Leadville (17 page)

That brought me up short. “Damn, you’re right.” I walked over to the stove and refreshed my coffee. I stood by the warmth and took a couple sips. “I need to think on it some more, but I might know someone.”

“Bullshit, Steve. The only person ya knew in Leadville was Doc, an’ he’s left town.”

“Not Doc.”

“Who?”

“Not now. Finish your breakfast. We’ve got work to do.”

Chapter 33

By the end of the day, we had a handle on pricing, we had finished organizing the store, and I had ordered a wagonload of merchandise from Denver. Customers were rare, but those that came in were surprised by our newly reduced prices. Hopefully, they would spread the word fast. The two boys had shown themselves to be good workers with a surprising maturity. I guessed children grew up fast on the frontier. No Indians had entered the store, but Sharp said they probably already had their stores for the winter.

After we closed, I left Sharp at the hotel door and walked on to the haberdashery. Several customers milled around, and I pretended to examine pieces of clothing as well. When the senior clerk noticed me, she nodded curtly in my direction and then continued to advise a tall, skinny man about the advantages of a tailored suit.

When she finally came over, she looked wary. “Good evening. I hope you find your coat satisfactory.”

“It keeps me warm. Or at least as warm as a person could expect in these mountains.”

“How may I help you?”

“I’d like to talk to you in private.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the only clerk working.”

“When do you close?”

She looked irritated. “I’m busy. What do you want?”

Before thinking, I blurted, “I want you.”

“Go to hell. Please leave the store. Immediately.”

“I’m sorry. Poor choice of words. I meant, I want to hire you.”

She stiffened her back and cocked her shoulders. “Get out. I’m not for hire. I believe you can find what you’re looking for on State Street.”

I had inadvertently made her furious, so this time I paused to think before I spoke. “Excuse me. This is a complete misunderstanding. Will you give me a moment to explain?”

“No. Last time you spewed a bunch of lies so I’d give you a discount on that coat. I won’t be taken again. Please leave.”

I tried a smile. “You always seem to be trying to get rid of me. The last time you kept sending me to an emporium down the street.”

She tilted her head and examined me. “You speak like an educated gentleman, but you dress and lie like a guttersnipe.” She glanced around. “You’ll have to excuse me. I have other customers.”

“Wait. I didn’t lie to you about having enough money to buy this store. In fact, I bought a store, and I intend to make it the most profitable in Leadville. I came here to hire you to run it for me. I pay well, and I’ll give you an ownership position.”

“Why? You don’t know me.” She sounded dubious, but I had captured her attention.

“That’s why I want to talk in private.”

“Please go. You people are so tiresome.”

“What people?”

“Con artists. People who work to take advantage. You’re no different than all the rest, and I’m weary of your kind.”

“You’re mistaken. I’m not conning you. A friend and I bought the general store at the end of State Street. My partner is much more rustic than me, but I assure you, we’re both gentlemen.”

“That’s an Indian store.” Her eyes narrowed as she took half a step away from me. “You expect me to give up a position where the very best people shop to wait on Indians?”

“No … not if you feel that way about Indians and people that may not be the very best. I’m sorry. My mistake.” I turned to leave.

“Wait.” She looked thoughtful. “How do you intend to make this store the most profitable in Leadville?”

“First, we cleaned the store up. I’ve ordered a huge shipment of new merchandise from Denver. Today we set our prices below every store in town. I’m a shopkeeper by trade, and I know how to make money. We’ll do what’s necessary.”

“That’s a bad location.”

“Miners go where they can get fair trade for their dollar. We’re on the corner, so respectable folk never need tread on State Street. It’s also handy for Indians … and we do intend to trade with the Utes.”

Her interest appeared to grow.

“If you will come under my employ, I’ll pay you forty dollars a month and ten percent of the profits.” The last sentence obviously appealed to her.

“Why? Why me? Not because I gave you a discount on that coat?’

“Because you held your ground. I couldn’t knock you off balance. My store isn’t for gentlemen. It will attract tough men, and I need someone that won’t fold.”

Now she looked hesitant. “Are you saying I’d be alone in this store … on State Street?”

She caught me off guard. I hadn’t really thought this through. “At times … possibly.” Then I had a thought. “I have two boys that will be around if my partner or I need to leave.”

“Boys?” She turned away and then whipped around to face me again. “How much do you want me?”

I stammered. “How much … I guess … why, what do you want?”

“Fifty a month, paid in advance. Ten percent ownership, not ten percent of the profits. An additional ten percent in the second year if we double the profits of the first year. Last, you get someone to teach me how to handle a gun.”

“That’s a stiff set of demands.”

“What’s your name?’

“Steve Dancy.”

“I’m Mrs. Baker.” She held out her hand and we shook. “Mr. Dancy, I came here with my husband. He was a mining engineer and was killed in a tunnel collapse. Unfortunately, he incurred debts before his death. So far, I’ve repaid all but thirty dollars. With fifty from you, I can be debt free and still have twenty dollars. I run this store. Mr. Cunningham hardly bothers to come by. I’m a good storekeeper, and you know an attractive woman will draw as many miners as your low prices.
That’s
why you want to hire me. So if I double the profits, I want my ownership doubled. Last, your store is in the worst part of town, and you offer me
boys
for protection. I want someone skilled to teach me how to use a pistol.”

“You came up with all that on the spur of the moment?” She didn’t respond, so I added, “I’ll agree to the rest of your demands, but I don’t pay in advance. I will, however, give you fifty dollars to sign an agreement to work for me for one year.”

“If I quit?”

“If within the first year, you owe me fifty dollars.”

“You’ll pay me sixty dollars to sign the agreement, and it goes down five dollars each month.”

“Deal.” I laughed. She was audacious. “Where’re you from?”

“Philadelphia.”

“Family?”

Her expression became defiant. “My father disowned me when I married Paul, because his family failed to qualify for a listing in the social register.” Her eyes held mine with a steady gaze. “Don’t worry, Mr. Dancy, I won’t run home to Papa.”

I nodded. “If you come over to the store tomorrow, I’ll have papers ready.” I examined her maroon dress. It flared from the hips but was tight above the waist. Her hair was pulled back in a modest bun, but stylishly to show off her graceful neck. Altogether, she looked alluring yet refined. “If I may, your dress will be impractical for my store.”

She sounded wary when she asked, “What do you have in mind?”

“A gingham dress, perhaps. Something with more color.”

She stiffened her back and cocked her shoulders again. I think she meant it as a defiant pose, but it had the effect of thrusting her breasts at me. “I won’t show cleavage.”

“No need.” I glanced down at her chest and smiled. “A tight bodice like you’re wearing will be quite sufficient.”

I left while she was still blushing.

All in all, it had been a tiring day. As soon as I returned to the hotel, I ate a quick meal and retired, because Sharp insisted that we open at six in the morning. I missed the idle-rich bird hunting customers that I was used to in New York. They seldom came in until they had enjoyed a leisurely breakfast.

I unhooked my holster and was about to undress, when I heard a knock. I opened the door to see a pasty boy. “A gentleman in the lobby wants to see you,” he said.

“Did he give a name?” I asked.

“Nope, but I knows him.”

“Would it be inconvenient for you to tell me his name?”

“Do ya have two bits?”

“I do.” I kept my hands at my side.

After a puzzled moment, he said, “If you gives me two bits, I’ll gives you the name.”

“Two bits is a lot of money. If I give it to you, I want you to let me know if any strangers ask about me or my friend, Mr. Sharp, in room 207.”

“Two bits
ain’t
a lot of money. If ya want me to keep an eye out for ya, it’ll cost ya four bits … every day.”

“How do I know you’re worth four bits a day?”

“You see me in the lobby. All the times. I’m always there, and I keep a keen eye out.” He shuffled his feet. “Listen, Mister, I don’t work for the hotel. I hang around and do favors for guests. I’m a professional.”

“A professional?” I laughed. “Well, I’m a cheap. I’ll pay you two bits a day.”

“How good a job ya want done?”

I laughed again. I liked this enterprising kid. I reached into my pocket and held out a silver dollar. “For two days, but it includes giving me the name of the man downstairs.”

He grabbed the coin. “His name’s Bat Masterson. I’d bring my gun if I was you.” A sly smile took over his pasty face. “I’ll see you in two days for the next dollar … if yer still around.” He scurried away before I could respond.

Bat Masterson? Shit. Why would he want to see me? Should I avoid him? I decided it was better to see him in the lobby rather than on the street. He couldn’t mean to shoot me in a high-toned hotel. After thinking it through, I decided to go unarmed. No sense in provoking a famous gunman.

I walked downstairs and saw Masterson in the quiet corner by the fireplace that Sharp and I had used earlier. He spotted me as I walked up, so I extended my hand and said in a friendly voice, “Mr. Masterson, pleased to meet you. I’m Steve Dancy.”

He stood to shake my hand and simply said, “Likewise.”

After the preliminaries, we sat in chairs facing each other in front of the welcoming fire. I guessed that he was in his mid-twenties, and he was smaller than his reputation. His custom-tailored suit fit perfectly, and his white shirt was clean and pressed. He had the look of a dandy but sported a short-barreled Colt.

“I thought we’d better talk,” he said. “I don’t know you or anything about you, but I believe in giving a man fair warning until I learn he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Mrs. Bolton hired you?” I asked, getting right to the point.

“Mrs. Bolton tried to hire me, but I’m otherwise engaged.”

That stopped me for a second. Finally, I said, “I’m glad to hear that. I wouldn’t want you after me.”

“Don’t take it as good news. There’s plenty of idle men in this town. My take on Mrs. Bolton is that she doesn’t give up easy. She’ll find someone. Unlike me, he’ll probably be a back shooter.” He gave me an appraising stare. “What’d you do to piss her off so much?”

“I helped her daughter-in-law with the execution of her son’s will. Her husband left almost everything to his wife.” I paused. “To her way of thinking, I helped steal the ranch she built with her husband and managed for her deceased son. A large ranch, by the way. The largest in Nevada.”

“Her daughter-in-law may’ve got the lion’s share, but Mrs. Bolton has enough ready cash to hire anyone in this town willing to take on the work.”

“You said you were otherwise engaged. May I ask how?”

“No secret. I work for the Santa Fe Railway … and I’m still sheriff of Ford County in Kansas.”

“The Santa Fe? How did you come to be employed by them?”

“Long history. I helped them lay the tracks into Dodge City back in ’72 when I was only eighteen.”

“You’re not laying track now, I hope.”

“No, security. We’re having skirmishes with the Denver and Rio Grande line. Miners are hauling fifty tons of refined silver a day out of these hills, and they haul the ore out by wagon surrounded by a heavy guard. The canyon along the Arkansas River has room for only a single pair of rails, so whoever gets here first will have a highly profitable monopoly.”

“I heard the Carbonate Kings hire Pinkertons to ride alongside the Wells Fargo guards.”

Masterson looked quizzical. “That’s right. What’s your interest?”

“Cost. I’m trying to gauge the profit in hauling a trainload out of these mountains. Shares in the winning line should do well on Wall Street.” I tapped the arm of my chair in thought. “These skirmishes you mentioned, are they shooting skirmishes?”

“On occasion. Mostly moving survey stakes, man-made avalanches, and tearing up each other’s tracks.”

“Can I help? I own Santa Fe
and
Rio Grande stock.”

Masterson gave me another appraising look. “Are you the gent that had a shooting in Durango?”

“Yes. The first of Mrs. Bolton’s hired guns. Thankfully, they were just cowpokes looking for easy money. Not so easy, as it turned out.”

Masterson shook his head. “People like you and me build reputations off no-accounts with shaky hands.”

“I understand you faced some dangerous men in Dodge City.”

“Drunk men for the most part. The secret to a long life as a sheriff is to approach danger stone sober. I learned that from Wyatt Earp.”

“Is it true he’s a teetotaler?”

“He takes a drink on occasion but never when he might face trouble. A sober man facing someone in his cups always has the edge. I’m giving you good advice. Don’t drink in public until you deal with this threat.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. May I ask a question?”

“You can ask. I’ll decide whether I want to answer.”

“I have a friend who’s acquainted with Doc Holliday. He says he’s only dangerous when drunk. How does that fit with your advice?”

“Doc’s a strange one, and your friend’s right. His hand shakes when he’s sober and gets steady when he drinks. He also gets mean as hell sometimes, especially if wronged. But Doc’s different than most men. Don’t be fooled into believing you get better with a couple drinks under your belt. You just think you’re better.”