Author's Note: Horace Tabor did not become a major player in Denver until the mid-1880's, but for the sake of my story I have moved him back to the 1870's. I like the idea of including historical characters in my story, to make them more relevant and interesting. Horace Tabor was a driving force, in the advancement of both Denver and the state of Colorado. Oh, and course the Baby Doe affair!
Chapter Nine
"Boy you have some explaining to do and I want you to do it now!" Nick's voice was loud, and Heath noted the hands on the hips, booted feet spread apart. That was his older brother's stance when demanding something that he meant to get. "You disappear who knows where, the police show up, and your friend turns up dead!"
Heath caught the inflection on the word friend, and groaned inwardly; he wasn't ready to talk about Logan yet. Seeing the man last night, after several years, had caught him off guard and brought back memories he kept on trying to forget. He didn't get the chance to reflect on those though, because he and Sarah had quarreled when they retired to their room.
She was hurt and angry that he'd given her gift away, even as she taunted him with the fact that he'd never liked it. Heath didn't lie well, and Sarah was in no frame of mind to give him the benefit of the doubt. The upshot was that Heath had, without a final word, strode off to the servants bedroom, to spend the night.
However he didn't get any sleep, since he was tossing and turning while thinking of Sarah's angry words and the scars that Logan's appearance had opened up. Finally at four o'clock Heath gave up, and putting his working clothes on – the ones he'd brought to wear in the mines – decided to go for a walk and clear his head. Heath wanted to be at his best when he talked to Logan, so he could help him in any way possible.
"Nick, it's complicated." Heath rubbed his forehead with his hand, trying to get rid of the lingering headache he'd had since the fall at the station yesterday. All he wanted was some quiet time, but between Sarah and Nick it wasn't going to happen. He looked over at the bedroom door, where Sarah was with Priscilla, and Heath decided that tearing the scab of the wound with Nick was better than dealing with his wife.
"I met Logan when I first arrived at Carterson." Heath's voice hitched, and he saw his older brother's eyes widen. Nick's hands dropped from his hips, and he sat down next to Heath on the sofa. His older brother now had a look of concern on his face; of any of the family Nick understood best about his experience in the prisoner of war camp in east Texas.
"Matt Bentell wasn't the commandant when I arrived; it was another man who was from Georgia. He felt bad for the local farms, whose men had been called up, or whose slaves had run away." Heath balled his fists, and took a deep breath before he went on. "Captain Winston was a fine southern gentleman who thought that since we Yankees wanted to fight for darkies, we should work like them."
"I was assigned to the Dawes' farm; the family had never owned slaves. However, the owner felt the need to defend his land and state's rights against outsiders. He left his aged father, a wife and a son – Logan – who was only fourteen." He let Nick connect the dots, since his brother knew he'd been almost fourteen when he'd been captured.
"Logan's Ma and his Grandpa were horrified that someone as young as me had been in the war. Logan himself was just glad to have someone his own age. I spent the next several months working for them, and they took mighty good care of me. Not only me Nick, but I was able to smuggle food to the other men at the prison. However, it all came to an end when Captain Winston was called to fight, and Matt arrived."
By now Heath had made peace with Matt, but seeing Logan had brought up to the surface his time in the camp all over again. Heath knew that having started the story with Nick he would have to finish it and without any fissure of guilt went over and poured himself a shot of bourbon, which he drank in one swallow.
"Matt stopped the prisoners going off to work on the farms and plantations, not liking the fraternizing with the outsiders. Of course, by then most of the men were too sick to work, as rations were cut near down to nothing. The Confederacy couldn't afford to feed its own men, let alone its prisoners." Heath made his statement, keeping his back to Nick, as he looked at the wall. A pastoral landscape in a gilded frame hung there, but the image of Carterson prison was all he could see.
"Logan and his family kept me alive for a bit, smuggling food, until Logan was called up – March 1865." Heath paused, and he saw that Nick noted the significance of the date. "The south surrendered before Logan could fight, but the Union army rescued me before Logan came home. I didn't see him again until seven years ago, in Elk Creek down by Santa Fe. Well you heard the rest of the story last night." He finished his tale, and poured himself another shot of bourbon.
"Heath I feel for you, and admire what you wanted to do for your friend, but do you not understand that your evasions have only made the police suspicious?" He looked at his Heath sorrowfully, feeling bad for all that he'd been through; unfortunately there could be worse to come. "Those detectives are ready to arrest you; the chance to tell you side of the story has passed. We need to wire Jarrod." Nick stated emphatically.
"No, we don't need Jarrod yet. Nick, your comment about me almost being killed at the railroad station yesterday;" Heath felt his brain waking up, and he put down his glass. Instead he helped himself to more coffee, before he articulated the nasty suspicion that had come to him. "I wore that coat to the Opera House, and we talked to lots of people when we first arrived. What if Logan was killed because they thought he was me? He was in a park bordering the hotel I was staying at, and if someone was after me, well then they are following my movements." He let the comment hang out there, giving Nick the chance to process his words.
"It all makes sense, Heath, even as I hate to admit it! Someone seems to want you dead." Nick declared and helped himself to the whiskey on the drinks tray. "But why would he – or they – want your dead? Is it from your past?" Heath felt his brother's eyes bore into him, and Logan's face came to his mind.
"I can't believe it is my past." He answered. "I am rather thinking it is the prospect of what kind of mining reform I want to implement. Some of it doesn't come cheap, and there are mine owners who don't want to pay to protect their workers." Heath's face took on a contemptuous look as he made the observation.
"Well then we need to pay special attention at lunch today, to see who is surprised at you being there." He tossed back the drink, and flashed an infectious grin, which Heath had seen all too often. Someone had thrown down the gauntlet to the 'Barkley family' and his middle brother would never pass on a challenge.
"What lunch are you talking about?" Heath queried, even as he was concerned about Nick on the offensive. He suddenly wished Jarrod was here, but their older brother was busy with the legislature meeting in Sacramento. The whole family had been surprised at how suddenly Jarrod was happy to be in the capitol for the entire term, even as he'd disdained it before. However he sighed inwardly, knowing that he and Nick were on their own in Denver.
"Roland White – the attorney for the trust – is hosting a gentleman's lunch for us at the Mining Exchange Club. We are going to meet all the major players in the Rocky Mountain mining business. Didn't you read the twenty page briefing the man presented?" Nick sneered, reminding Heath that Nick didn't care for Roland in the least.
It also came to Heath that Nick was much more involved in the trust than what he'd originally been led to believe. Heath remembered the meeting at the Jarrod's office in Stockton and how he'd asked about the parameters of the trust and his position. He silently chided himself for not realizing that Nick could never be hands off with anything, especially involving the woman he loved.
"Well let's go see of if the ladies want breakfast." Nick's voice was jovial, as he stood up, breaking Heath's train of thought. Heath privately hoped that tea and soothing talk had calmed Sarah down. He was also aware that he had amends to make with her, about last night and the coat incident.
It was almost noon when Heath and Nick entered the Denver Mining Exchange. The club was located on the top floor of a six story red sandstone building ornamented with cream colored plaster swags and columns. The building was halfway between the capitol and Union Station giving easy proximity to the men who ran the Rocky Mountain's government and business.
The brothers paid close attention to how they were greeted, and the men they talked to, but didn't see any surprised faces. Instead they were welcomed gladly, and Heath especially was surprised to find out how many mine owners felt the same way he did. It turned out that there was a shortage of workers, since the US government had recently passed stricter immigration quotas. The general feeling was that they were lucky to have the workers they did, and would do anything to keep the mines running.
The only hold out was Horace Tabor, who had been a rival of Joseph Van DerHoffen ever since they arrived in Denver. Both men came from modest means, but had made vast fortunes, which they had parlayed into social and political standing. It had galled Horace when Joseph received the Senatorial appointment, while he'd been force to settle for Lt. Governor. Nick and Heath knew this from the briefing reports that Jarrod had received from the Pinkerton's, before leaving California.
At the end of an over two hour lunch which included fine food and wine, the brothers only came away well fed. In the short carriage ride back to the hotel, Heath and Nick started to discuss the luncheon. They spent several minutes running through various possibilities, but while they agreed that Horace Tabor didn't like mining reform, they couldn't see him trying to kill Heath.
"Maybe we've been wrong about the mining reform being the cause of the attacks on me." Heath had started to form a suspicion in his mind as he'd over heard two men make a ribald comment about the late Mrs. Van DerHoffen. He remembered Priscilla's oblique comment that her sister had not been a good wife, even as he thought about his interactions with the woman in question. The conversation on the train yesterday came back to him, and he knew he had to address the issue with Nick.
"What, it is someone else from your past?" Nick sounded exasperated, as if he didn't want to deal with some shadow figure that he couldn't confront. Heath knew that Nick was frustrated at times in how, even as close as they were; Heath wouldn't share anything unless it was pertinent to the situation at hand.
"I am wondering if it has something to do with Hester." Heath put the idea at there, and watched as Nick took in what he was saying. He knew that his brother wanted to be done forever with the woman, but since he'd married her half-sister; well Heath had to wonder how Nick had thought that he could ever really be done with the woman.
"Hester? Why do you think that?" Nick's voice rose, as an incredulous look came over his face.
"I remember Priscilla, yesterday morning, talking about how Hester's house had been broken into. What if Hester was involved in something that could incriminate an important person." Heath tilted his head to look over at his brother. "Why should the house be broken into unless there is something in there? Maybe I'm being attacked because I am the public face of the trust, or it is among some of the papers I might see."
"Heath, I think that is something of stretch. Hester was in Europe for over six months; when she returned to Denver, she was barely there for a week before she came to Stockton." Nick's voice was tight, and Heath knew he was reliving what had happened when Hester had turned up in California.
"Look, I grant you it is reaching, but I would like to talk to Priscilla, about any papers Joseph and Hester left. I know that she is going to go through their old house." Heath looked with concern at his brother, as he thought about how to broach his other request. It concerned private matters, which he was uncomfortable about sharing. On the other hand though it would help is life stay calm.
"I hope you won't ask why, but I would prefer for Sarah not to know about my interest in Hester's affairs." Heath could only imagine how his wife would react at the idea that he was interested in Hester's actions, or that she could be the reason for the attacks on his life.
"Of course Heath." Nick answered, way too understandingly, making him wonder just what his brother had seen or heard. "May I ask if everything was all right after this morning? I apologize again for disturbing Sarah the way I did. I should have been more tactful." That remark caused Heath to laugh, as Nick and tact didn't go together. Heath reflected that Nick had borne the brunt of Sarah's reaction to the news that he was gone.
"Yes we're fine. She just didn't understand my actions, and the coat had been a gift." Heath nodded his head, not wanting to go into the details of the talkthat he and Sarah had done earlier that morning. Wanting to put his brother off the idea of any problems in his marriage, he added "Sarah and I are going to go shopping together, to get me a new coat. I told her that we should pick one out together."
"Just the ticket, brother!" Nick slapped him on the back. "You should do some shopping for a nice piece of jewelry too. Ladies love sparkly things that come in ribboned boxes." His face took on an infectious grin, as he roared with laughter.
Heath remembered Jarrod saying something similar, after the fight Heath and Sarah had had, when Hester had come to town. Clearly in his brothers' minds, jewelry solved any women problems a man had. The issue for Heath is that Sarah didn't like to wear elaborate – or any – jewelry. She had told him on more than one occasion that she'd rather have the money in the bank.
He admired her simple, frugal attitude, but it made it hard to buy gifts for her. Heath thought about all the items he had wished he could buy for his mother, while she was alive. What was the point of having money, if you couldn't enjoy it? His thoughts were interrupted by their arrival at the hotel and he followed his brother upstairs.
Heath and Nick didn't realize it, but there had been a man at the luncheon that'd been shocked and horrified at Heath being there. He had earlier that morning received a note stating that Heath Barkley was dead, and setting up a meeting to get the rest of his money. The reason why the brothers didn't see the man's face was because his back had been to the door, as the men had walked in to the club. He was glad that he was facing the drinks tray, because his countenance had taken on a mixture of fury and puzzlement. Abner had not killed Heath Barkley, and he had failed two times now; Abner had never been anything but quick and precise. How dare he fail him now, when so much was at stake?
Knowing he needed to do his social duties he forced those thoughts from his mind, and turned to greet the Barkley brothers. He had enjoyed watching Horace Tabor almost going face to face with Heath Barkley. In truth Horace still had a thorn in his side about Joseph and the senatorial appointment, rather than mining reform.
He was not the only man who enjoyed Heath and Horace do their sparring, because most men in Denver felt that Horace was just too impressed with himself. They all knew about Baby Doe – his nineteen year old mistress – who he had installed in his mansion at Leadville. They didn't fault Horace his mistress; more than one of them had dalliances outside of marriage. However, they played by society's rules in regarding relations with women who weren't their wives. Horace's flaunting of this social convention went against the grain; privately they were making book on when Augusta was going to start divorce proceedings against her badly behaved husband.
The man speculating all this though could have cared less about Horace and his mistress; personal relations were secondary to making money. He only cared about his bottom line, and how Heath could ruin the income stream he had going. The lunch was tedious, as he'd had to put up with the man he'd thought he was going to pay for having been killed.
Late afternoons in October, the sun started to set around five o'clock; there would be light until almost seven o'clock, but it was clear that winter was coming. The original plan had been for him to take his carriage to the Tenderloin, where Abner would hail him. However the well-dressed man, filled with fury at how things had turned out, had instead sent the messenger – an imbecile of boy who would run errands with no memory of what he'd done or whom he'd seen – changing the meeting place.
The south-west part of Denver, by the Platt River was flat, rugged and either flooded or dry. The buildings around the area were warehouses, small factories and production facilities. A spur of rail line joined the Union Pacific siding, which linked up with the central railyard and other railroad companies. The well-dressed gentleman had chosen it carefully knowing that neither he nor Abner would look out of place, even as it gave him the advantage in dealing with hired thug.
"Guvnor I don't like this at all." A voice was heard before the speaker was seen, and the well-dressed man tightened his grey-gloved hand making a fist. He felt a welling up of power, as he realized that he was finally going to bring Abner to heel. Clearly he wanted the money he'd been promised very badly. For his part, having dealt with Abner for too many years without having the upper hand, the gentleman knew that he was in charge.
"You don't like this? How do you think I feel?" The well-dressed man strode up to where Abner was standing off to the side and took pleasure in confronting him head on. "You have failed in your commission, Abner. You're getting sloppy! Bad enough that you missed at the train station, but then you lied to me about Heath Barkley being dead." He raised his hand, the open palm barely missing Abner's cheek as he swung.
He took pleasure in watching Abner quake with fear, and the grey gloved man felt a wave of satisfaction come over him, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Physical relations were over rated, as he knew already, but he'd never had the experience of imposing brutal force over another person. This was the most exquisite emotion he'd ever felt, and he reveled in the moment.
"Guvnor no, stop! What do you mean?" Abner in his plain brown clothes was groveling – yes groveling – in front of him and the well-dressed man felt a rush of pleasure. He relished the thought of beating Abner, and he would if he didn't believe it would mess up his suit. But he saw that he didn't need to. The man already cowered with fear. The other occasions, when he'd needed Abner, he'd been forced to bow to his will. Now though, Abner would bow to him; he gloated to himself.
"I just finished having lunch with Heath Barkley; the man you said you killed this morning!" He was not only annoyed that Heath was alive, but that Abner had tried to get money out of him when he'd not completed the job.
"No that is not possible; I killed him." Abner went to explain about how he'd followed Heath to the Opera House and then seen him in the park the next morning. He'd come up in back of him and shot him, being careful to leave the coat and the items in the pockets intact, to aid discovery.
"Well you killed someone, but not Heath." The man growled, looking at Abner with malevolence. "It comes back to my original statement that you have failed twice now; do you have another plan?" In truth the man was almost ready to kill Heath himself, to save everything he'd worked so hard for.
The next couple of minutes were spent with Abner trying to justify his failure, but the well-dressed man didn't listen. Instead he focused on enjoying the spectacle of Abner pandering to him. Only the feeling of distaste, in having to kill Heath himself, made him willing to give Abner another chance.
"Heath is in town for six more days, before he heads to Georgetown. You need to kill him before, otherwise" the well-dressed man raised his clenched fist again, before he continued "if you don't kill him in Denver I will kill him in Georgetown; but not before killing you first!" He declared, looking the hired assassin straight in the eye. At the back of his mind was the knowledge that Georgetown, a mining town, would undoubtedly have lots of men who would be pleased to take the commission he wanted completed