Counterfeit
Chapter 10
It was two days since his arrival here at Colter's mansion and he was sitting in a chair by the window in the bedroom he had been given. The view out over the vast amount of land belonging to Colter's estate was certainly impressive. The extensive green lawns and the big oak trees were something he would never see in the region of Kansas around Dodge City. Right now none of them were visible as it was too late in the evening. Dinner was over and he had come to his room to think. He knew that in Dodge City the saloons would be serving liquor to thirsty cowboys and the music and lamplight would be pouring out onto Front Street. He smiled as he thought of the Long Branch. If he closed his eyes he could see Kitty winding her way through the rough clientele, keeping an eye on the girls who worked for her and watching out for any potential troublemakers. He hoped Sam was there keeping an eye on things, and wondered who they would send for if it started to get out of hand. In his mind he could see her eyes searching for him, telling him to come back later after the craziness of the evening was over. He began to relax, his thoughts taking him back to that place of comfort. He was suddenly brought back to reality by a gentle knocking at the door. He went over to open it and saw Jennifer Colter standing there. She immediately came into the room. Matt did not close the door but followed her.
"What are you doing here?" he asked
"My Uncle sent me," she said looking down at the floor.
"What for?" Matt asked, still not comprehending.
"To.. to entertain you." She stepped back and closed the door, then removed the wrap from around her shoulders. Matt saw she was wearing a dress that was cut lower than any Kitty had ever worn. She began to undo the buttons down the front.
"Whoa," he exclaimed in astonishment, "what are you doing?"
"Like I said my uncle wants me to entertain you while you are here."
"Jennifer, this is not right, you are just a young girl. I don't want that kind of entertainment."
She looked at him almost crying. "If I don't please you my uncle will beat me."
He led her over to the other chair by the table.
"Suppose you tell me what's going on here." He went to pick up her wrap from the floor and gently placed it back around her shoulders.
For a while she sat there without speaking. He waited.
"You won't tell him will you?"
"I won't if you won't."
She nodded and dabbed her eyes.
"Why would your uncle do this to you?"
"He's not really my uncle."
"What about your parents?"
"I never knew my father, Mama would never talk about him."
"Tell me about your mother."
"She was a beautiful talented lady. She worked with a company of actors. They travelled the theatres of Europe performing Shakespeare plays. I was with her all the time. We went to so many beautiful places, the big theatres and opera houses." Her eyes grew teary as she thought back to those happy times. "We stayed in beautiful hotels; we even stayed in a real palace one time. Sometimes we would travel by boat along famous rivers, and my mother and the rest of the company would perform at all of the towns along the way. My favorite city was Vienna, have you ever been there?"
"No Jennifer, sadly I have never travelled that far. What happened to your mother?"
We were in Paris, she was performing there." She looked away, drying her eyes again. "There was a fire and she and several of the others did not get out."
"I'm sorry." he paused a moment and looked at her sad face. "Tell me about Colter."
"He was always there sitting in the front row. He followed my mother everywhere. I always thought he was my friend too. He was good to me in those days." A wistful look came over her.
"He told me to tell people that he was my uncle, that way they would leave me with him and he would look after me, otherwise they would send me to an orphanage. For a while we continued traveling around Europe but the money ran out. He said we would go to America, he could make money there and we would live comfortably again. It was a horrible journey, we didn't have much money so we had to travel on the lower decks of the ship. I thought I would die before we got here."
"So when was that?" he asked prompting her to continue.
"About 3 years ago – I was about 11 years old at the time."
"Did he always ask you to 'entertain' his clients?"
"No that started a year or so ago. He brought a really fancy dress to my room one evening and told me I had a job to do. We needed some money to go to San Francisco, I think I have an aunt there. He said if I helped him we would track her down and I would have family again." She began to cry now. "He told me to go to this old man's room and entertain him, to do whatever he asked me. She burst into tears – I had no idea…"
He reached and touched her hands, "Has it happened many times?"
She nodded.
Matt shook his head. Somehow he had to get her out of this. It would not be easy but he had to do it.
"I will try to see it doesn't happen again, Jennifer."
She looked up at him with hope in her eyes.
"You are different to the other men that come here. Like that man tonight at the dinner table, he always wants me. Uncle says I help him make good business deals and soon we will have enough money. That it is my duty to help him." Matt felt physically sick at the thought of what the man was doing to this girl.
"Tell me, if you had the chance to leave here would you take it?'
"But I have no where to go."
"Maybe we could find that aunt in San Francisco."
Matt was thinking that maybe he could get a wire to Quartermaine, get him to take her out of here when they arrested Colter. First he just had to get those plates. He didn't want to use the girl, but she just might know something.
"Does your Uncle have a place where he goes to work, maybe a printing shop or a storage place?"
She thought for a while.
"There is a younger man who comes to visit about once a month. He always brings a big box, and he and my uncle take the wagon and move the box to a place not too far from here. I know it is important to his business because he always wants me to entertain the man – and he is a bad man Mr. Weeks, he always wants me to do bad things that hurt. I have asked my uncle not to make me go to him, but he says it is important.
"Tell me about that man."
"His name is William, he is young compared with all the other men that come here, but he is evil."
"Do you know when he will be here again."
"Probably later this week."
Matt took a breath and paced the room. There had to be a way out of here. Although he was not a prisoner, he might as well be. He did not know exactly where he was and he had no horse and these city boots would not be good for walking very far.
"Does Colter ever let you go into town?"
"Not often, but sometimes with one of the men."
Dillon knew he had to find those plates it was their only chance.
"Jennifer, I am going to ask you to trust me, I need to work with your uncle for a few days, but I plan to get you out of here when I leave."
He slept in the chair that night, leaving the bed for the young girl. Next morning at breakfast he started working on Colter.
"How do I know I am not wasting my time here, maybe you can't produce all the currency I need?"
"I told you I am waiting on a shipment of paper, it should arrive any day now."
"I think I need to see the quality of the stuff you are making, if it's no better than that I found in Denver, it's not even worth fifty cents on the dollar."
He continued to work on Colter for the next two days, finally the man gave in and said he would show him the press and prove he was making greenbacks that even the treasury couldn't find fault with. They both laughed at that, although anyone who knew Dillon would realize that he wasn't really laughing.
It turned out that the printing press was located quite near the house. Dillon estimated that they had driven for less than five miles in the buggy when Colter pulled up in front of an old stone house. The marshal remembered what Carney – the printer in Washington– had told him about how the inks needed to be kept cool, and how a small speck of dust or dirt on the plates could ruin a whole run. This was how Colter had solved the problem.
He had been riding up front of the buggy, but on the back seat sat one of the numerous house staff or guards. Colter signaled to the man to get down and tend to the horse while he and Dillon went inside, but the Marshal knew it was not the horse the man was meant to be keeping an eye on, it was him. Any false move on his part would lead to a bullet in the back, he had no delusions on that score.
There were just two rooms in the old house and the press was located in what had once been a bedroom. Thankfully it was similar to the one he had seen in Washington. The press was being prepared for a run, the man that operated it looked to Colter – "this is the last of the paper. After this I can't do any more till the next shipment comes."
"It should be here tomorrow or the next day so just go ahead with what you have."
He signaled the man to continue and Dillon watched as the printer resumed his work. He used as much care and precision as the man in Washington had. The press turned and the gears clanked as the paper was fed in. In every detail it was like the one he had seen in the basement of the treasury.
When the first run came off the press the Marshal studied it in detail. He did not touch it yet because the ink was still wet, but he produced a small magnifying glass that Carney had given him and studied the detail on the bills. Colter was right, these notes were good, barely distinguishable from the real thing, even down to the red seal incorporated into the design.
"You see Mr. weeks this is quality work, that is why I can't discount it as much as you want."
"The serial numbers aren't correct, otherwise I'll admit it is good work."
Dillon gave the impression of someone knowledgeable about the printing of bank notes. He even spoke with the print operator – although was never introduced to him by name.
"We will discuss it later," Colter added as they left the building.
TBC