The Tycoon Read Online Free PDF

table. The table in the formal dining room seated twelve, but they rarely ate there. All three of them liked the intimacy of dining in the breakfast room.
    Johnnie Sue served them fried quail, mashed potatoes and cream gravy and homemade biscuits. After the meal, she cleared the table and they sat talking. “When you going to Lubbock?” Dad asked.
    The Lockhart family owned fourteen thousand acres of cotton farms and grazing land between Lubbock and Amarillo. Seven years ago, Drake had negotiated leases on a third of the land with an energy provider. Completed wind turbines stood in neat rows on part of the cotton fields and some were still under construction.
    “Before the end of the year,” he answered.
    “I’ve been thinking about what we talked about,” Dad said. “About getting involved in building those windmills. I’m dubious, Son. Lockharts have never gone out on a venture capital limb. I don’t think I need to tell you this isn’t a good year for gambling.”
    His father spoke of Pennington Engineering, the company erecting wind turbines on the Lockhart cotton farms. Robert Pennington, the company’s owner had approached Drake a couple of years ago about partnering in a manufacturing operation and was now bringing the plan to a head. Drake hadn’t committed, but he hadn’t said no either.
    In recent years, the ranch had come to be more dependent on its investments outside the cattle business. And the responsibility to make that successful had fallen on Drake. Shepherding the family’s wealth was different from risking his own. He’d had to learn to juggle between it and the edgier business his own company engaged in. Ironically, at this point in the Lockharts’ long history in Texas agriculture, it might very well be Drake’s business acumen and honed negotiating skills that saved the ranch.
    “I understand, Dad. I don’t know all I need to yet. What I do know is that wind energy has support. And a manufacturing plant in that part of the state would mean a lot to the local people.”
    “So what?” Dad said. “You into social engineering now? Not a damn one of those green energy companies has come up with anything that’ll get a Boeing 747 off the ground. And until they do, I’m not impressed. This family’s gonna just keep pumping oil as long as they’ll let us.”
    During his week-long visit, Drake had had a year-end meeting with his whole family. The Double-Barrel was a family corporation and they got together several times a year to discuss the state of the ranch and plan for the future. He always had positive news to report at the year-end meeting, but this year, the atmosphere had been grim. The ranch wasn’t falling apart yet, but Mother Nature had not been kind. Everybody had to tighten his belt in the coming year. Or years.
    “You don’t have to worry,” Drake said. “I’m not going to do anything that’ll sink the ship.”
    “I know that, Son. I’m just reminding you I don’t like those damn windmills. They’re killing high-flying birds. A balls-out effort has been made to save the eagles and now they’re getting killed flying into windmills. Besides that, every time I turn on the news, I hear that another one’s gone broke. But I do like those energy company leases.”
    “I say just keep leasing the land,” Pic put in. “Let somebody else take the risk of building the windmill engines.”
    Drake tamped down his annoyance. Often these days, he found his vision of the future in conflict with that of his father and brother. He had confidence in his own judgment. He always had, even when he was younger. No matter what might be going on in the economy in general, he had never feared risk, had always had an expectation of success. Most of his gambles had been spot-on and profitable.
    As for the windmills, as far as Drake was concerned, the jury was still out on large-scale green energy production. Though he hadn’t seen much success or profit in it so far, he wasn’t