1878 Pueblo, Colorado—Daniel
Horses crammed, flank to flank, along the hitching rail in front of the square, three-story brick St. James Hotel. Daniel rode past the crowded rail and dismounted next door at the haberdashery. He racked his mount then set a gentle hand on Rambler’s withers as he surveyed the crowded street.
The equine flesh was warm and comforting to the touch and seemed to seep into crevices of his soul that longed for peace and comfort. The kind of peace that would come from having Amber at his side and a mother for Noah.
Until recently, he hadn’t realized how important that was to his son.
Until recently, he hadn’t realized how important it was to have a loving woman in his life again, either.
Hell, until recently he’d been so entangled with the business of the railroad that he’d been blind to the needs of father and son.
And that had to end.
The clang of a distant train engine, the hiss and roar of the continuously moving water of the nearby Arkansas River, the drunken curses of out-of-work miners mixed into a discordant sound that filled the crevices and pushed away thoughts of peace and comfort, of Amber and Noah, of a different kind of life.
The horse snorted, swished his tail, and Daniel jerked himself from the mental brink. He snapped out of it, as he’d long ago trained himself to do. And once again found himself on a rutted thoroughfare in Pueblo, Colorado. And tomorrow, or whenever this assignment ended, would find him on another rutted thoroughfare in Somewhere Else, Colorado or Kansas or Utah or…
Subdued, he gave the Morgan one last pat before moving on.
Dressed in his recognizable Pinkerton dark duster and pearl-buttoned vest, he ambled toward the hotel entrance. The boards creaked beneath his boots as he made his way through a smoky huddle of construction crewmen released from laying track around Caǹon City and men laid off from the mines. Both groups hung around town drinking and gambling and picking up work to feed both habits. For a bottle and a rifle, they’d fight for anyone. And today, the owners of the Rio Grande hired them to fight for their cause. Hired Daniel and his men, too. If there was going to be a fight, he hoped to God it wouldn’t be a bloodbath.
A man, looking for trouble and knowing where to find it, leaned against the wall near the hotel entrance. His sheepskin coat hung open, thumbs hooked in a shell-belt that sagged about his scrawny waist. He smelled of blood, piss, and a hard ride. Daniel paused before the hotel door and was reaching for the knob when he spotted the man’s glance swing his way and come sharply alive. Daniel let his hand fall alongside his Colt, and he turned slightly to face him. The move was understood.
Come off cock, you son of a bitch.
The man acknowledged him with a sweep of his eyes, then lazily pushed out from the brick wall and ambled down the plank walk, disappearing in the crowd of men. Daniel’s heart was beating hard enough to be heard at the haberdashery, had anyone been listening. He hadn’t drawn down on a man in a couple of years and hoped to hell he never would again.
The nondescript exterior of the hotel hid a lavish interior with a heavily masculine décor that reminded Daniel of gentlemen’s clubs in San Francisco and Chicago. But it was the lobby bustling with armed men that reminded him of the hotels in Washington, DC, during the war. He quickly pushed that reminder aside.
Eyeing the distinctive envelope used by the telegraph office stuffed into his room’s designated mailbox, he approached the reception desk. One of the hotel’s overly ambitious clerks spotted him and claimed the message, having it in hand before Daniel could ask.
“It just came in, Major.” There was something in the young clerk who sported a determined line of peach fuzz, exerting itself to become a mustache, that reminded Daniel of what Noah would look like in a few years.
Daniel set his hat on the desk. “Thanks.” He ripped open the telegram and while reading the message, the clerk gave his hat a quick pass with a hat brush.
I have a business opportunity in San Francisco and must depart immediately. The house and staff remain at your disposal. Regards, Alec.
Daniel flapped the envelope against his palm. Bastard. Alec had invited Noah for a visit and after a few days intended to abandon him. Daniel had hoped his father-in-law would show interest in his grandson, but it wasn’t to be. Thank God, he’d convinced Amber to stay awhile. The lad would be devastated if everyone abandoned him.
“Major Grant.”
Daniel looked up to see Mr. Weitbrec, Rio Grande’s treasurer, smoothing his painter’s brush mustache as he crossed the lobby at a brisk pace. Daniel flipped the eager clerk a coin before sliding the telegram into his pocket. He’d have to consider what this meant for Noah, but first he had to finish the job for the railroad.
“Your hat, sir,” the clerk said. “Next time, I’ll be glad to give your boots a quick brush, too.” The clerk didn’t dally but moved quickly to address the needs of his next customer. Daniel wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find the young man in an assistant manager’s position before he had enough hair on his face to shave.
Daniel extended his hand. “Mr. Weitbrec. Looks like ye’ve pulled a contingent of men off yer work crews and added a few ruffians to the mix. Hope they have a heart for what’s coming.”
Weitbrec shook hands then gave Daniel a perfunctory slap on the back. “As long as Santa Fe doesn’t offer them more money, they’ll fight for the Rio Grande.” He pointed toward Daniel’s pocket. “I saw you received a telegram. Is the agency sending more men?”
“I’m expecting a response from the Denver office today.” Daniel patted his pocket. “This was from my father-in-law.”
“How is Alec? I heard he might be traveling soon. Any news on that front?”
Weitbrec and Alec were not only business associates, but personal friends. Was he already aware of his father-in-law’s business opportunity in San Francisco? Regardless, Daniel didn’t intend to discuss Alec’s business unless instructed to do so. Instead, he remained on safe ground, saying only, “My son’s visiting his grandfather, and Alec hired a tutor for him.”
“I heard Noah was visiting.” Weitbrec’s face, so expressive in its weathered lines, seemed closed up in worry, and the unseen burden bent his shoulders. “Let’s eat in the dining room. I sense an escalation of the situation here in Pueblo, and we might not get dinner tonight.”
The head waiter escorted the two men to a table—one of the last available—in the shadow of sunlight beaming in from two west-facing windows. The table was set with a white linen tablecloth, polished silverware, china, napkins folded into fans and set in crystal goblets, and menus set square for viewing. A half-dozen waiters in white jackets moved about with silver coffee pots, ready to pour. Catering to heavy gamblers with an appreciation for the finer things, along with the reputation of being the largest gambling establishment west of the Mississippi, kept the hotel in business.
Daniel wouldn’t have registered at the hotel or eaten in the dining room if he’d been footing the bill, but he was working for the Rio Grande and his tab was covered for the duration of the assignment. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the lifestyle, he did, but it was an extravagance reserved for dinner jackets, not spurs and a Colt strapped to his hip.
The waiter picked up Daniel’s coat that he’d slung over the back of his chair. “I’ll hang this up for you, sir.”
Daniel acknowledged the waiter’s offer and added, “I’ll just have coffee.” His china cup chattered against its saucer as he moved it to the near side of the table, making it easier for the waiter to reach.
Weitbrec removed his hat, patting his hair as if checking to be sure it was still there, then he perused the menu. “Lunch is on the company. You should eat.”
“I have two guests joining me for a late lunch before they leave town.”
“I hope they’re going to Denver. The line to Caǹon City is closed. Santa Fe doesn’t want more Rio Grande men rushing here to defend our property.”
“Miss Kelly and her co
mpanion came down this morning from Denver to meet with the general.”
Weitbrec set his menu aside. “Is she the woman who was at Alec’s dinner party last night?”
“She and her sister Amber.”
“I heard from Colonel Greenwood, Colonel Dodge, Mr. Hunt, and Mr. Lambord this morning. The Kelly sisters made quite an impression on the board members.”
“I came home late and didn’t hear the discussion about the railroad, but I had mentioned Miss Amber Kelly to the general yesterday. He extended an invitation to meet with her today. Although her sister Miss Olivia Kelly came in her stead.”
Weitbrec tapped his glass with a silver knife and a waiter instantly appeared at his elbow. “I’ll have the oyster soup and baked pickerel.” The waiter filled Weitbrec’s cup and refreshed Daniel’s. “What was the general’s reaction to Miss Kelly?”
“General Palmer dismissed her as easily as he would have dismissed an aide-de-camp.”
Weitbrec poured a generous amount of cream into his coffee, and after stirring, the dark liquid faded to a wheat-colored brown. “Which tells me the general was impressed, but because she’s a woman, he didn’t want to admit it.”
The waiter returned with the soup. “We’re expecting two additional diners,” Weitbrec said. “Hold the baked pickerel until you bring out the rest of the orders.” He spooned his soup away from him, allowing dribbles to fall back into the bowl, then he ate from the side of the spoon. “I want to meet Miss Kelly if she’s still in town. What’s she like?”
“Beautiful, charming, intelligent, and I must warn ye, a suffragette.”
Weitbrec had been leaning forward, over the table. He now settled back, wiping his mouth with the napkin, and looked directly at Daniel. “You know, they’re not all intolerable.”
Daniel laughed. “Interestingly, neither sister tries to force their beliefs on others. They unapologetically assume everyone already shares them. They believe they have a right to a seat in the conference room or in the gentlemen’s smoking room, whichever one is applicable.”
Now it was Weitbrec’s turn to laugh. “Sounds like you might have a personal interest in one of the ladies. Are your days as a widower coming to an end, Major?”
“Perhaps, but it’s too soon to know for certain.”
“Alec and I both agree it’s time Noah had a mother. Now, as for your scouting report. I read it quickly, but not thoroughly. Tell me what I need to know.”
Daniel drank his coffee, sans dollop of cream or cube of sugar. “It’s rumored that Sheriff Masterson and sixty well-armed Kansans are barricaded inside the roundhouse. But my scouts put Holliday and Masterson in Caǹon City, and Ben Thompson with about forty men in the roundhouse.”
“Which do you believe?”
“My scouts.”
“Do you think Thompson can be paid to walk away?” Weitbrec asked.
“Having the Supreme Court’s ruling, plus a satchel of cash might persuade him.”
“The company’s lawyers believe the ruling should be issued today or tomorrow. Since it’ll take weeks to trickle down to the district level, our attorneys have a complaint ready to file in the Fourth Judicial District. We’re confident Judge Bowen will issue a writ of injunction. We have sheriffs, backed up by deputies, lined up in every county where we have track. They’ll serve the writs and reclaim all property Santa Fe has confiscated.” Weitbrec finished his soup and pushed the bowl away. “How smoothly do you think it will go here in Pueblo?”
“That depends on Ben Thompson.”
In Daniel’s peripheral vision, he glimpsed Olivia and Connor and raised a finger, signaling to Connor who was scanning the room. Connor spoke to Olivia, and a smile tugged a dimple into one cheek. What had Connor said to elicit such a reaction in her? It was a look Daniel had seen on Amber’s face last night when she fell asleep in his arms, and all he had done was stroke her cheek.
“My guests have arrived,” Daniel said. “Miss Kelly is escorted by Mr. O’Grady. I’m trying to recruit him and his brother. The Pinkerton Agency needs men like them.”
“The Rio Grande is always looking for qualified men. I might try to hire them first.”
“Ye can try.”
Daniel and Weitbrec stood and introductions were made. Connor lifted Olivia’s cloak from her shoulders and gently brushed her neck with his fingertips. The erotic touch didn’t go unnoticed by Daniel and sent a wave of longing through him. The waiter removed the cloak, parasol, and the gentlemen’s hats to a small room near the entrance where coats and hats were kept. When he returned, he served coffee and took their lunch orders.
Weitbrec cradled his coffee cup, watching Olivia closely. “Major Grant mentioned your meeting with General Palmer. I’m treasurer of the Rio Grande so you won’t be divulging a confidence by relaying details of the meeting.”
Olivia glanced at Daniel, and he tipped his hand to her in a go-ahead gesture.
“I advised him against signing a lease that didn’t grant the company full control over freight rates. It’s my belief that once a lease is signed, Santa Fe will raise rates to Denver from Pueblo, Colorado Springs, and Caǹon City, and will divert additional traffic eastward over its own line. You’ll lose money and any benefits leasing the tracks might give you. Once shippers undercut you, your income will fall below what you need to pay interest on your bonds, and the assets will be thrown into the hands of a receiver.”
Weitbrec’s jaw dropped and then he laughed. “What’d the general say to that?”
She patted her lips delicately with a napkin. “He said I didn’t paint a pretty picture. I told him I wasn’t an artist, but I knew about war.” She stopped and studied Weitbrec for a moment. “Speaking of which, I heard you were captured at Fairfax Court House with Brigadier General Stoughton and taken to Libby Prison. That was an atrocious place. That building should be torn down, every nail melted, and a monument created to honor the men who were imprisoned there.”
Weitbrec mused, “Men find it necessary to retell their war stories, this battle and that, where they were when Lee and Grant met at Appomattox, where they were when Lincoln was assassinated. I prefer to talk about today and tomorrow instead.”
Daniel had never heard Weitbrec wax ruefully over the war, and he was surprised the treasurer reflected on it now. Even when men didn’t talk about the war, you could see in their eyes that they remembered. The war was always with those who survived—like an invisible shadow that quavered below the surface, a reminder of the horror, a tangle of longing, guilt, and overwhelming loss. If Daniel never talked about it again, never thought about it again, he could live with that.
“Then we shall talk about today.” She sipped her coffee and refolded her hands in her lap. “I told the general, in my opinion, the Supreme Court will grant you the primary right to build through the gorge. If you’re stuck in a lease, then you’ll spend thousands of dollars in legal fees trying to get out of it.”
Weitbrec twirled his mustache. “I expect the ruling any day now, but if it doesn’t come, the board of directors will push for the lease.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t persuade them. They’ll be making a mistake.” She glanced at Daniel. “And before you ask, I don’t own a crystal ball. The future can’t be seen, it can only be speculated about based on present information.”
Weitbrec chortled. “I was going to ask if you had one.”
The waiter delivered their luncheon plates, and after he stepped away, Weitbrec asked, “While you’re speculating, do you have any insight as to what’ll happen when we assert our rights and try to reclaim our property here in Pueblo?”
Olivia set down her fork and looked directly at Weitbrec. “Masterson and his sixty hardcases from Dodge are hoping to cow your men. They might have a well-defended position, but they can’t see they’re outnumbered. Why not go to the state armory and borrow the Mountain Howitzer? Roll that thing right up to those mammoth gates and threaten to blow the place up.”
Daniel jerked as if sm
acked with a whip, and his gaze bounced from Olivia to Weitbrec. His men had stopped by the armory earlier, and there had been no mention of a cannon, and Masterson wasn’t even in town. Daniel smoothed his short beard, thinking of the consequences if Masterson was in town and had possession of such a weapon.
“Masterson and Holliday are in Caǹon City,” he said.
She raised her brow, her back rigid. If he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he wouldn’t have seen her assuredness fade a little, or the moue of doubt. “Are you sure?”
Connor shifted slightly in his chair, toward Olivia, in a protective sort of way, but otherwise showed no emotion.
Weitbrec glared at Daniel, an awful light growing behind his eyes. The message was clear: Confirm the scouting report.
“If ye’ll excuse me.” Daniel pushed back from the table, the scrape of his chair echoing through the dining room as he rose, nodded to his luncheon guests and sailed out.
The Pinkertons had commandeered the gentlemen’s smoking room, much to the chagrin of the management, and set up a command post for Weitbrec. One of his agents stood at the door to keep non-essential personnel out of the room.
“Major Grant,” the agent said. “Have you heard anything from the Denver office? Are they sending more agents?”
“Don’t know yet.” Daniel pulled the man aside. “Take another agent with ye. Find Sheriff Price and Deputy Desmond. Go to the state armory. If they have a cannon, borrow it. Also ask anyone who’s recently been in Caǹon City if they’ve seen Sheriff Masterson. If he’s in Colorado, I want to know where.”
“I personally inspected the armory an hour ago. There’s no ordnance on the property.” The agent then nodded toward a sheriff’s deputy sitting nearby reading a newspaper. “Hey, John. Didn’t you just come in from Caǹon City?”
John put the paper aside and walked over. “Wish I’d never gone. Got caught in a poker game last night with Sheriff Masterson. Lost my watch. Almost lost my horse.”
“Is he still there?” Daniel asked.
“Saw him at breakfast. He’s got a big game tonight. He’s not going anywhere.”
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 56
