Chapter 1: Prologue

Life for Sam Benson hadn't been easy ever since that disastrous evening in the Queen of Hearts saloon. The well dressed-man had followed him out of the bar and all the way back to the hardware store.

"What are you going to do about the money you owe me?" The man stood in front of Benson, blocking his way into the store.

"I..I can sell the store and maybe get enough to pay you," Benson muttered.

"That won't do," his tormentor replied. "It'll take too long. I can't let this go on. If you get away with it, what message do you think it sends to others who'd try to swindle me?"

He paused for effect and to make the rest of his words more meaningful. He indicated for Benson to unlock the door and they both went inside. Despite his trembling hands, the little storeowner managed to light a single oil lamp while the well-dressed man watched his every move.

"I guess you know what happens to men who welch on their gambling debts Benson."

"I'll raise the money somehow, I promise." The store owner's voice was as shaky as his hands. "Please give me a few days…maybe the bank will.."

His hesitation showed clearly on his face. The well-dressed man pulled a leather case from an inner pocket of his jacket and removed a short stubby cigar. He carefully lit it, and began blowing puffs of smoke in the little man's direction.

"Look at me Benson," the tormentor interrupted. "Do you know what happens to men who don't pay their gambling debts?"

Benson shook his head slowly. He was sure that whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant. The single lamp cast intensely dark shadows around the store. Benson looked through the smokey haze from the cigar into the face of the man he was beholden to. All he could see were dark furrowed brows and ghostly pale eyes. The man lifted his left hand keeping his palm parallel to the floor then slowly but menacingly swiped it across his own throat. The meaning was clear to the frightened little storeowner. Once again the sweat dripped from his forehead, clouding his spectacles. Benson found it necessary to remove them and wipe the lenses on a handkerchief he'd pulled from his pants pocket.

"Please, please don't... I won't run out on the debt. I'll work hard and pay it off bit by bit." Benson was a timid man by nature and right now he could barely stand upright because his legs were so weak. He hardly managed to replace his spectacles without dropping them.

"That'll take too long." The well-dressed repeated. He turned on his heel. "One week .…that's all." He pointed at Benson with his lighted cigar as if to accentuate his words. He was about to leave but slowly turned back to face the trembling man. "There may be one thing you can do for me." He paused, considering his own idea carefully. "You might just be useful enough that I could forget about the money you owe me."

"Anything, I'll do anything." Benson was pleading now.

"There's a gold shipment on its way east. I'm told that the Overland Stage Company plans to route it through Denver where they'll be adding extra guards to protect it. I need details. You work the telegraph wires don't you Benson? You could get me all the information I need. Dates, times, stops and so forth. You bring me that and maybe I can overlook the debt."

"But I can't do that, it's more than my job's worth!"

"Your job? How much is your life worth? I'll be around when you find out."

A passer-by had seen the unlocked door and presuming the business was open, walked in. Benson's head was spinning. He had no idea what he could do but his overall desire was to save his own life. He quickly pulled the well-dressed man to the rear of the store and opened the service door. "You have to leave now…I have a customer."

The well-dressed man drew out his pocket watch and looked at it. "I have some other business to attend to. I'll be back shortly." He turned on his heels and left.

TBC