Armed with a list of ranchers and farmers Sullivan had given me, I set out in high spirits. I wasn’t disappointed. It turned out to be great craic sweet-talking these fellers into signing with S&K Exploration. Some were oul’, whiskery craturs whose accents I could barely understand. I found if I kept smiling, maybe patted their hand a few times and insisted I was not from “back East,” I had a good chance of convincing them to sign over their leases. I learned they didn’t trust anybody from the East, so I made sure to tell them we were a Texas company. Often their wives hovered in the background looking daggers at me, but I soon found out the men paid no attention to them. This was “men’s business,” and that was grand with me.

The younger fellers were a different kettle of fish. They were suspicious of me and grilled me all about the oil business to make sure I knew what I was talking about. If I passed that test, they’d chance their arms by saying they’d agree if I did them a favor in return. When that happened I stood up and walked out. Some called me back and said they were sorry, and some didn’t.

Sullivan’s list included both Aidan O’Hanlon’s leases as well as others. He’d said it would make it less obvious that it was only O’Hanlon’s leases we were after. But I was getting bonuses for all the ones I signed, so I treated them all the same. The hardest nuts to crack, though, were with them that had leases with O’Hanlon. I was shocked at how loyal they were to him, even though I was offering them more money. Feminine persuasion only went so far in these cases, so I stuck to the money side of it. That often did the trick. If not, and the wife was hovering in the background, I would appeal to her. “I’m sure you could use the extra money, couldn’t you?” The wives would give the husbands a pleading look, and often they’d give in.

I had to admit I was good, and I was enjoying myself so much that at times I even forgot why I was there. My memory was jogged one day when driving past one of the oil fields I saw Sullivan’s spy, Grissom, standing talking to a handsome, dark-haired man who looked to be in his thirties. Curious, I told the driver to stop and made my way over to them. Grissom looked surprised and even a bit annoyed to see me.

“Hello there, Mr. Grissom,” I said, ignoring his frowns. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He began to turn away from me, but I wasn’t having it. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” I said.