retain a similar confidence in him. I’d rather risk the loss of a single wagon of unprocessed ore than lose a remote outpost.”
I nodded because it made sense. “We saw a lot of guards on the way up. Did you add them when this trouble started?”
“Always been there. There’s a lot of silver to protect. The guards check people comin’ an’ goin’.”
“Going?”
“The greatest minin’ risk is theft, an’ refined ore is easy to steal in small quantities. People who work for me know they’ll be searched every time they leave.” He waved his cigar, leaving a trail of smoke in the air. “Just comes with the job.”
“How many people work for you?”
“Over two hundred hereabouts, countin’ miners, wranglers, teamsters, guards, engineers, an’ the people to take care of them. Washburn has at least double that number, probably more.”
The servant entered with a tray loaded with three chilled beers. After an appreciative swallow, I asked, “Who do you bank with in Carson City?”
Sharp took a swallow of his own beer before answering. “You have as much of my business as I intend to keep local.”
“I’m not interested in more of your business. I am interested in whether you bank with Commerce.”
“Why?” He looked surprised.
“My guess is that Washburn uses Carson City First, and I want to apply financial pressure on him. An alliance with Commerce Bank could help.”
Sharp studied his beer and then me. “You’re right about both our bankin’ habits, but I don’t see how it matters.”
“I don’t have it all figured out yet, but it’ll matter. Washburn’s spread thin, and I’ll find a way to leverage that.”
“You’re thinkin’ ya can bankrupt Washburn?” Sharp looked dubious.
“Not enough time, but perhaps I can make him desperate … and desperate men fight sloppy.”
“Washburn’ll just shoot you.” McAllen sounded disdainful.
“You mean he’ll hire someone to shoot me. Hiring takes money. If I can pinch his purse, I reduce his power. I aim to attack him on the political and business front while he tries to attack me with guns.”
Captain McAllen shook his head. “I don’t like your chances. You might be long dead before your way can work.”
“That’s why I hired you, to get me the time I need.”
McAllen took a satisfied draw on his cigar. “Time is what I sell.”
I laughed. “Please inform your office that you foresee a long engagement.”
Chapter 20
The six of us left Sharp’s place after a hearty breakfast. I should say four of us, because two of the Pinkertons had left an hour before. It was a three-day ride to the Bolton ranch, but McAllen told me that the first day held the most danger, because the narrow valley we had to pass through provided good cover and a reasonable shot for a marksman.
As we made our way down the center of the tight basin, I occasionally spotted the two Pinkertons riding up on the ridges to either side. By late afternoon, we emerged into a broad valley flanked by distant mountains. McAllen led us off a road that meandered close to the western range and guided us into the middle of the valley. Although this route made the ride more difficult, it put almost a mile between us and any ambush shelter. The expansive sight lines and the absence of trees made me feel more comfortable.
We rode mostly in silence. Jeff Sharp and Captain McAllen stayed in front and barely spoke a word. McAllen evidently thought it unnecessary to introduce me to his men, and they kept a stern, professional demeanor during the ride. The only thing I knew about the man who wore my clothes and had adopted my horse was that his first name was Sam.
Sam spoke to me for the first time, after we emerged from the foothills into the open plain. “Fine horse. What’s his name?”
“Chestnut … and I’d appreciate it if you returned him unscathed.”
Sam gave a short laugh before answering. “I’ll do my best. Where’d
I nodded because it made sense. “We saw a lot of guards on the way up. Did you add them when this trouble started?”
“Always been there. There’s a lot of silver to protect. The guards check people comin’ an’ goin’.”
“Going?”
“The greatest minin’ risk is theft, an’ refined ore is easy to steal in small quantities. People who work for me know they’ll be searched every time they leave.” He waved his cigar, leaving a trail of smoke in the air. “Just comes with the job.”
“How many people work for you?”
“Over two hundred hereabouts, countin’ miners, wranglers, teamsters, guards, engineers, an’ the people to take care of them. Washburn has at least double that number, probably more.”
The servant entered with a tray loaded with three chilled beers. After an appreciative swallow, I asked, “Who do you bank with in Carson City?”
Sharp took a swallow of his own beer before answering. “You have as much of my business as I intend to keep local.”
“I’m not interested in more of your business. I am interested in whether you bank with Commerce.”
“Why?” He looked surprised.
“My guess is that Washburn uses Carson City First, and I want to apply financial pressure on him. An alliance with Commerce Bank could help.”
Sharp studied his beer and then me. “You’re right about both our bankin’ habits, but I don’t see how it matters.”
“I don’t have it all figured out yet, but it’ll matter. Washburn’s spread thin, and I’ll find a way to leverage that.”
“You’re thinkin’ ya can bankrupt Washburn?” Sharp looked dubious.
“Not enough time, but perhaps I can make him desperate … and desperate men fight sloppy.”
“Washburn’ll just shoot you.” McAllen sounded disdainful.
“You mean he’ll hire someone to shoot me. Hiring takes money. If I can pinch his purse, I reduce his power. I aim to attack him on the political and business front while he tries to attack me with guns.”
Captain McAllen shook his head. “I don’t like your chances. You might be long dead before your way can work.”
“That’s why I hired you, to get me the time I need.”
McAllen took a satisfied draw on his cigar. “Time is what I sell.”
I laughed. “Please inform your office that you foresee a long engagement.”
Chapter 20
The six of us left Sharp’s place after a hearty breakfast. I should say four of us, because two of the Pinkertons had left an hour before. It was a three-day ride to the Bolton ranch, but McAllen told me that the first day held the most danger, because the narrow valley we had to pass through provided good cover and a reasonable shot for a marksman.
As we made our way down the center of the tight basin, I occasionally spotted the two Pinkertons riding up on the ridges to either side. By late afternoon, we emerged into a broad valley flanked by distant mountains. McAllen led us off a road that meandered close to the western range and guided us into the middle of the valley. Although this route made the ride more difficult, it put almost a mile between us and any ambush shelter. The expansive sight lines and the absence of trees made me feel more comfortable.
We rode mostly in silence. Jeff Sharp and Captain McAllen stayed in front and barely spoke a word. McAllen evidently thought it unnecessary to introduce me to his men, and they kept a stern, professional demeanor during the ride. The only thing I knew about the man who wore my clothes and had adopted my horse was that his first name was Sam.
Sam spoke to me for the first time, after we emerged from the foothills into the open plain. “Fine horse. What’s his name?”
“Chestnut … and I’d appreciate it if you returned him unscathed.”
Sam gave a short laugh before answering. “I’ll do my best. Where’d
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