Murder at Thumb Butte (5 page)

I was disheartened by my lack of imagination. I knew I was approaching the top, but I hadn’t pictured how different that would make the experience. When I was little, my mother had paid William Page to give me art lessons. After three sessions, Page quit, telling my mother I had the visual ability of a one-eyed bookkeeper. Since that day, I’ve never had reason to question Page’s judgment.

“
What about when we go around the canyon to the east?”

“
By the time we get to Lees Ferry, the deep part of the canyon will be to the west of us. Could we ride down next to the river from there? Yep, but it’s dangerous. That canyon gets frightenin’ narrow in parts, an’ the river likes to wash everything out of its way all of a sudden-like. It may look real pretty, but that canyon’s a killer.”

Our conversation had distracted me. When I looked forward again, I gasped. Without warning, the canyon had suddenly come into view—and it was breathtaking. Never had I imagined color. My one-eyed bookkeeper’s mind had projected the pencil etchings and photographs from Powell’s book onto real life. Instead of the charcoal shades I had expected, a profusion of colors, predominantly beige, brown, and gold, washed the canyon. Pale green plants grew horizontally from vertical cliffs and then bent skyward. Remnants of pure-white snow that seemed to cling to every ledge and crevasse accented the whole landscape. Nor had anything prepared me for the size. A photograph in a book gave no indication of scale. It seemed over a mile to the far side.

I pulled Liberty up short, and as I gazed ahead, the setting sun caused the colors to pulse and slide across the far cliffs. Now gold sparkles danced where the sunlight hit the cliffs. I looked at Sharp, who sat there with both hands on his saddle horn, grinning at me.

“
Why are you grinning?” I asked.

“
It gets better.”

“
Better?”

“
Yep.”

With that, Sharp spurred his horse and galloped the last remaining yards to the edge of the canyon. He was right—it did get better. From the rim, I could see more than the far wall. Stunned, I dismounted and just stood there, holding Liberty’s reins tight up against his chin. The expanse extended as far as the eye could see in both directions. Enormous outcroppings that plunged to a depth unreachable by a rifle shot serrated the entire canyon. Way below, like a thin pencil line, the Colorado River relentlessly toiled at cutting away even more earth. I could see why the canyon had so suddenly emerged before us: the northern rim was much higher than the southern rim, so until we got close, our line of sight just passed over the gaping hole to the horizon.

“
Damn.”

“
Kinda makes ya feel small, don’t it?” Despite having been here before, Sharp was as entranced as I. “Sure is pretty, but we gotta make camp ’fore dark.”

“
Fire?” I asked.

“
Nothin’ lyin’ about burns long, so we’re gonna need piles of dry scrub.”

“
I meant, are Indians a threat?”

“
The Paiute mostly trade, but there ain’t many around. Water an’ game’s better on the other side. If ya wanna worry, worry about rattlesnakes.”

I had seen a rattlesnake or two, but so far I had avoided any formal introductions. Sharp’s warning reminded me to use my rifle barrel to jiggle the brush as I gathered branches. I didn’t want to surprise any creatures, especially poisonous ones. Fairly warned, snakes slither away. At least, that’s what I had been told.

After we had groomed the horses, collected a huge stack of branches, and started supper, we moved our saddles close to the edge of the canyon to use as backrests while we watched the final setting of the sun. We sipped good whiskey, ate apples, and silently watched the last light play against the canyon cliffs.

At dusk, Sharp asked, “What’re we doin’ here?”

“
I told you. We’ll see Governor Frémont and look for investments.”

“
I’m not a prospector.”

“
Not what I had in mind.” I stood and grabbed my saddle by the horn to carry it over to the fire. While we had watched the sun set, the fire had burned down to embers, which were better for cooking. Sharp had a tasty recipe for camp beans, and I used my knife to start opening a tin.

He plopped beside me and dug out the rest of the fixings from a saddlebag.

“
What do ya have in mind?” he asked.

“
A mine puts all your eggs in one basket.” I slid my knife back in the sheath, and handed the open tin to Sharp. “I was thinking of providing something miners need, something they’ll pay top dollar for. Let someone else take the big risk. We get rich no matter who finds the gold.”

“
I like takin’ risks.”

“
No, you don’t. You buy producing mines, and then you make them produce better.”

“
I’m a miner, not a lumberman.”

“
That’s one option. Mines need protection, men, lumber, transport, food, tools, supplies, lodging, and diversions for the miners.”

Sharp looked unhappy. “Steve, I ain’t runnin’ a whore- or boardinghouse, buyin’ a saloon, or workin’ with a bunch of guards that are a whisper away from bein’ outlaws.”

“
Leaves lots of other options,” I answered.

“
Like what?”

“
Beef, horses, shop keeping, ore hauling, and lumber, to name a few, but I’d like to figure out a way to make money from engineering.”

“
Engineerin’? How?”

“
I have people in New York keeping an eye on things for me. I’ve got a couple of prospects but nothing firm yet. I’ll know better after I talk to Frémont.”

“
Frémont? What the hell does that ol’ codger know ’bout engineerin’?” Sharp had all of his ingredients in the beans and stirred the pot when it began to simmer.

“
Nothing, but he still has connections in New York City.”

Sharp stopped stirring and gave me a hard look. “Steve, yer not makin’ sense. We’re ridin’ into a bleak desert territory to get connected to engineers in a bustlin’ city thousands of miles away? Hell, we coulda rode to New York in a Pullman sippin’ Champagne, eatin’ good beef, and pinchin’ cute derrières. What the hell are we doin’ out here?”

“
Fixing beans … and getting a look at Powell’s canyon.”

Sharp sputtered. “Steve, yer not tellin’ me everything. There ain’t nothin’ we can do ’bout engineerin’ in the territory that we couldn’a done better in Leadville.”

I sat on my haunches and wondered what to say. “I’ve got an idea. It may be dumb, but I didn’t want you squashing it without a fair hearing.”

“
What’s Prescott got to do with this?”

“
A man.” I stood.

“
Someone other than Frémont?”

“
Yes.” I hesitated. “What I told you about Frémont and the Dancy family is true. Frémont can help, but the real key is another man. I need to get to Prescott to find him.

“
Who is he?”

“
Jeff, I’d rather not say.”

“
Why the hell not?”

“
Because it’s someone you hate.”

_{Chapter 7}

We sat on our horses, looking down a rise to a rough encampment along the Colorado River. Actually, the Colorado looked less like a river than a relentless mud slide. We had spent three days slowly skirting the cliffs that descended into the Grand Canyon. I had enjoyed every minute, but Sharp had remained sullen ever since I refused to tell him who we were going to meet in Prescott.

“
That’s Lees Ferry,” Sharp said. “The only means to cross the river for hundreds of miles in either direction.”

“
Looks desolate.”

“
Wait till ya get to the other side: empty land as far as ya can ride for days. I suggest ya stay on this side of the ferry until someone comes along headin’ fer Prescott.”

I turned in my saddle to look at Sharp. “That sounds like you’re not coming with me.”

“
I’m not.”

“
Jeff—” I didn’t have an argument.

“
If I see Elisha Campbell, I might kill him. It’s best we part ways right here.”

He had figured it out. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Sharp and I had spent untold hours talking about our respective histories, and despite his telling me about numerous bad characters in his life, there had been only one who had made his voice quiver in anger. Elisha Campbell had been Sharp’s partner when he ran an import agency in New York City. While he was on a buying trip in South America, Campbell had exercised an innocuous turpitude clause that he had buried in a long partnership agreement. The clause protected each partner against grossly dishonest or immoral behavior on the part of the other partner. Campbell not only used it to take control of the partnership but had also besmirched Sharp’s reputation to such an extent that he could no longer work in the import business or find himself welcomed in polite society.

I looked down at Lees Ferry. “What did he accuse you of?”

Sharp had never told me the specifics, and he hung fire for so long that I thought he still wouldn’t.

Finally, he said, “He accused me of importin’ young boys to satisfy rich old men with a taste for that kinda entertainment.”

Keeping my voice even, I asked, “How did he make it stick?”

“
He had a madam in the Bowery testify that she got her boys from me. The hearin’s were in all the papers while I was out of the country an’ couldn’t defend myself.” He shook his head. “Years later—after I had left New York—I discovered how Campbell happened on this way to grab control of our company.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
I mean, unbeknownst to me, Campbell was supplyin’ the whole East Coast with children for whorehouses. That’s how he put together such a tight case against me. He had lawmen an’ city officials in his pocket, an’ no shortage of witnesses from the business … if ya’re sick enough to call it that.”

“
Do you know how he got involved with Cornelius Vanderbilt?”

Sharp abruptly turned in his saddle to face me. “The Commodore?”

“
No, his ne’er-do-well son, Corny.”

“
Campbell an’ a Vanderbilt?” Sharp shook his head. “Sounds like him. He always sidled up to power.”

“
Odd choice of words.”

“
Why odd?’

“
Power. This is about electricity. Through Vanderbilt, Campbell has become a shareholder in the Edison Electric Light Company.”

“
What’s that got to do with … ?”

Sharp swung down from his saddle and led his horse over to some sparse grass. I followed suit, and for a long spell, the only sound on that barren ridge was the munching of horses, punctuated by an occasional snort or tail swish.

Sharp had been standing with his back to me, and when he turned around, he wore the hugest grin I had ever seen on his face. “Does it work?” he asked.

“
Yes. Well … soon. Last December, Edison showed off his invention by illuminating the Menlo Park buildings, but that test was only in a laboratory. He says he’s close to taking his lighting scheme worldwide.” I could see that Sharp had already grasped the significance, but I added, “Edison said he’s going to make electricity so cheap, only the rich will burn candles.”

“
He built an electric motor too,” Sharp said.

That took me aback. “You know about this?”

“
Hell, I get newspapers in Belleville. Maybe not new, but not all that old … and I have friends that send me letters. I knew about it but thought people were exaggeratin’. That’s been known to happen, ya know.”

“
I’ve got someone pretty close to Edison, and I’ve been trading telegraphs and letters all winter. It’s true, all right … and everything’s not been in the papers. Since December, he’s found a better filament that’ll last over a thousand hours. His laboratory has invented dynamos, conductors, fuses, insulators, sockets, and switches. This is moving fast. Jeff, I believe it will revolutionize hard-rock mining.”

Sharp watched the ferry cross the muddy Colorado. “Steve, why didn’t ya tell me about this?

“
Because I was afraid when you heard the name Elisha Campbell, you would bolt.”

“
Still might. Why is Campbell in Prescott?”

“
You’re going to love this: Campbell’s under investigation for securities fraud and possibly murder. Worse, for him, he’s been ostracized by the smart set. He’s hiding in Prescott and hopes to use Frémont to squash the inquiry before he’s indicted.”

“
Frémont’s a fool,” Sharp snorted.

“
I won’t argue with you, but he’s a legend in my family. Unfortunately, the ’ol Pathfinder seems lost when he leaves the wilderness. He was certainly misguided if he made friends with Campbell. I’ll grant you that he may be a political fool, but he’s still got powerful connections in New York City, connections Campbell hopes to tap so he can go home.”

“
Ya still haven’t told me yer plan. What’d ya got in mind?”

“
Right now, the only way to secure shares in Edison’s company is to buy them from an investor who was part of the original Vanderbilt consortium. If we get clear title to the shares, perhaps we can get a license, and if we can get a license, we can change mining all over the world.”

After a few moments, Sharp said, “How do ya plan to get him to sell the shares?”