Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 29 Holliston Town

At 4:30 a.m., the mother got up to prepare breakfast for the three of them.

Fifteen minutes later, the father and Larry also got up.

People at that time did not have a nightlife, and people in the countryside did not read by candlelight, so they generally went to bed early and got up early.

After washing up and having a simple breakfast, Larry returned to his cabin and prepared the dollars and pistol.

At 5:15 a.m., the private horse-drawn carriage that my father had hired arrived.

The small carriage was pulled by two horses, and because it was dark, Larry couldn't see the horses' coat colors at all.

At the front of the carriage, there were two lanterns extending from the carriage, which could vaguely illuminate the road ahead.

The Larry family got into the carriage, the coachman gave a shout, and the carriage began to bump along the rammed earth and gravel road.

After about twenty-five minutes, the carriage stopped in front of Boston Central Station, and the father took out $1.5 to settle the fare.

The three of them entered the train station square in the dark and followed the gas lamps along the way to the waiting hall.

Larry looked at the small square of the train station and suddenly noticed a police post with a policeman in a gray uniform inside.

Interesting! There are actually police officers on duty at train stations in America in this era!

Boston Central Station has beautiful spires and intricate sculptural decorations, but unfortunately, these are not visible at night. Inside the waiting hall, the bright orange gaslights provided slightly better visibility. Larry then noticed that his father also had a briefcase slung across his shoulder, one hand constantly pressing down on it, as if afraid it might disappear in the blink of an eye.

They were catching the first train of the morning, which departed at 6:18 a.m.

Holliston is about 28.3 miles (45.5 kilometers) from Boston, which would take about 1 hour and 35 minutes by steam train back then.

The father had already bought the train tickets, and when it came time to check the tickets, he handed them to Larry and his mother.

The mother looked down at the $2 train ticket, frowned deeply, but said nothing.

At 6:05, everyone waited on the platform, watching the locomotive, belching white steam, slowly pull into the station, its whistle deafening.

Faced with this scene, Larry suddenly had a strange feeling, as if he was about to enter the magical world of Hogwarts, and the train waiting in front of him was the famous magical train.

Steam trains are really something else. Larry thought about all the movies and novels with similar backgrounds he had seen in his previous life, and he found them very magical.

But when Larry was actually there, especially sitting in a second-class carriage, smelling all sorts of awful odors, enduring the cramped space of the narrow seats, and feeling the pungent smell of burning coal coming from the direction of the locomotive, he suddenly felt that his filter of steampunk had shattered.

However, according to my father, the second-class carriage they were in was not bad; if they had gone to the third-class carriage, it would have been a nightmare.

The mother couldn't help but ask, "How much is the ticket price for a third-class carriage?"
The father replied that each ticket was 50 cents cheaper.

The mother opened her mouth, as if to say something, but after looking at the father's face, she didn't say anything.

Larry fell silent, pondering how he could legitimately use his profits to supplement his family's income.

I don't want my mother to suffer like this anymore because of money.

At 8:05 a.m., the train pulled into the Holliston town train station. By then, it was already bright daylight, but the sun was not visible because thick, dark clouds were rolling in from the east.

The father looked up at the sky and muttered, "Please, please don't let it snow! We need to get back for Christmas."

The three hired a carriage again, and after nearly an hour's journey, they arrived at a place called Oak Valley.

The farmer was already waiting at the farm gate. The father jumped down from the carriage and raised his hat in salute to the farmer. In accordance with the local custom, the farmer offered fruit wine to Larry and his family.

Once Larry arrived at the farm, he finally had time to really take a look at the small farm.

This farmland is located on the north side of a tributary of the Charles River, backed by Oak Valley. The farm has about 0.5 miles of riverbank, making irrigation very easy. To the north of the farm are low hills covered with mixed forests, and Oak Valley is lush with oak trees.

Near the road on the farm, there are several white-painted wooden houses with sloping roofs, stone chimneys, and porches facing the farm entrance. Besides these, there is a tall barn and a livestock shed; from Larry's current vantage point, several horses are seen chewing hay inside.

Of course, the most important thing is the farmland! The soil here is black calcareous soil formed by river alluvium, making it very fertile. Even Larry, with his layman's eye, could see that the farm's land resources were quite good.

Real estate agents, the town's lawyer, and the clerk/notary were already waiting at the estate. Since my father had already negotiated most of the purchase details with the ranch owner, today's main task was to go through the purchase procedures.

Once both parties were seated, they began to formally finalize the contract for the farmland transaction.

The farmer first took stock of the farm's assets: 28.45 acres of arable land, 5.6 acres of hillside pasture and meadow in the northern part of the farm that can be used for grazing, and 8 acres of family vegetable and fruit garden land near the main house area.

The total area is 42.05 acres.

Larry did the math in his head and figured it was about 17.02 hectares of land, or 255 acres.

According to the previously agreed agreement, the farmhouse, farm tools, and related items, as well as the four draft horses, will be included in the land price at a discounted rate, without additional charges.

Therefore, the actual amount the father needed to pay was $80 multiplied by 42.05 acres, totaling $3364.

If you add the 3% deed tax, 0.05% stamp duty, $5 notary fee, and other miscellaneous fees, the total price is $3468.25.

In addition, the rancher paid the lawyer's fees, while Larry's father covered the $50 fee for the real estate agent.

After both the buyer and seller verified that everything was correct, the lawyer began drafting the sales contract.

While waiting for the lawyer to draft the contract, the real estate agent pulled Larry's father aside and pointed to a large expanse of wasteland covered with mixed forests and shrubs at the far end of the farm, saying,

"Sir, I didn't mention it to you last time, but this land is also for sale. It's right next to the Oak Valley creek, making irrigation convenient, and the woodland is extensive. The trees and other produce from the land are also included in the sale. Are you interested?"

The father squinted at the land, then turned and asked, "Why didn't you tell me last time how big this land is?"

The real estate agent pulled out a notebook, glanced at it, and replied, "83 acres. Because it's undeveloped land, the price is very cheap, about $30 per acre. I didn't tell you last time because a client also happened to be interested in this land. If I had told you, it would have been unfair to you if they had reserved it."

The father frowned and hesitated, saying, "Wasteland... the cost of clearing it is very high. Besides, I don't have any extra money to pay for it."

“But it’s cheap, sir. Only $30 per acre! To be honest, this land is protected under the Land Price Declining Act of 1854, so it hasn’t been sold for over 30 years. However, the Duncan family, who currently own the land, are taking stock of their assets and are determined to liquidate this plot. I suggest you seriously consider this land, because it’s said that a new railroad is going to be built from Boston to Niagara Falls on the US-Canada border, passing right through here. And this land…”

The real estate agent pointed to the wasteland and said, "...it's very likely to be chosen as one of the railway routes."

"Let's not talk about the unfounded railway; I remember the area was all sandy soil," the father said, stroking his chin.

"But it's cheap! Sir, you can make enough money to clear the land by selling the trees," the broker persuaded again.

Larry's father was somewhat tempted, but after considering their already depleted savings, he shook his head.

Larry, who was following behind them, lit up when he heard this.

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(End of this chapter)