Leadville Read online

  I walked over to the grizzly and shot him in the head.

  “I don’t think that was necessary,” McAllen said from behind me. “That animal was already dead.”

  McAllen and Sharp stood behind me, rifles at the ready.

  “Yep,” Sharp added. “Don’t look like ya keep birdshot loads in your shotgun.”

  I started to laugh but instead collapsed to the ground, with my leg muscles shaking like loose shingles in a northeaster. Dooley came running up and immediately knelt beside me.

  “Gawd, you’re a mess.” This was not my desired prognosis from a doctor. After a few minutes of inspection, Dooley used his handkerchief to wipe the front of my coat. He showed me the handkerchief. “This ain’t your blood, except on the arm. Lucky you had this sheepskin coat on. You only got deep scratches.”

  “Check my heart. It might be dislocated. I think I feel it in my throat.”

  “You’re lucky,” McAllen said. “I’ve seen what a grizzly can do to a man.”

  I lifted my uninjured arm. “Give me a lift up, Doc.” When I regained my footing, I said, “Luck had nothing to do with it. Chestnut saved my life.” I walked over to my horse and laid my head on his left side, wrapping both arms around his neck. This time I made more than a fleeting embrace. After a moment, I pulled the reins slightly until his head was even with mine. I looked Chestnut in the eye and said, “Thank you.”

  When I turned, my three friends were watching me. Sharp pointed at the bear. “Ya want the head?”

  “The head?” Then I got his meaning. “Nope. You want it, you take it. I’ll see that grizzly’s head every time I close my eyes. I don’t need to see it when they’re open.”

  Leading Chestnut gently by the reins, I started to walk back toward the campfire. “Jeff, I hope that coffee’s ready. I sure could use a cup.”

  Chapter 21

  We rode into Leadville in the late afternoon of the fourth day. The surrounding Rocky Mountains inspired awe and humility. The thin air, at over ten thousand feet, lent a hand to the breathtaking grandeur. High peaks hemmed us in from every side, cropping out much of the expansive blue sky that I had come to expect in the West. In fact, the mountains loomed so large over us that I felt Lilliputian.

  We had left McAllen in a foul mood at the hotel in Twin Lakes, which was over an hour’s ride outside of Leadville. We promised the impatient captain that we would meet him for dinner the following night at the Inter-Laken. McAllen would not be a congenial guest, and I had more than a little sympathy for the unfortunate staff that would have to deal with him.

  Leadville was a substantial, though crude, town. Two- and three-story brick buildings lined intersecting streets, and construction on every block confirmed the explosion in mine operations. The building frenzy wasn’t the hasty clapboard variety that I had encountered in other mining settlements, but instead the materials of choice seemed to be brick and mortar. I presumed the winters at this altitude called for solid protection against the elements. It was only early October, but the wind already made the autumn chill cut right through our heavy layers of clothing.

  After several days tensing against the numbing cold, I longed for a fireplace, a glass of good whiskey, a hot bath, and a warm meal. “What’s the best hotel?” I asked Sharp.

  “I think the Tabor Grand is still under construction, but we’ll give it a try. Otherwise, our best bet is the Carbonate. I just hope we can get a room … anywhere.”

  I hoped so, too. People milled everywhere, and many had the prosperous look that probably meant the best hotels were full. The front of the Tabor was choked with wagons hauling bricks and other construction materials. Without discussion, Dr. Dooley and I followed Sharp further down the street until we pulled up in front of the Carbonate Hotel. After I hitched Chestnut, I inspected the hotel. The rather plain three-story, square brick structure had a sidewalk in front so narrow it wouldn’t even accommodate a chair. Most of the hotels in the West had a porch or balcony. An involuntary shiver reminded me why this hotel had been built for indoor living.

  The nondescript exterior hid a lavish interior. The handsome décor’s heavy masculine flavor reminded me of my father’s club in New York. The large lobby bustled with self-important men and a few expensively dressed women. My heart sank. The hotel looked busy, and I doubted they had any rooms.

  At the reception desk, two hotel employees were arguing in low tones with a dapper man in his fifties. I eased over to the counter to overhear the discussion.

  “Mr. Brannan, must I remind you that you agreed to our terms in advance. I made it clear that your deposit for these rooms would not be returned under any conditions.”

  “I’m a good customer. Would you like me to take my trade elsewhere?”

  “I appreciate your patronage, Mr. Brannan, but we have many good customers waiting for rooms, customers we turned away because of our commitment to you. Now you wish to renege on your side of the commitment.”

  “You’re going to resell the rooms. At a higher price, I might add. I’m doing you a favor by releasing the rooms.”

  I leaned against the counter and tapped Mr. Brannan’s forearm to get his attention. “How many rooms do you have?” I asked.

  The hotel manager answered in a firm voice. “The reservation is not transferable.”

  I slid a single eagle under my palm toward the manager. “May I speak to Mr. Brannan alone for a moment?” I lifted my hand so he could see the coin.

  The manager casually reached out his hand, and I withdrew mine in an easy motion so he could cover the gold coin with his palm. “Of course,” he said, as he made a come with me motion to the other hotel employee.

  I took Mr. Brennan by the elbow and led him out of earshot. “How many rooms do you have reserved?”

  “Four, but they’ll cost you. Rooms are going at a premium.”

  “How long do you have them for?”

  “Ten days. I reserved them for investors from Chicago, but they pulled out.”

  “What kind of investors?”

  “The rich kind.”

  This man was beginning to irritate me as much as he had the hotel manager, but I wanted the rooms. “Are you selling an interest in a mine?”

  “I’m a broker for a number of ventures,” he said pompously.

  “Mining ventures?” I let irritation creep into my tone.

  “Of course, why else would anyone come to Leadville? Certainly not for the climate.”

  “Exactly. That’s why my companions and I are here. We want to look at mines for investment.” I pointed out Sharp and Dooley. All three of us were crusted with trail dirt and looked pretty raggedy. My unshaven face and ripped, bloodstained coat from the bear incident probably didn’t project the right image to this dandy.

  With a condescending expression, he said, “Sure, I’m supposed to believe that and give you the rooms. No dice. You pay my price for the rooms or sleep in your damn bedrolls.”

  “Did you see what I passed the hotel manager so I could talk to you?” I didn’t wait for a reply. “A single eagle.” I paused for that to sink in. “We have the means.” I pointed at Sharp. “That man may not look like it at the moment, but he’s the largest mine operator in Nevada. We look like this because we just rode up from Durango, where we saw a lot of mines but didn’t see anything we wanted to buy.” I paused again. “So, do you have anything that might interest us?”

  I didn’t like the look on his face. He actually looked scared. Then I realized I had made a mistake by bragging about Sharp’s knowledge of mines. Brannan was a swindler, not a legitimate broker. He wanted investors who knew nothing about mining. The Chicago boys probably pulled out after someone whispered in their ear that Brannan wasn’t reliable.

  After a moment, he said, “I got something you’re interested in: four rooms in the best hotel in Leadville. If you want them, pay me three hundred dollars, right now. All four rooms for ten nights.”

  I did and he settled his remaining tariff with the ho
tel manager for what I assumed was a heady profit.

  It cost me another single eagle to get the hotel manager to pretend that we were Brannan’s investors. At first, three hundred and twenty dollars seemed an outrageous toll, but then I thought that maybe it was a reasonable fee to get rid of that pest Brannan. Three hours later, I was sure. Our rooms, though not large, were well appointed. In short order, we were fed, clean, and warm. Doc soon excused himself to retire early to a warm soft bed, but Sharp and I went to the lobby for a drink. As we settled in front of a roaring fireplace in comfortable chairs, sipping an excellent Scotch whiskey, I suddenly realized I was very tired and looked forward to a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed.

  “How do ya suppose we go about findin’ Vrable?” Sharp asked.

  “Ask, I guess.” I looked around the lobby. “Stupid of me. I should have asked that Brannan character. He probably knows all the shysters on this mountain.”

  Sharp winced before saying, “If he’s known here, it’s probably as Bob Grant.”

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Toothache. Gettin’ worse.” He rubbed the side of his face. “I better get it pulled.”

  “Doc Dooley?”

  “Doc don’t do teeth, but he might know a good barber or dentist. Maybe tomorrow.”

  I lifted my whiskey glass. “I’d sure like to climb into a warm bed after another one of these, but I guess we better make a few inquires before we call it a night.”

  “I wonder if the Wells Fargo office is still open,” Sharp mused. He swallowed the last of his drink and threw himself out of his chair. “Let’s go find out.”

  Chapter 22

  Although the sun had slid below the mountain peaks, the Wells Fargo office was not only open but would stay open for another hour to provide service to miners who conducted business at the end of the day. As we entered the spacious office, it felt good to step into warmth again. In Leadville, autumn days were cold, but once the sun slid behind the mountains, a wintry chill took over that made breathing painful.

  Sharp sauntered up to the counter and casually asked, “Is Bob Grant available?”

  A clerkish man flipped a glance and a thumb at a large man in a brown suit who was seated at a cluttered desk facing the counter.

  The big man lifted his head from his papers. “How can I help you?”

  Now what? We had never talked about actually finding Grant sitting nonchalantly at a desk in the Wells Fargo office.

  Sharp jumped right in. “Do ya remember us? We donated funds to outfit yer posse in Durango.”

  Grant stood and walked over to the counter. “Sad turn of events, I’m afraid, but the donations were used to put a large group of men on her trail.” He spread his arms out wide. “I have none of that money. If there is any left, you’ll find it in Durango, not here.”

  “Forget the money. We have a friend who wants to meet ya,” Sharp answered.

  Not knowing what to expect, I slid my hand off the counter and let it hang beside my gun.

  Grant just gave us a broad smile. “And who might that be?”

  “Joseph McAllen.”

  Not even a flinch in the friendly smile. “I’ve been waiting for him to call. I’m surprised he sent you boys instead of coming himself.” His expression turned sympathetic. “The news about his daughter must have been hard on him.”

  “You knew Maggie was his daughter?” I blurted.

  “Of course. Everyone in Durango knew.”

  Sharp glanced at the clerk, who seemed interested in the conversation. “Mr. Grant, I didn’t expect ya to welcome news that the captain was lookin’ for ya.”

  “That’s because you don’t know the full circumstances.”

  Sharp pushed further. “He says he knows ya by a different name.”

  Grant smiled again. “Many things are not as they seem.”

  “Excuse me, but—”

  Grant cut me off. “This is far too sensitive to discuss here. Tell the captain he has my condolences, and I want to meet with him as well.” His expression had changed to sincere compassion.

  “When?” Sharp asked firmly.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “The Carbonate.”

  “A fine choice. I’ll meet the captain for breakfast in the dining room. Say seven?”

  “I’m afraid McAllen hasn’t arrived yet,” Sharp said. “He sent us on ahead, but he might arrive by dinner tomorrow night.”

  Grant looked disappointed. “Tomorrow for dinner then. Would you tell the captain he needs to hear what I have to say? It’ll change his understanding of events.” He paused and then smiled again, but somehow it didn’t come across as friendly this time. “Tell him that his family is still in danger. Everything, and I mean everything, can be set right if we come to a proper understanding.”

  I started to object to the threat, but Sharp raised his hand. “We’ll see ya tomorrow night at eight. The Carbonate dining room.”

  “I’m sorry, perhaps you misunderstood. I’ll see the captain alone … or not at all.”

  “That’ll be McAllen’s decision,” Sharp snapped. “Unless ya want to meet him under different circumstances.” Sharp paused dramatically. “I might add, he’s in a foul mood.”

  Again, no flinch. “I’m afraid we forgot introductions. Who might you be?”

  “Friends of McAllen.”

  “I see.” Grant looked at the clerk, who had been closely following the conversation. “If you’ll excuse us. This is a security matter I cannot discuss in front of you.” The man walked a discreet distance away, but Grant still leaned over the counter until his mouth was beside Sharp’s ear. “Tell the captain that if he wants to see his family whole again, he’ll see me tomorrow night—alone. Understood?” The smile had vanished.

  “No,” Sharp said in a normal voice the clerk could easily overhear. “McAllen hasn’t got any family. What are ya talkin’ about?”

  Grant pushed himself away from the counter. “Just tell him what I said.” Then he turned and disappeared into a back room.

  We left the office and stepped into a frigid breeze. Without pause, Sharp marched to our hotel, which I appreciated. I would rather talk about this incident in front of a big fire. The bitter cold made me shiver, and I hooked the top button of my coat and raised the sheepskin collar. Hopefully, our chairs beside the fire remained unoccupied.

  When we arrived back at the Carbonate, the seats by the fireplace were taken, but we found two easy chairs in an alcove that actually provided more privacy.

  After we had whiskey glasses in hand, I asked, “What do you think Grant meant?”

  “Been thinkin’ on that.” Sharp took a sip and then a large swallow of the whiskey. “I’m not positive, but I think he was hintin’ that McAllen’s daughter is still alive.”

  Chapter 23

  Early the next morning—with only coffee to sustain us—we rode out to Twin Lakes. Sharp, a man who never complained, grumbled the entire twenty miles about his toothache.

  The Inter-Laken appeared rustic on the outside, but the lobby furnishings said that the hotel catered to wealthy patrons looking for a romantic interlude. Since it was still early, Sharp peeked into the restaurant before going to the registration desk. Sure enough, McAllen sat at a table by himself, looking as grumpy as when we had left him.

  “What are you men doing here?” McAllen looked surprised as we slid into the extra chairs at his table.

  “We missed yer cheerful company,” Sharp said. “How’s breakfast here?”

  “Expensive. Did you find Vrable?”

  “We found Grant, big as life, sitting comfortable as you please at a big desk in the Wells Fargo office.”

  McAllen started to get up. “Tell me on the trail.”

  “Joseph, we need to eat, and we already set up a meet for tonight. Lots of time.” Sharp unsuccessfully tried to signal a waitress to come over. “Let’s talk a bit before ya ride off in a snit.”

  McAllen looked ready to
bolt, but he settled back into his chair. “What time tonight?”

  “Can we—”

  McAllen cut off Sharp. “No.”

  Sharp sighed theatrically. “Eight o’clock at the Carbonate. Grant insists on meeting you alone … for dinner.”

  “Dinner?” McAllen mulled that over. “Obviously there’s more if you left Leadville without a meal.”

  “There is,” I answered. “But we’re not sure what it means. We got here early so we could talk it over.”

  “Then let’s get breakfast ordered for you men.” McAllen tapped his coffee mug with a table knife until he had the attention of a waitress, and then with a curt gesture, commanded her to come over to our table. As soon as she arrived, McAllen ordered gruffly, “Coffee immediately. Then get two orders of chops and eggs for these gentlemen. Move quickly if you want a gratuity.”

  After she scurried away, McAllen said, “All right, you have your meal on the way. Tell me exactly what happened and what he said.”

  Sharp told about our encounter with Grant, while I filled in a few details that he forgot to mention. Neither of us offered any speculation about what it all meant. As we had previously agreed, McAllen should be allowed to draw his own conclusions.

  McAllen didn’t hesitate when we were done. “So Vrable kidnapped my daughter and merely pretended that she had been murdered by Utes. Probably matted an old scalp with fresh blood from an animal.”

  “That’s what we concluded,” I said. “But why?”

  “He wants something from me,” McAllen said, as if he already knew what Vrable wanted.

  “Something more than revenge?” I asked.

  “He wants that too, but first he’ll force me to help him steal a silver shipment. Then Bane will kill my daughter.”

  “Ya think Bane’s got her?” Sharp asked.

  “The two of ’em cooked this up. Bane’s got her.”