Leadville (30 page)
Sharp disappeared into the hotel, apparently to give me time to ponder my sins.
The U. S. government had demonetarized silver in 1873, and the Free Silver Movement wanted silver coinage reinstated. It would make silver men richer, but cause inflation that would erode my paper investments. Richard was my friend; one I had been proud to help elect to the state senate. I had no regrets on that score. The whippersnapper Sharp referred to was another matter altogether. Peter had been a skittish law clerk when I had met him. I set him up as an assistant manager at a bank I had once owned in Pickhandle Gulch, Nevada. When I sold the bank to First Commerce, he became the manager, and—away from the prying eyes of the parent bank—had built his deposits and profits by using dubious means.
Something caught my attention in the street traffic. It was Richard hurrying directly toward me. What did he want?
He clambered up the porch steps and plopped into the seat Sharp had been using. Without preamble, he blurted, “Steve, we need your help.”
“Who’s we, senator.” I had no inclination to get involved in state politics.
“The Whist Club.”
“I’m listening.” These were people I cared about.
“Peter has taken over our hotel and Jeremiah’s store.”
“How?”
Jeremiah was another friend from my days in Pickhandle Gulch. When I left the mining encampment, I owned the sole hotel in town. In a gesture of friendship, I had deeded one quarter of the hotel to each of the members of our nightly whist club, which included a quarter share for me. The other partners were Richard, Jeremiah, and Doctor Dooley, who now resided in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. Since Jeremiah was the only one left in Pickhandle, he ran the hotel for us, along with his general store.
“Peter controls the county, and he boosted the taxes on both properties … seven thousand a year for the hotel alone.”
“That’s outrageous.”
“No, it’s thievery.”
“The town owns the hotel?”
“The county … and Peter is the county. You created this monster.”
I had been in a hurry, and had casually selected Peter to run my small bank. At the time, my main concern had been that he wasn’t tough enough for a lawless outpost. I certainly never expected him to be a petty tyrant. I was wealthy, with most of my investments in Wall Street. I never took my small stake in this hotel seriously, except as a way of thanking my friends for helping me out of a tough situation.
“I’ll talk to Commerce Bank,” I said.
“No! You gotta go down there. I’ve already talked to Commerce. They said this is local politics and has nothing to do with them. They refuse to intervene.”
“I can’t go to Pickhandle. I promised Jeff to go with him to Leadville.”
“That’s right.” Sharp had returned with a mug of coffee in each hand. “Nothin’ Steve can do anyway.”
“You know about this?” I asked Sharp.
“Yup. Reason I’m selling. This state’s too corrupt. Knock down one crook, and another just pops up like those little creatures at a carnival shooting gallery.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.
Sharp smiled and waved his arm to encompass the street. “Didn’t want to spoil this gorgeous mornin’. Life’s what it is, down south. Nothin’ gonna change for decades.”
“You can change it, Steve,” Richard insisted. “You can put Peter in his place.”
Something occurred to me. “Is the sheriff part of this?”
“Clive? Of course. Peter couldn’t handle this by himself? But Clive’s been pushed aside. Now he’s town marshal. There’s a new sheriff, and I hear he makes Clive look like a schoolmarm.”
I had been sympathetic up to this point, but now I had to bring this conversation to a halt. I was not going to get into another gun battle. “Richard, I’m leaving for Colorado. Soon.”
“It’s your property they stole … and they beat the hell out of Jeremiah.”
“What? How bad’s he hurt?
“Not sure, but I heard he lost sight in one eye. Might be dead. Can’t get a telegram out of that hellhole since the incident.”
I gave Jeff an angry stare. “Didn’t want to spoil a gorgeous morning, huh?”
Jeff shrugged. “Nothin’ to be done ‘bout it now.”
I stood. “We’ll see. I’m going to Pickhandle.”
I would like to express my appreciation to Jim and Marylu Allen, Richard Bigus, Mac and Sandy Castle, Barbara Cunningham, and all the wonderful people at Wheatmark. You have all made this a better book. Thank you.
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