“
I’m not. I know the Vanderbilts, especially the Commodore’s son. Seems the son didn’t inherit his father’s business acumen. Cornelius issued a stock certificate to your dear friend, but Campbell fled before paying. Someone else has since paid Campbell’s marker and is now the legal owner of those shares.”
“
Ya ol’ scalawag. I’ll bet I know who that is.”
I merely smiled in response.
“
Why do ya need to get the certificate from him?”
“
I have a certificate in my name, but it’ll be troublesome if Campbell returns to challenge my ownership. My lawyers say he could tie things up in court for years. They recommend I get hold of the document and destroy it so he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”
“
Steve, I know Campbell. He’s clever as hell, an’ not someone ya threaten with a gun. He fights in back rooms an’ courts. How the hell do ya expect to get the certificate away from him?”
I tapped my coat pocket. “All the legal documents are right here. Cornelius got a judgment against Campbell and endorsed it over to me. The law will recover my property or provide me with a writ that says it’s been destroyed.”
Sharp paced in thought. “How long ya been plannin’ this?”
“
All winter.”
“
Do Vanderbilt or Edison know your full intentions?”
“
No.”
“
Steve, ya got problems. Ownin’ a small piece of Edison Electric Light Company don’t mean you get an exclusive license to use the invention in mines.” He stopped pacing and looked at me. A small grin grew until it took possession of his entire face. “
That’s
why ya need me. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“
Yes.”
“
I’m the linchpin.”
“
Yes.”
“
Ya got people talkin’ to Edison already, don’t ya?”
“
Yes.”
He paced some more.
“
Bright light in the depths of a mine. This is gonna be worth a lot of money … millions maybe.”
“
More. My engineers have already figured out how to use electricity generators to bring fresh air as well as light into the mines. Blasting and drilling efficiency will double.”
“
An’ ya need a minin’ expert to give the enterprise credibility.”
“
I do.”
“
But first, ya gotta get clear title to them shares.”
“
Legally, I’ve got title.”
“
But if Campbell gets back to New York, he can make big trouble for ya. Ya’d be forced to pay him off with big dollars. Best to find him out here—when he’s desperate. That way, ya can get hold of that original certificate an’ destroy it.”
“
That’s my thinking. If someone else gets possession, they could also contest ownership, especially if they claim to be an innocent buyer.”
Sharp paced some more before saying, “Tell me ’bout this murder investigation ya mentioned.”
“
Old lady, rich. He chiseled the demented woman, and when she started screaming about it, she turned up dead. Campbell has an alibi, but police suspect he hired someone to do the deed. They’re not pursuing it very hard.” I walked over and put a hand on Sharp’s shoulder. “Jeff, I put Pinkertons on it. If I get proof, your old partner could swing from the gallows.”
“
If he returns to New York?”
“
We’ll figure out a way to lure him back.” Now I slapped him on the back. “Hell, if we have to, we’ll hogtie and ship him home.”
Sharp nodded thanks. “By the way, how do ya intend to make electricity?”
“
Steam engine. We’ll roll a locomotive up the tracks to the mine head and use it to generate electricity. Or perhaps we drop off a boiler. Haven’t figured it all out yet, but I have engineers working on it back east.”
Sharp took a moment to rub his horse’s forehead. “Let me see if I got this straight. Ya don’t own this invention, ya want to cut a deal with a crook in some godforsaken territory, an’ ya ain’t figured out how to make electricity.”
I laughed. “That pretty much covers it.”
“
And I thought I liked risk!”
“
I saw you thinking. You know what this could be worth.”
Sharp swung back into his saddle. “I do. That’s why I’m ridin’ with ya.”
Chapter 8
Prescott made Carson City look cosmopolitan. At the town’s center stood a two-story Victorian courthouse situated on a grass commons. The largest commercial building was the Palace, where we rented rooms behind the saloon. An outside staircase running along an extended arm of the building led to a covered walkway with access to rooms. The palace didn’t offer suites, but our rooms were large and clean, with fresh bedding. It had been four weeks since we had left Carson City, so we drank a quick beer and then took a bottle of whiskey to a bathhouse. Within short order, we had boarded the horses, secured adequate rooms, taken baths, changed into clean clothes, and gotten a little drunk. I was getting this routine on entering a new town committed to memory.
The Palace saloon was grandiose. Shiny brass lamp fixtures accented the dark paneled walls, and mirrors the size of a bed reflected the light thrown from the hissing gas jets. Earlier in the afternoon, the saloon had been quiet, but by the time we returned, it had turned boisterous. My first thought was that I was going to like this place.
Sharp and I leaned against the bar and ordered beers. As we waited for the barkeep to draw our drinks, I listened to a woman singing near a window at the front of the saloon. Her lusty voice easily carried through the large room that held at least fifty animated men. I noticed her hair billowed a bit and saw that the window behind her was open. Then a couple of men yelled at her from the boardwalk. Without missing a note, she turned toward them with a seductive smile and a dip that exposed a generous amount of cleavage. Soon the men were inside admiring the songbird, swinging chilled beers in rhythm with the music.
I signaled the barkeep to come over. I wanted to know who ran this establishment so effectively.
“
Whiskey?” he asked.
“
Not yet. I’m Steve Dancy and this is Jeff Sharp.”
He offered his hand. “Lew Davis. What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“
Could you tell me who owns this establishment?”
“
Bob Brow.” The barkeep pointed. “He’s over there, keeping an eye on the gaming tables.” He gave me a curious but unchallenging look. “Complaint?”
“
Not a one. I want to talk to him about business.”
“
Bob will talk your ear off about business—unless you want him to put money into some dumb scheme.”
“
Got my own money.”
“
Then sidle up to him. You’ll find him agreeable.”
Jeff and I waved thanks with our beer tankards and approached Brow, who stood behind a poker table, watching the play. I started to walk up to him, but Sharp put a restraining hand on my forearm.
“
Don’t walk behind the players. Ya might get yerself in a needless fight.”
I caught Brow’s eye and nodded in a friendly manner. “Mr. Brow, may we speak with you?”
He immediately came over, extending a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“
Steve Dancy from New York, and this is Jeff Sharp from Nevada.” We shook all around, and I added, “We just arrived and settled into a couple of your rooms. You run a fine establishment.”
“
Thank you, and welcome to the Palace. What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“
We were hoping that if we bought you a beer, you might advise us on doing business in Prescott.”
“
I might.” He gave us an appraising look. “I prefer Irish whiskey.”
“
Then let’s order a bottle of yer best,” Sharp said with a huge grin.
“
My best is expensive.”
Sharp made an open-handed wave toward an empty table.
“
Jameson!” Brow bellowed at the barkeep.
“
The saints are with us,” Sharp said, as we took seats around a square table in the middle of the room. “I feared that by crossin’ the border, we had abandoned civilized comforts.”
Jeff and I traded pleasantries with Brow until the bottle arrived. After glasses were filled, Brow asked, “What type of business?”
I took an appreciative sip and said, “We’re looking—”
“
Excuse me, gentlemen, Ah don’t mean to be rude, but do Ah know you?”
The voice was deep and the accent from the Deep South. I turned to see a slender, well-tailored man looking directly at Sharp.
“
Yes, I played your table in Dallas. Seems a long time ago.” Sharp turned in his seat and nodded toward me. “This is Steve Dancy from New York City.” Sharp gave me one of his wicked smiles. “Steve, I’d like to introduce Dr. John Holliday.”
I gaped but recovered fast enough to hope I didn’t look too foolish. I stood, extending my hand. “This is an honor.”
He gave me a perfunctory shake and returned his attention to Sharp. “Ah seem to recall a closer relationship than playing cards.”
Sharp looked nervous, an uncommon state for him. “I was a witness at your trial for knifing Mitchell.”
Holliday gave Sharp an appraising stare. “In my defense, if Ah recall correctly.”
Sharp shrugged. “I merely testified that he was cheating.”
Holliday laughed. “In Texas, that’s all the defense you need.”
“
Are ya runnin’ faro here?” Sharp asked.
“
No … doing too well at poker. When my luck turns sour, Ah’ll head out. What brings you to Prescott?”
“
Mining.”
Holliday looked puzzled. “Only small mines here … mostly played out.”
“
We’re interested in supplying the needs of miners,” I interjected.
Holliday looked at me as if I had just sat down. After sizing me up, he said, “In that case, Virgil Earp has a sawmill for sale.”
“
Virgil Earp’s here in Prescott? What about his brothers?” I was embarrassed by my enthusiasm, but a book that included the Earps and Holliday would sell like hotcakes.
“
The rest of the Earps left, and Virg’s only staying until he sells the mill. Then we’ll follow his brothers to Tombstone.”
Sharp scratched his chin. “In another locale, a lumber mill might fit our needs, but Prescott’s too far from the new silver strikes.”
“
Everything
in Prescott’s too far from the new silver. What are you looking for?”
“
A man,” Sharp answered.
“
Who?” Brow interjected. “I know everyone.”
I answered, “Elisha Campbell.”
Holliday and Brow immediately stiffened.
After an awkward silence, Holliday bowed slightly. “Ah’ll be leaving you gentlemen now. Good day.”
Brow pushed away from the table. “If you men are friends of Elisha Campbell, perhaps I should leave as well.”
“
We’re not,” Sharp said. “In fact, that man cost me a great deal.”
“
Are you looking to kill him?” Brow asked evenly.
“
No,” Sharp answered, a bit too forcefully.
“
Then you may be the only man in Prescott that doesn’t want him dead.”
I glanced at Sharp but couldn’t read his face as he evenly said, “Wantin’ him dead an’ killin’ him are two different things. But, in truth, I don’t want him dead … not yet, anyway.”
“
What business do you have with him then?”
Sharp looked as if he were getting angry. “Steve, this is yer affair.”
I hesitated and then lied. “Mr. Campbell might have information about my family. I need to talk to him. Afterwards, I don’t care if he’s lined up in front of a firing squad that includes every man in town.”
“
A few women might join as well,” Brow quipped.
“
What the hell did he do?” I asked.
“
He owes money to everyone, including me. He’s even got a marker with Doc. The son of a bitch hides behind Governor Frémont—another damned debtor. Campbell romanced a couple of wives when their husbands were away. Took their pride and their husbands’ money. He’s got three lawsuits going, one against me. If you got anything, that sniveling tinhorn sues, borrows, or seduces his way to get it, all the while using the governor for protection. He’s not without his charms, but he’s just a common crook with an engaging smile.”
“
How can I find him?” I asked.
“
Why should I tell you?”
“
Because he may have something I’m willing to buy. If I do a deal with him, I’ll let you know before he skips town.”
Brow laughed uproariously, and I noticed a curious look from Holliday, seated at a poker table across the room.
“
You’re a man after my own heart.” Brow laughed some more. “He’s out of credit on Whiskey Row, so he usually does his drinking in the home of a political figure seeking favor with the governor. He stays at Cunningham’s boardinghouse on Goodwin Street, so you might find him there.”
Sharp jumped to his feet, wearing a fierce expression. Following his gaze, I saw a neatly dressed man in his fifties strolling into the Palace like he owned the place.
Brow exclaimed, “Oh, my God, that’s Campbell there!”