“The two of them were sitting at the end of one of the tables after dinner, going over the accounts. Spread open between them was Molly’s big black ledger. Papers and receipts were scattered across the table.“Doesn’t make sense,” he said, tapping a finger on the page in front of him. “With the railroad into Billings, you should’ve sold a thousand head more than you did.”“That’s what I thought, but we didn’t,” she answered. “The market wasn’t there. Happens all the time. Scully drives a herd to B...illings, talks to the yardmaster, and finds out the order was already filled. So we either sell at a lower price or else we bring them back home. Scully did that once when the price went down to fifteen dollars a head.”“Scully was right. Fifteen dollars was giving them away. You’d have lost money. If we had more help, we could forget Chicago and sell to the mining camps. They never have enough beef.”Molly nodded. “I sold some to Bozeman camp a couple of times, but it’s a six-day drive up there and took every man on the place.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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