Building a Conglomerate in Another World

March 23rd, 1881.

The geography of this world mirrored the one Matthew had known in his previous life. This was something he had confirmed after months of careful research and information gathering. West Tejas, as it was called here, was no different from the West Texas he once studied extensively. And within that expanse lay the Permian Basin—a region renowned for its vast, untapped reserves of crude oil.

Matthew was confident in his knowledge; the oil-rich basin had been one of the most productive in his previous world. The challenge, however, was convincing people in this new world to believe in something they had yet to discover.

The train rattled and swayed as it cut through the vast, arid landscape of West Tejas. Matthew Hesh sat by the window, gazing out at the seemingly endless stretch of dusty plains dotted with scraggly bushes and the occasional wind-worn rock formations. The heat was palpable even inside the train car, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

Compared to the bustling, developed cities of Sylvania and Amsterdam, West Tejas was like stepping into a different era. The region was still in its infancy when it came to infrastructure; there were no paved streets, no towering buildings, only small clusters of wooden shacks and tents that served as makeshift shops and saloons.

"Almost there," Dalton's voice came from behind Matthew. The grizzled head of Dalton & Co. Oil Exploration leaned against the doorway of the compartment, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. Behind him, his men were chatting, playing cards, and occasionally checking their equipment.

"It's hot as the devil's kitchen here," one of the workers muttered as he adjusted his hat to shield his eyes from the harsh sunlight streaming through the train windows.

Matthew nodded, but his focus remained on the terrain outside. The sight only reinforced his resolve. He knew that beneath this harsh, desolate land lay the treasure he was seeking.

The conductor's voice suddenly echoed through the car: "West Tejas Station! We have arrived at West Tejas Station!"

The train began to slow, the squeal of metal grinding against metal filling the air as it pulled into the makeshift station. The platform was a simple wooden structure, and beyond it lay the dusty streets of the town. As the train came to a halt, Dalton's men began unloading the drilling equipment. 

They moved quickly, knowing that the scorching sun would only get hotter as the day wore on. Stepping off the train, he was hit by a wave of heat that made him squint against the brightness of the sun. Sweat instantly began to bead on his brow as he surveyed the small, bustling crowd gathered at the station.

The people here were rough-looking, most of them dressed in worn clothes that had clearly seen better days. Cowboys, miners, and a few merchants mingled, their eyes occasionally flicking toward Matthew and his crew with curiosity. 

"Welcome to West Tejas," Dalton said, coming up beside Matthew and shielding his eyes with one hand as he looked around. "This place may not look like much, but if there's oil where you say there is, it will see better days."

Matthew nodded. "We need to secure transport to the drilling site immediately. The sooner we get started, the better."

Dalton turned and barked orders to his men. "You heard the man! Get those wagons loaded! We're moving out in an hour!"

Matthew took a deep breath, the hot, dusty air filling his lungs. This was it—the moment he had been preparing for. The gamble he had made with Fitzwilliam, the loan he had taken, the partnership with Dalton & Co.—it all came down to this. If they struck oil, he would change the course of this world's industrial landscape. If they failed... well, that wasn't an option he was willing to consider.

As the equipment was loaded onto wagons and the men prepared for the journey. 

Matthew climbed up onto one of the wagons, gripping the sun-scorched wooden edge as the vehicle creaked under his weight. The heat was relentless, waves of it shimmering off the dusty ground, and he could feel it radiating through the soles of his boots. The makeshift convoy was almost ready to set off; Dalton's men worked swiftly, securing barrels, crates, and drilling equipment to the wagons.

From his vantage point, Matthew could see the entire town of West Tejas spread out before him—if it could even be called a town. The place was more of an outpost, a collection of weather-beaten shacks, a few scattered saloons, and hastily assembled trading posts. The townsfolk looked worn down by the harsh climate, their skin tanned and cracked from years under the blazing sun.

"All set, boss!" one of Dalton's crew hollered, giving a thumbs-up. Dalton, who was checking the harnesses on the lead horses, turned to Matthew and nodded.

"We're good to go," Dalton called up to him. "The site you mentioned is about a four-hour ride from here. Hope you've got plenty of water packed, because this heat will drain you faster than you can blink."

Matthew nodded. "Let's not waste any more daylight," he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I want us drilling before the sun sets."

With a sharp crack of the reins, the wagons lurched forward, the horses snorting as they pulled their heavy loads through the thick, sun-baked dust. The convoy slowly made its way out of the town, heading west toward the isolated stretch of land where Matthew was betting everything on his knowledge of this world's hidden resources.

Four Hours Later

The journey was grueling, the sun beating down mercilessly as they made their way across the barren landscape. Dalton's men rode in silence, conserving their energy in the oppressive heat.

Finally, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting an orange glow across the desert plains, they arrived at the location Matthew had pinpointed. It was an unremarkable patch of land—dry, cracked earth as far as the eye could see, with sparse patches of scrub brush and the occasional skeletal remains of long-dead trees.

"Alright, men," Dalton called out, dismounting his horse and clapping his hands. "This is where we set up camp! Get the drills and the derricks unloaded! We're burning daylight!"

The men sprang into action, unloading the wagons and setting up the drilling rig. While the others are setting up a makeshift shack for them to rest in the evening later.

Dalton walked over to Matthew, wiping sweat from his brow with a dirty rag. "This is your first time seeing an operation like this up close?"

Matthew shook his head. "I've read plenty, but this is my first hands-on venture. I'm confident in the location. The Permian Basin—uh, I mean, this basin—is rich with oil. We just need to dig deep enough."

Dalton gave him a long, scrutinizing look. "You've got some fire in you, Hesh. I just hope that fire leads us to oil and not a dry hole."

Matthew nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "We'll find it," he said, more to himself than to Dalton.