“I certainly do; it's the cause of your leaving me.”
“Rose, I know you'll be busy during the next few days—me dying, the things that have to be arranged, the funeral and all that. But when it's all over, you'll let that be the first thing, won't you?”
“Yes, the very first thing, if you wish it.”
“I do. Get Dr. Hurton on the job at once, and have him fight it. He knows his business. Let him come twice a day until he's sure it's out of the herd. Keep that new bull out of the pasture. And if Hurton can't clean it up, you'd better get rid of the herd before it gets known around the country. You know how news of that kind travels. Don't try to handle the sale yourself. If you do, it'll be a mistake. The prices will be low if you get only a county crowd.”
“Neighbors usually bid low,” she agreed.
“Run up to Topeka and see Baker—he's the sales manager of the Holstein Breeders' Association. Let him take charge of it all—he's a straight fellow. He'll charge you enough—fifteen per cent of the gross receipts, but then he'll see to it that the people who want good stuff will be there. He knows how and where to advertise. He's got a big list of names, and can send out letters to the people that count. He'll bring buyers from Iowa down to Texas. Remember his name—Baker.”
“Yes, Martin—Baker.”
“I think you ought to sell the herd anyway,” he went on. “I know you, Rose; you'll be careless about the papers—no woman ever realizes how important it is to have the facts for the certificates of registry and transfer just right. I'm afraid you'll fall down there and get the records mixed. You won't get the dates exact and the name and number of each dam and sire. Women are all alike there—they never seem to realize that a purebred without papers is just a good grade.”
Rose made no comment, while Martin changed his position slowly and lost himself in thought.
“Yes, I guess it's the only thing to do—to get rid of the purebred stuff. God Almighty! It's taken me long enough to build up that herd, but a few weeks from now they'll be scattered to the four winds. Well, it can't be helped. Try to sell them to men who understand something of their value. And that reminds me, Rose. You always speak of them as thoroughbreds. It always did get on my nerves. That's right for horses, but try to remember that cows are purebreds. You'll make that mistake before men who know. Those little things are important. Remember it, won't you?”