Their fears weren’t justified. The president of The First Mining Bank of Denver, Peter Wardley, welcomed them as new depositors in his bank.
The next day after the bank had assayed their gold and deposited ninety-five thousand dollars into their account, they showed up in Mr. Wardley’s office.
Sonny cut right to the chase.
“Mr. Wardley, we want to invest in mining stocks in the San Francisco Exchange.”
Wardley looked at the young faces seated on the other side of his desk. He had no illusions. They hadn’t fooled him. He had guessed correctly that they were sixteen years old, seventeen at the most.
One of the first things that he had learned when he came out to Denver was don’t judge a man on his appearance. Clothes may make the man back East but they didn’t amount to a hill of beans out here. Another thing he had learned in this harsh land was that people grew up quickly. Many times it was grow up quickly or die. His judgment about the youngsters across from him was that these kids had grown up quickly.
His first reaction was to lecture them on the dangers of speculative stock trading. He resisted the urge. Instead he said, "How can I help you?”
Sonny said, "We want you or your bank to act as our agent and invest our money for us. We want to buy fifty thousand shares of Falling Rock Mine at fifty cents a share.”
Wardley didn’t say a word. He got up, walked around his desk and opened the door. He said to a man behind one of the desks outside his office “Barrett, give me a copy of our stock purchase agreement, please.”
Three weeks later they were back in Wardley’s office. Sonny came straight to the point.
“Mr. Wardley, please sell all of our shares in Falling Rock Mine at market and deposit the proceeds in our account.”
Wardley had been expecting them. Out of curiosity, he had researched the Falling Rock Mine and had been following the share price. The share price of the mine was not atypical of the volatile San Francisco gold mine stock market. The stock had been as high as three hundred twenty dollars a share and had fallen as low as thirty cents a share. Just as quickly as it had fallen, it had turned around in the last week and was now selling at five hundred sixty dollars a share.
Wardley put in the sell order. When all the shares were sold, they sold for an average price of six hundred twenty dollars a share. This gave a total of thirty-one million dollars. Wardley was astounded.
It hadn’t surprised him that four young people had appeared out of nowhere with ninety-five thousand dollars in gold. This was a big country. People appeared out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly. As far as the gold went, he dealt with miners every day and he knew that fortunes were being made.
It was unusual that they were so young but in this land Wardley had seen and heard of stranger things. There was something special about these youngsters. He couldn’t put his finger on it but there was something there.
He liked them the moment he met them. They had a close camaraderie and an easy, relaxed, likeable manner about them. Wardley had no illusions. He knew for them to survive long enough in this harsh land, to mine ninety-five thousand dollars in gold, they had to be tough.
They had placed the sell order that morning and were now back in Wardley’s office. Wardley handed Sonny a telegram from Wardley’s agent in San Francisco. It had the results of the morning’s sell order.
Sonny didn’t say a word. His face was impassive. Without a word, he passed the telegram to Beth, who passed it to Anne. Anne pursed her lips together, cocked her head slightly raised an eyebrow and blew air in a silent whistle through her lips. She then passed the telegram to Jack.
Wardley looked at each one of them. He had expected more of a reaction. There was nothing, just a long silence that was becoming awkward.
All of a sudden Sonny leapt to his feet, put both arms straight up above his head and let out an earsplitting war whoop. Then all four of them were on their feet screaming, hollering, hugging each other and jumping up and down.
Barrett, the clerk in the outer office opened Wardley’s office door and stuck his head inside. Wardley waved him off.
As quickly as the celebration had begun, it ended. All four sat back down as if nothing had happened.
Sonny began to say something. Jack let out a loud whoop and shook his head rapidly, his jaw slack. A wavering unintelligible sound came out of his mouth.
He stopped, looked around with an embarrassed look on his face and said, “Sorry”.
Sonny gave him a reproving look and began again.
“We would like to place two more purchase orders, please.”
Without a word, Wardley got up and walked to the door. He asked Barrett for a stock purchase agreement form and returned to his desk.
Sonny filled the form out. This time he placed orders in two different mining stocks for one hundred thousand shares each.
They were to spend two more months in Denver. During that time, Wardley had them over to his house every Wednesday for dinner.
They met his wife, Helen, and their three small children. As part of the dinner conversations, Helen asked them how they had come to the West and to this part of the country.
They gave an abbreviated story of living with the Cheyenne. They left out the parts about the shooting of Dirty Earl and Beth killing the Crow. They told of how they had found Anne. They told, in general terms, about how lucky they had been in finding, actually stumbling on an obscure stream and finding gold.
The Wardleys were gracious hosts. A mutual fondness grew up between the Wardleys and the four teens. He became more than their banker. He became their friend.
He found out they were staying in a boarding house so he put them up in the Bradley Hotel. It was just down the street from the bank and that time was about as good a hotel as you could find in Denver.
Pete was going to take them to the Bradley. Jack and the girls had just left the office. Sonny was just ahead of Wardley when he turned and asked him for a good place to eat. Peter hesitated and then said, “Pat Muldoon’s place The Nugget. It’s a bar and gambling house and upstairs they have girls but he has the best steak west of the Mississippi. He always has an Irish stew in the pot. That’s pretty good and his Wednesday pork chops make my mouth water just thinking about them.
It’s a rough place but Pat’s an honest man and will brook no nonsense.
The restaurant is separated from the bar and games by a low wall divider and the girls who work there aren’t allowed in the dining area. Does it sound like a place you’d like to go, it being a gambling den and whorehouse and all? Do you think the young ladies would mind?”
Sonny said, “Mind! They’d love it.”
He couldn’t contain himself and ran to catch up with the others. He told them about Muldoon’s.
Anne was a little taken back that they were actually going to eat at a, it was hard for her even to think the word, whorehouse. However, she kept her mouth shut and waited to see Beth’s reaction.
Beth squealed, clapped her hands together and blurted out, “Eat at a whorehouse, a real western saloon, does it get any better than this!?”
There were two short lines of people at the two opened teller windows. At Beth’s outburst they all turned and stared at her.
Beth regained her composure and smiled weakly back at them.
Anne gave Jack a quick look and saw that he was happier than a pig eating slop. So Anne put on her happy face and said with more enthusiasm than she felt, “Let’s go eat lunch there.”
Peter had now caught up with them and said, “It’s just two blocks away. Let me buy you lunch and I’ll introduce you to Pat.”
It was a mild August day in the mid-eighties. The large frame windows at The Nugget were open and the two large framed glass door were propped open to let in the air.
The saloon was large. The bar was mahogany and at least one hundred feet long. In the middle of the wall behind the bar was a long mirror that ran the length of the bar. Above and in the center above t
he mirror was a large elk head. The back of the saloon was for gambling. There were half a dozen faro tables, a wheel of fortune and several baize covered tables for poker. In the center rear of the gaming tables was an enormous stuffed grizzly bear wearing a silk top hat. He was on his hind feet, his mouth opened in a snarl, his front legs extended and claws menacing.
Midway along the wall across from the bar was a semicircular stage with a piano.
To the right of the entrance at the end of the bar was the dining area, with about twenty tables. A low wooden partition running from the end of the bar to the wall separated the saloon from the dining room. There was a four foot opening in the partition, that was the entrance to the dining room. The kitchen was behind the wall of the bar. There was a serving door at the rear corner of the dining room so the waiters could bring food straight from the kitchen without passing through the salon area.
Muldoon was behind the bar and when he saw Peter he waved and greeted him with a loud “Hello Pete”.
Peter went over to the bar and shook hands.
He said, “Pat, these are some friends of mine”, he then introduced the four teenagers to Muldoon, “and we’re here for some of your famous steak. Can you join us?”
Muldoon agreed and they were soon seated at a table waiting for their steaks.
Muldoon looked at the kids sizing them up. They were all wearing heavy work clothes and were armed to the teeth. The boys wore their hair loose. It hung down past their shoulder blades. The girls wore their hair in two long braids. Pat thought if the girls’ hair were loose Beth’s would have hung down to her waist and Anne’s would hang past her butt.
Like Peter, he noted their easy, confident manner and their good nature. He liked them right away.
He and Anne began talking about Ireland. He was from Limerick and she was originally from Cork. She explained that because of the British, she had left Ireland when she was very young.
Pat nodded his head in understanding. All he said was, “The troubles.”
Anne lowered her eyes. They never spoke of Ireland again.
For the next two months they ate at least one meal a day at The Nugget and they had gotten to like and know Muldoon very well.
He was easy to get along with and he was had an endless supply of stories. He had come West in 1855 in search of his fortune. Like many who had come to this part of the country he was in search of gold. After five years of living like an animal in terrible conditions, he made a small strike worth only a few thousand dollars. In the past when he had found gold he would come to town and blow it all on booze and women. When he had confessed the women part he looked nervously at the girls and opened his mouth to apologize but Beth patted his hand, laugh and said, “Tell it all, Patty. Tell it all.”
He laughed. Gave them a wink and continued. After years of backbreaking work with nothing to show for it, he made up his mind never to return to the gold fields again. He took the money from his last strike and bought the bar.
He said, “It was the smartest thing I ever did. I eat hot meals and I sleep warm at night on clean sheets.
And the stories I could tell you.”
The good part of it was, he did tell them.
They would have eaten at Pat’s even if the food was bad. Most of the time he would sit with them, sometimes eating with them. Like most Irishmen he loved to tell a good story.
As Peter had told them Pat tolerated no nonsense at the Nugget. He had four of the biggest bouncers in Denver. One was a bartender and the other three were waiters.
Pat explained, “At first I use to throw the troublemakers out myself but I’ve gotten too old for it.”
About three weeks later, Pat and the four teens were seated at their table having supper. Their table was actually Pat’s table that he kept for himself and his friends.
They were wolfing down their meals, laughing and swapping lies when Pat looked up sharply. He was eyeing a dapper little man who had just entered the bar with two hulking thugs in tow.
Conversation stopped and the four followed Pat’s gaze. The little man was slight of build and about five feet five inches tall. He wore a bowler hat, a three-piece suit and brilliantly shined black shoes with white spats. His coat and pants of fine wool were black. A heavy gold chain with watch fob was looped across a sky blue silk brocade vest. He wore a heavily starched white shirt with canary yellow silk tie. He carried a cane with a gold lion’s head for a handle.
He was quite a sight.
The two large men that accompanied the little man, were neatly dressed in dark suits but were no match for their master’s splendor. Each of the two carried a revolver strapped to his hip.
Besides the cane the dandy didn’t appear to be armed.
Pat said with contempt in his voice, “Shamus O’Neil.”
Anne said, “Well looking at Mr. O’Neil proves once again that wealth cannot buy taste.” She then returned to attacking her steak.
Pat said, “Shamus and I came out here about the same time. Nothing good ever happens around Shamus O’Neil. His partners have a way of mysteriously disappearing. If he can’t jump a claim, he’ll steal it by other means.
Don’t let his size fool you. I’ve seen him beat men twice his size to a pulp. He enjoys hurting people. If he gets you on the ground, he’ll kick and stomp you. He’s a nasty one all right. But if things go against him, then his bully boys will step in. Shamus never loses.
He knows he’s not welcome here. I’ve thrown him out before.”
Pat’s eyes never left O’Neil. He said “Well, I’ve got business to attend to.” He started to get up.
O’Neil’s bodyguards headed for the bar. O’Neil walked towards their table.
Pat sat back down and waited.
O’Neil stopped in front of their table took off his hat and bowed to Beth and Anne. He said “I’m Shamus O’Neil” He gave a wicked smile to Pat and said, “but I guess you already know that.”
Anne’s eyes stayed on O’Neil like a snake with a snake charmer. When O’Neil looked at each of the teens he couldn’t meet Anne’s gaze. What he did see was pure hatred. It unnerved him. It sent a chill down his spine.
He brushed the feeling off and continued. “May I join you? I have a business proposition that I think you will like to hear.”
Sonny’s eyes were on his plate. Through all of this he had continued to eat. He said without looking up, “We’re eating.”
O’Neil gave his best smile and said, “this won’t take a minute. At least hear me out.”
Sonny intentionally stuffed a large piece of steak into his mouth and said in a muffled food eating voice, “You have nothing to say that we want to hear.” He made sloppy chewing sounds and began mopping his plate with a piece of bread.
O’Neil was livid by the insult. He composed himself and said “Does he speak for you all? Don’t let this Mick bartender” he nodded at Pat, “spread vile lies about me. I’m a business man and am here to offer you a valid business offer.”
He looked at Beth and Jack. Their expressions were flat and noncommittal. He then forced himself to look at Anne. What he saw in her eyes almost made him take a step backwards. He saw death.
She said, her Irish brogue was so thick you could cut it with a knife, “He speaks for all of us. Leave us.”
Trying to salvage his dignity, he opened his mouth to say something, wisely thought better of it. He turned on his heel and walked to the bar.
There was silence then Pat said, “You haven’t seen the last of him. You’ve insulted him. He won’t forget it.
Besides he knows what everybody else in this town knows and he wants a piece of it.”
“And what might that be?” said Jack.
Pat looked at Jack like he was a simpleton “Your gold strike, of course.” He smiled and said, “If the assayers and the bank clerks know what you’re worth then the whole town knows what you’re worth. It’s human nature. This town was built on gold. We’re obsessed with it so you know that we’
re gonna talk about it. And if someone hits it big like you have we’re gonna know about it.”
Jack said, “Hmm! Makes sense, I guess we are just naïve.”
Sonny dropped his knife and fork noisily on his plate and said “Well, let’s get it over with.”
Pat leaned over and grabbed Sonny’s forearm and said, “Try not to shoot the place up but if you do, I’ll stand with you.”
“Thanks, Pat,” said Sonny.
“Another thing you should know; Shamus has a holster sewn into the left side of his vest. He carries a small revolver there.”
Pat then said, “Let me get behind the bar before you get up to leave. I have a shotgun
there.”
Sonny nodded.
Pat got up and walked to the bar.
The four waited a minute, got up and started to walk towards the door.
The girls went first, followed by Sonny and then Jack.
As Sonny past the bar, one of Shamus’ thugs stepped away from the bar and into Jack’s path, blocking Jack from Sonny. Jack didn’t hesitate. The big man didn’t have a chance to set his feet and plant himself in front of Jack. Jack folded the fingers of his right hand and hit the big man in the throat, in the Adam’s apple. The man’s eyes bugged out and he immediately grabbed his throat, fell to his knees and then face forward on the floor. He was making choking, gurgling sounds as he fought for breath.
At the same time that Jack was being confronted, Shamus swung his cane at Sonny’s head.
Sonny was prepared. He easily disarmed Shamus and pushed him back into the bar. As the second bodyguard stepped forward towards Sonny, Sonny popped him between the eyes with the cane’s lion’s head handle. The man fell backwards to the floor without a sound.
Sonny dropped the cane, stepped back and to the side.
O’Neil was off the bar in a flash and came at Sonny again. This time with a kick to the groin.
Sonny was prepared and grabbed Shamus’ foot and jerked it up as high as he could. He lifted Shamus off his feet and slammed him down to the floor hard on his back.
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