There were a few other comments and questions most about what a “good man” Mo was, and how loyal he was to Live Oaks and the others who rode for the ranch. It was during that discussion that Big Ben began to get an idea as to what he wanted to do.
“Do any of you know the name of the orphanage Mo came from?” Big Ben asked.
“Yeah, I know,” one of the cowboys said. “It is Our Lady of Mercy. He talks about it all the time.”
“What were his feelings about it?” Big Ben asked. “Would you say they were positive or negative?”
“Oh, positive!” someone shouted, then several others threw in their own comments.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cattleman’s Bank of Fort Worth, November 24
“That is a pretty large amount of cash to be carrying around, Mr. Conyers,” C.D. Matthews said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather me issue a bank certificate for the money?”
“No, I want cash,” Big Ben said.
“Very well, I’ll have the teller make it up and bring it to you. No need for you to have to stand in line with the others.”
“Thank you,” Big Ben said.
Matthews wrote on a piece of paper, then handed it to a clerk. The clerk nodded, and took off to attend to his errand.
“I hear you are bringing in a herd of Black Angus cattle,” Matthews said.
“I am indeed. I have rid myself of every Longhorn.”
“Well, that’s going to be an interesting experiment,” Matthews said. “I’m told that, pound for pound, they are worth much more than Longhorns. What have you heard from the other ranchers for depressing the market even further for them?”
“Mostly they express interest and curiosity,” Big Ben replied. “So far there have been no examples of animosity or hostility.”
“That is good,” Matthews said. At that moment a teller arrived, carrying a bundle of money. Matthews took the money, then counted it out to Big Ben.
“I would ask if you had Christmas in mind for this money, but it isn’t even December yet, so it seems a little too early for that,” Montgomery said.
“It is not too early for the Christmas I have in mind,” Big Ben said.
Our Lady of Mercy Orphanage, Fort Worth
Sister Mary Katherine sat at her desk in Our Lady of Mercy Orphanage, going over the budget. Father Pyron of St. Patrick’s Cathedral had just given her the church’s orphanage allotment, and it didn’t look good. At present there were seventeen children in the orphanage: six girls, from infant to fourteen, and eleven boys, from three to sixteen. The sixteen-year-old would be turned out on his own when he reached seventeen, his birthday being the coming January.
From time to time the parishioners, and even the people of Fort Worth, would donate money, food, and various items to the orphanage. Thanksgiving was on the 27th, just three more days. She had wanted so, this year, to have enough money to have a big Thanksgiving Day dinner for the children, but it didn’t look as if that was going to happen. They would be lucky this Thanksgiving if they had beans and bacon.
Sister Mary Katherine was seventy-three years old. She was the Mother Superior of Our Lady of Mercy Orphanage and had been for thirty years. Before that, she was with the St. Mary’s Orphanage in Charleston, South Carolina. She had dedicated her life to serving her Lord by serving His homeless children. She had been through times that were good and times that were bad, and right now it was as bad as it had been since just after the war.
Though Sister Mary Katherine and the other sisters made life as pleasant for the children as they could, life in an institution, even a benevolent institution, could not compare with having a family. The older children did what they could for the younger ones, and already this year some of them, in order to make up for the lack of money for any Christmas gifts, were secretly making wagons, rocking-horses, and other toys.
“Mother Superior?” a nun said, sticking her head in through the open door. Had the door not been open, Sister Dominique would have never presumed to break in on the Mother Superior. She would have knocked, even though Sister Mary Katherine was not that much of a stickler for protocol.
“Yes, Sister Dominique?”
“There is a gentleman to see you.”
“Do you know what it is about?”
“I believe he wants to make a gift of some kind.”
“A gift is it? Then, by all means, do show him in,” Sister Mary Katherine said. She stood and waited for the visitor.
“Right in there, sir,” she heard Sister Dominique say.
The man who came into the office was very large, one of the biggest men she had ever seen. He filled the doorway.
“Sister ... ? Is that the proper way to address you?”
“Yes, Sister Mary Katherine, or Mother Superior. And you are?”
“Benjamin Conyers.”
“Please, Mr. Conyers, have a seat,” Sister Mary Katherine invited. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you remember a young man you had here once, named Mo Coffey?”
“Moses Coffey? Of course I remember him,” Sister Mary Katherine said. “Why, I remember vividly the night we received him. We found him lying on the front stoop, warmly wrapped on a bag that had been used for coffee. He was with us for sixteen years. A fine young man, and quite intelligent as I recall.”
“Yes, ma’am. Mo came to work for me out at Live Oaks. That’s my ranch.”
“Yes, Mo has dropped by from time to time to visit us and the children we have here now. He did tell us he was working on a ranch, and as I recall, he gave the children a demonstration with the rope. They enjoyed it so much. Please do give Mo my regards,” Sister Mary Katherine said, smiling broadly.
“I wish I could do that, ma’am, I truly do,” Big Ben said. “But the truth is, I got a telegram from my ranch foreman. Mo went to Dodge City with some of my other hands to pick up a new herd of cows. And while he was there,” Big Ben paused, not wanting to drop the news on her, but not knowing any other way to say it, just said it. “Well, I’m afraid, Sister, that Mo was killed.”
“Oh!” Sister Mary Katherine gasped. The smile left her face, and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, dear,” she said again. “I am so sorry to hear that.” She crossed herself. “God rest his soul.”
“I was sorry to hear it as well. And I thought you might want to know.”
“Yes, thank you, that was very decent of you to tell us.”
“I’m sorry I had to be the one,” Big Ben said.
“How did he get along with the others? What I mean is, did he have friends?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, he had wonderful friends,” Big Ben said. “Everyone on the ranch thought the world of him. In fact, he was my own son’s best friend.”
“I am so heartened by that. I am saddened by the news that Moses was killed, but I am cheered by the fact that he found friends and a purpose for his life.”
“Yes, ma’am, he did that, all right,” Big Ben said. “I was thinking, Sister Mary Katherine, perhaps there is something I could do for the orphanage, in memory of Mo.”
“Oh, we would be most grateful for anything that you might do.”
“I thought about a memorial or something like that, then I got to thinking, perhaps it should be more practical. Suppose I just gave you some money, and let you do what you wanted with it.”
“Oh, yes, that would be wonderful,” Sister Mary Katherine said. She looked down at the budget she had been working with. “In fact, Mr. Conyers, if it would not be too forward of me to ask, if you could find it in your heart to provide a monetary gift large enough for us to have a wonderful Thanksgiving Day dinner for our children. I’ve been trying to find a way to bring that about.”