expression serious.
"I hate having my lifeline controlled by anyone. Especially those 'old friends' in New York."
Harris was a smart man; he immediately understood the subtext of Felix's words.
"I understand."
"You want to bypass the New York wholesalers and establish a direct supply line, entirely your own, spanning east to west."
"Precisely."
"So, I need your help. I need to establish a fifty-thousand-dollar line of credit at your bank. At the same time, I also need your intelligence. Can you tell me, Mr. Harris, who are the real players in this game?"
Harris looked at Felix with a peculiar gaze.
He realized that this young man was likely about to stir up a storm in Chicago.
And he and his bank needed to choose whether to be a partner or an enemy in this storm.
Ultimately, the desire for huge profits overcame all reservations.
"Alright, Mr. Argyle." He lowered his voice, "You want to bypass Armour and them to directly approach the ranchers. This is a risky move. Because you will be facing two completely different enemies."
"First, there are the ranchers. They are the true kings of the West. Like Iliff, like Goodnight. They hold hundreds of thousands of cattle. They are crude and direct, believing only in cash. To do business with them, you need to be prepared with mountains of dollars."
"And the second, more difficult enemy, is the railroad."
"All cattle must eventually be transported east by rail, and the main lines connecting Chicago and New York, such as the Pennsylvania Railroad and the New York Central Railroad."
Their shareholders have intricate connections with those 'old friends' of yours in New York.
They would never stand by and watch you snatch the biggest piece of fat from under their noses without immense profit."
Felix raised an eyebrow, crossing his hands and pressing his index fingers to his jaw.
"So, the road to the East is blocked?"
"You could say that." Harris nodded. "However, there are always exceptions."
"Oh? Do tell, Mr. Harris."
"Among the many railroad companies, there is one that has always been an anomaly."
Harris said, with a hint of amusement on his face.
"The Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company. Its owner is Charles Reeves. A stubborn, idealistic old man.
He refuses to join any price alliances, and he refuses to bind his interests with any wholesalers, insisting that the railroad should be free and open.
Therefore, he is ostracized by all the big companies. Although his railroad has a good route, it has been struggling on the verge of losses because it cannot secure a stable supply of goods."
Charles Reeves, Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company.
Felix noted the name in his mind.
It seems this trip won't be too smooth; things are starting to get complicated.
In his hotel suite in Chicago, Felix was circling several key locations on a large map of the Midwest with a red pencil.
The Union Stock Yards, several major railway lines, and a name called 'Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company'.
Flynn and O'Malley had just finished their three-day intelligence gathering, bringing back a wealth of the latest information from taverns and the streets.
"Sir, the situation is basically clear."
Flynn respectfully stood before Felix, summarizing.
"The meat business in Chicago is a game of big fish eating small fish. The ranchers from the West are the owners of the cattle. But once they arrive here, they have to curry favor with processing giants like Armour and Swift. And the railways are the knives and forks in the hands of these giants."
"Charles Reeves and his railroad are indeed an anomaly."
O'Malley added from the side.
"Everyone says he is a good man, an idealistic engineer. But here, the word 'good man' usually means the same as 'fool'. His company is being toyed with by those big sharks, little by little."
Felix nodded after listening to the report.
Thinking about the intelligence that had been gathered, Felix knew that he had underestimated the situation.
Those Eastern railway giants and his old rivals in New York were in cahoots.
To make these giants abandon each other, he might even have to change his company's name.
However, there is always a way out.
In his mind, a bold plan had already taken shape.
"You've done well; go rest for a bit."
After the two left, the first thing Felix did was call for the hotel's messenger.
He wrote a carefully worded letter, inviting Harris to a banquet.
He planned to have dinner that night in the hotel's best restaurant to discuss a big business deal.
Felix's invitation quickly received a response.
Night.
In the restaurant overlooking the Chicago nightscape, Felix explained the matter to the shrewd banker.
"Mr. Harris, I need a reliable stockbroker."
Hearing this, Harris was a bit surprised; wasn't the Canning King here to buy cattle?
However, he wouldn't inquire too much about these things.
"Mr. Felix, if you're talking about a reliable stockbroker, that would be Blackwood."
After getting the name Blackwood, Felix immediately arranged a meeting for the next day.
In the office located on the street behind the stock exchange, Felix met the most legendary financial operator in Chicago.
"Hello, Mr. Argyle."
Blackwood pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up, his tone calm.
"I hear you're interested in a rusty railway track?"
"I'm only interested in assets that can bring me huge profits, Mr. Blackwood," Felix said directly, "and I believe Mr. Reeves's company is such an asset."
"Perhaps," Blackwood said noncommittally, "So, how big is your appetite?"
"Very big."
Felix's answer surprised Blackwood.
"However, my eating style will be very refined. I plan to complete this acquisition by slowly boiling the frog."
He placed a New York bank draft on the table.
"Here is five thousand dollars. It's the first start-up capital for our cooperation."
Blackwood glanced at the number, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
"Five thousand dollars? Mr. Argyle, with all due respect, this amount of money won't even make a decent ripple in the stock exchange."
"This is just the first drop of water, Mr. Blackwood."
A confident smile appeared on Felix's face.
"A drop of water that won't stop."
He explained a brand new acquisition model to Chicago's top financial operator.
"My factory in New York is an incredibly profitable machine. Starting next month, on the first day of every month, I will transfer no less than five thousand dollars from New York. Your task is to use this continuous cash flow to quietly acquire shares of the 'Mississippi and Eastern Railroad' for me on the market."
"I don't pursue speed, but rather stealth and cost. I want you to be like the most patient hunter, slowly tightening the noose while the prey is completely unaware."
Blackwood was completely captivated by Felix's 'fight to support the war' plan, which was both crazy and highly logical.
"A... very interesting strategy."
He adjusted his glasses, and for the first time, a light of excitement burst forth in his eyes.
"Using New York's profits to finance the Chicago acquisition. Mr. Argyle, your strategy is excellent."
"So, sir, what about my remuneration?"
"I need to hear your rules."
"My rules are very simple, Mr. Argyle," Blackwood extended two fingers.
"I have two remuneration methods. The first is commission. For every stock purchase you entrust to me, I require a five percent commission on the transaction amount. This is payment for my labor and my network of channels."
"And the second?"
"The second is a success fee."
A businessman's characteristic smile appeared on Blackwood's face.
"Only when you successfully acquire the specific shares you desire will you need to pay me an additional two thousand dollars."
Felix looked at him and nodded.
This fee structure was clear and reasonable.
"Deal," he replied decisively, "I have only one request: all progress must be reported to me. I don't want any unnecessary spectators at this hunt."
"Of course, it will be as you wish, Mr. Argyle."
As the long-term siege plan with Blackwood officially began, Felix immediately launched his second battlefront plan.
He needed to solve the factory's imminent raw material crisis.
He took Flynn and O'Malley, like a true Eastern capitalist, and directly stormed into the chaotic and noisy trading hall of the Union Stock Yards.
Felix ignored the middlemen trying to peddle inferior goods to him and walked directly to the Kansas Miller Ranch's trading post.
"Are you Tom? The chief trader for Miller Ranch?"
Felix looked at the capable, handlebar-mustached man in front of him and asked directly.
"That's me. And you are?"
Tom's tone was filled with the caution characteristic of Westerners.
"Let me introduce myself, Felix Argyle, General Manager of Argyle & Co. Foods."
"I'm here to procure beef for the Federal Army."
The word 'army' immediately changed the atmosphere around them.
"I need cattle, right now," Felix stated his demand with a serious expression.
"Five hundred of your ranch's best beef cattle, to be loaded onto a train within three days."
"Five hundred?"
Tom was taken aback by the number and the unyielding, serious tone.
"Sir, that's no small number. And the eastbound railway is a big problem right now."
"The railway is my problem; you just need to answer if you have the goods."
"Of course, we have the goods."
"Good, the market price is eighteen dollars per head; I'll give you twenty dollars."
"Twenty dollars?!"
Tom and the others around him were surprised; he was actually a rich sucker.
"But I have one condition," Felix looked at him.
"I need Miller Ranch to suspend supplying even a single head of cattle to any wholesaler from New York starting today, until my goods safely arrive in New York."
This was an exclusive demand.
"This... this isn't according to the rules..."
Felix didn't answer him, just gave Flynn a look from behind him.
Flynn stepped forward at the signal and opened a heavy leather case.
Inside were neatly stacked ten thousand dollars in cash.
"Here is ten thousand dollars."
"Half of it is the down payment now, and the other half will be paid on the spot when you drive the five hundred cattle onto the train cars I designate. Tell me, Mr. Tom, are you willing to abide by my 'rule'?"
Tom looked at the box of cash, his throat bobbing.
"Of course, if your ranch isn't willing, then I'll just have to ask someone from the military to talk to you."
Tom immediately knew that he had no room to refuse, and someone else would take over if he did.
"I... I might need to report to Mr. Miller!" he stammered.
"Of course," Felix smiled, "Tell him by the fastest telegram that Argyle & Co. Foods is very much looking forward to establishing a long-term and pleasant cooperative relationship with Miller Ranch."
That evening, Felix received a telegram in his hotel suite.
One from Miller Ranch in Kansas.
"Mr. Argyle, your generosity and strength are admirable. Five hundred cattle, guaranteed delivery within three days. Looking forward to long-term cooperation with you. — Miller."
"It seems the military's intimidating presence still has some deterrent effect."
Felix whispered to himself with a smile on his face.
He knew very well that Miller must have inquired about him and also knew that he had received an order from the military.
Felix's decisive actions caused a minor earthquake in the Union Stock Yards.
The canning magnate from New York, using high prices, exclusive clauses, and military pressure, directly purchased a large batch of the highest quality goods from the big ranchers.
This news spread like wildfire among the middlemen who profited from information asymmetry and monopolistic positions.
That same evening, Felix's hotel, the Tremont House, received several uninvited guests.
They were representatives from Chicago's largest slaughterhouses and processing plants, including the second-in-command of Armour & Company.
"Good evening, Mr. Argyle," the leading man said with a forced smile.
"We heard about your grand gesture at the market. You truly… taught our Chicago counterparts a lesson."
"You flatter me," Felix replied, sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, appearing composed.
"I am merely a patriotic businessman eager to procure sufficient supplies for the Federal Army."
"Patriotic? Aha," the man sneered. Anyone who believed that was a fool.
"Of course, Mr. Argyle, everyone is patriotic. We know you have some conflicts with those New York wholesalers. But, sir, don't you think that bypassing us, the most professional processors, to directly purchase live cattle out of spite is a very… uneconomical and unwise action?"
"Oh? Do tell," Felix said.
"It's simple," the man leaned forward, his tone full of menace.
"You bought the cattle, but you can't transport them. The railways connecting Chicago and the East are all in the hands of us 'friends.'
I can assure you, even if your five hundred head of cattle can be loaded onto a train alive, they will absolutely not arrive in New York alive.
They will be delayed, die, and rot on the way due to various accidents.
Your expensive investment will ultimately turn into a pile of stinking garbage."
"So, you're here to threaten me?" Felix's tone remained calm as he took a sip of the tea on the table.
"No, no, no," the man waved his hand, "How could I threaten a 'patriotic businessman'? I'm just here to offer you a more friendly solution."
"Sell your cattle to us," he finally revealed his true intentions.
"We can purchase all your stock at market price, and then sell the cut, chilled meat back to you at a 'reasonable' price.
Afterward, we will use the Eastern Railroad Alliance's trains to transport it to New York for you.
This way, it solves your immediate problem and maintains the stable and harmonious business order that we in Chicago have established over many years. What do you think?"
Felix looked at him and smiled.
"I don't think much of it; it's a very… terrible proposal."
He stood up and walked to the window.
"Gentlemen, please leave. My cattle will not be sold, and you don't need to worry about how they will be transported."
"That's a terrible decision. You'll regret it, young man."
The man left with that threat, taking his people with him, looking disgruntled.
When the office door closed, Flynn, who had been silent, finally spoke, "Sir, is what they said true? Can they really control the railways?"
"Of course they can," Felix's answer was firm, "But don't worry, I will take care of these matters."
The next day, Felix did not go to the exchange or the bank.
He took Flynn and O'Malley in an inconspicuous carriage to a dilapidated industrial area on the banks of the Chicago River.
This was the headquarters of the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company.
However, rather than a headquarters, it was more like a repair shop filled with the smell of engine oil and coal dust.
An old man with white hair but a straight back was holding a large wrench, working with several laborers to repair the boiler of a steam locomotive.
He was the owner of this railroad company, Charles Reeves.
"Mr. Reeves?" Felix walked up to him.
"That's me. Who are you?" Reeves asked without looking up, his attention entirely on the machine.
"My name is Felix Argyle. A businessman from New York," Felix said, "I'd like to discuss a deal with you."
"A deal?"
Reeves finally straightened up and wiped his hands with a greasy rag. He scrutinized Felix from head to toe, his gaze filled with the peculiar scrutiny and suspicion of an engineer.
"All I have here are rusty tracks and money-losing ventures. I'm afraid there's nothing that would interest you."
"Quite the opposite, Mr. Reeves," Felix smiled, "I am very interested in your tracks. I am even more interested in your courage to challenge the entire railroad oligarchy."
These words made a glint flash in Reeves's eyes.
"Can we find a place to talk privately?"
In Reeves's simple office, cluttered with blueprints and parts, Felix directly presented his cooperation proposal.
"Mr. Reeves, I need your help. I have a batch of five hundred live cattle that need to be transported to New York immediately. And I know your railway is the only route to the East that is not controlled by those large companies."
"My railway?" Reeves gave a self-deprecating laugh.
"Young man, you've probably come to the wrong person. My railway can barely pay its workers' wages right now, let alone undertake a long-distance transport across half of America."
"Money is not an issue."
Felix placed a five-thousand-dollar bank draft on the table.
"This is your prepaid freight charge. I believe it's enough to cover all the expenses for this transport, and it might even make your company's books look better for a while."
Reeves looked at the bank draft, his eyes filled with struggle.
He needed this money like a traveler in the desert needs water.
"Why me?" he asked hoarsely.
"You should know that using my railway is tantamount to declaring war on the entire Eastern Railroad Alliance. They will use every means to retaliate against you."
"I don't care," Felix's reply was full of ease.
"Because I came to Chicago precisely to declare war on them. And you, Mr. Reeves, will be my most important ally in this war."
"Because what I need is not just this one transport," Felix looked at Reeves, saying each word distinctly.
"I need a long-term, stable transportation lifeline. I will exclusively entrust all future freight orders from my company, from the West to the East, to you for carriage."
"My freight volume will be an astronomical figure in the future. It's enough to revitalize your rusty railway and give you enough capital to continue fighting those oligarchs."
Reeves, an idealist who had been stubborn his entire life, was completely moved by Felix's powerful and visionary promise.
He looked at Felix as if he saw his younger self.
"Good!"
He slammed his hand on the table and stood up.
"Young man, I like your guts! I'll take this deal. I'll have my trusted men lead the team, and even if we have to lay tracks to hell, I guarantee I'll deliver your cattle to New York, not a single one less!"
"Then, a pleasant cooperation, Mr. Reeves."
"A pleasant cooperation, Mr. Argyle."
A satisfied smile appeared on Felix's face; he had obtained the crucial rusty key to open the western passage.
That evening, Felix's hotel suite once again received an encrypted telegram from Blackwood.
"Five thousand shares acquired. Prey is unaware. — B."
Felix burned the telegram.