Chapter Three

John Vandergelt the Second was furious. He stomped about his hotel room, his thick brows knit in his rage as he waved a telegram for his visitor to see.

"Look at what insanity Jack has got himself into now!" he roared. "Some mad plan to turn the criminals away from Jack and my businesses by making it look like I don't legally own the ones the syndicate wants!"

"Well," drawled his guest, "that doesn't sound like such a bad plan to me."

"Of course you wouldn't think so," Vandergelt grumped. "Actually, it might not be, if it would work as intended. The question is, could it?"

"It would have to be pretty convincing," said his visitor.

"Yes," Vandergelt agreed. "The person presenting the false documents about someone else owning the companies would have to be convincing." He advanced on the man. "Slimy, sleazy, a smooth-talker."

His guest gave an uncomfortable smile. "Well, I'm sure you've got plenty of lawyers who'd fit the bill."

Vandergelt stiffened. "Blast it, man, I don't know whom I can trust among my lawyers or anyone else in the company! I'm going out to Bent Spoon myself and I need someone I can trust going with me! You're Jack's friend; that's why I called you here. I know I can trust you."

Bret Maverick nervously shifted about. "Well, I'd like to help Van and all, I really would. But I don't know about playing a lawyer."

"It shouldn't be that different from being a gambler, really," Vandergelt retorted. "You're smooth, oh so very smooth."

"Yes, but I don't really know all the proper legal jargon and that sort of thing," Bret protested. "I'd be spotted as a fake immediately."

"Not with a little coaching on the trip," Vandergelt insisted. "And naturally I wouldn't expect you to do this for free, since there is some element of risk involved." He walked back to his desk and took out his checkbook. "What would you say to two thousand dollars, deposited immediately in any bank of your choice?"

Bret stared, his eyes as wide as saucers. "I'd say you've just bought yourself another lawyer."

xxxx

Beau tugged uncomfortably on the collar of his shirt. Dressing like Jack was an odd experience in and of itself, but even stranger was going about town and acting properly stuffy and upper-class. Beau knew well enough how to play the part of an Englishman, but an American businessman and socialite with an English accent was another matter entirely. But he must not be doing too badly; wherever he went, they seemed to accept him as Jack. On the other hand, they hadn't seen much of Jack to compare him with.

In every place he entered, it was the same: go in, play the part, and hang around long enough to be spotted. Whenever he saw someone heading towards the establishment with determination and purpose, he backed out, just in case they were coming after him. On the other side of town, he knew Jack was doing the same thing. It had been a very long day of running around Bent Spoon; by now Beau was sure he had memorized every building and every house. It was a relief the day was almost over. Then he could stop the game for a few hours and relax back at the hotel.

Jack had sent a cable to his father that morning and had received the reply that he wasn't far away and would be coming out. They had expected and hoped for that.

What neither of them had expected was that he might not arrive alone.

It was Beau's misfortune to be in front of the general store when the evening stage arrived. John Vandergelt the Second got out first, looking every bit as stern as Jack had said he was. He didn't know of the plan to have two Jacks running around town, so Beau tried to quickly duck out of sight. He could fool townspeople who had never seen Jack for more than a moment, but he had no hope of fooling Jack's father and no desire to try.

He nearly went sheet-white when he started to turn around at the side of the building and bumped into a strangely bespectacled Bret.

"Van?!" Bret exclaimed. "What the heck are you doing walking around in broad daylight? That's dangerous! You should have stayed at the hotel and waited for your father to get here!"

"Oh . . ." Beau's mind raced. Bret was fooled for the moment, but it would only take a few minutes of conversation for him to realize the truth. Beau had to decide: should he let Bret in on the truth or keep up the charade?

Vandergelt quickly made up his mind. "Jack, for Heaven's sake!" he boomed as he came up behind Bret. "Don't you have any sense at all? There's men out to get you!"

Beau swiftly recovered from his shock. "I'm sorry, Father," he said. "I . . . thought I'd come meet your stage."

"Bah! How would you know I'd arrive on this stage?" Vandergelt grumped. "I might not have made it until tomorrow!"

"He's got a good point there, Van," said Bret.

Beau shifted nervously. "Bret, I . . ."

"Oh, you remember Mr. Bret, I see," Vandergelt said with a warning tone to his voice. "He finished law school and came onboard as one of my lawyers."

"Mr. Bret," Beau repeated. "Your lawyer." His stomach was swiftly sinking. "Yes, I . . . of course I remember him, Father. Yes. We were . . . very good friends, weren't we, Bret?"

"Very," said Bret, patting him on the shoulder. "Now, why don't you just come along to the hotel and stay there with your little wife while we go see Mr. Tolliver about some business."

Beau cringed. "He's going to love that." He really quite hated to think how Snakes would react when Bret walked through the door of his home. Snakes had never forgiven Bret for breaking his hold over several of the towns Snakes owned. While Snakes was very fond of Beau, any such amiability was absent where it came to Bret.

Bret looked like he was trying not to cringe too. "Well, all's fair in love and business. Now come on, Van." He started to draw an arm around Beau's shoulders.

Beau quickly slipped away. "I'll meet you there," he said. "It's only a short walk. Nothing will happen in the middle of the day." He stepped back into the alley.

"Jack!" Vandergelt yelled. "Jack, you come back here right now! JACK!" He ran forward to follow Beau into the alley, but Beau had already ducked into the back door of the general store and vanished.

Bret followed him to the side of the building. "Is it just me or was Van acting stranger than usual?"

"Bah!" Vandergelt cried. "He must have some other hair-brained scheme we don't even know about yet!"

Bret rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, maybe we should go see his wife before calling on Mr. Tolliver. He's not exactly going to be jumping for joy to see us."

"Nevermind Lydia!" Vandergelt snapped. "She's an idiotic dreamer. But she's a nice girl and she has seven million dollars to boot. She was a perfect match for Jack." He turned away from the alley. "Let's go on to see Mr. Tolliver. If we keep him occupied and get him to believe this document, maybe he'll call off the search for Jack."

Bret sighed. "Okay. You're running the show." But he couldn't help the nagging feeling that something just wasn't adding up.

Beau waited until he heard their footsteps fade away before coming out of the stock room and back into the alley. "That was close," he said to himself. "Now let's hope they don't run into Jack before they find Snakes." His eyes went wide in horror at the thought. "What am I saying?!"

xxxx

John Vandergelt Senior ranted all the way across town to Snakes' mansion.

"What could have gotten into my son?!" he roared. "He knows he's supposed to stay out of sight. I expressly told him that in my return cable!"

"Maybe he didn't read it all the way through?" Bret suggested.

"Oh, he's always been reckless and unorthodox! But I don't have to tell you that. You remember his courtship with Lydia!"

Bret winced. "I could never forget it, even though I try sometimes."

"Why, it wouldn't surprise me if he decides . . . here now! There he is again!"

"Huh?" Bret turned, facing in the direction Vandergelt was pointing. A familiar figure was now coming towards them from the direction in which they were going.

"How on Earth did he get ahead of us?!" Vandergelt screamed.

"Darned if I know," Bret said, pushing back his hat. Louder he yelled, "Hey, Van! You said you were going right back to the hotel!"

Jack stopped in front of him, looking very puzzled indeed. "What? Bret, whatever are you doing here? And when did you start wearing spectacles?"

"Jack, for the love of Heaven, don't play games!" Vandergelt yelled. "To hear you, you'd think we hadn't just run into each other in the last half-hour!"

Jack paused, fully taking in the situation. "Oh," he said in realization. "Of course we did. Don't mind me, Father; it's been a long and stressful day."

"Well, you shouldn't have spent it outside!" Vandergelt scolded. "You know assassins are after you! Show a little intelligence, Son!"

"Frankly, Father, I've kept them so busy all day long that by now I doubt they know up from down." Jack tipped his top hat. "And now that you're here, I believe I will go back to the hotel. Lydia must be worried sick." He looked to Bret. "It's good to see you again, Bret, although I certainly wasn't expecting it."

"Yeah," Bret said slowly. "I wasn't expecting it either. See you around, Van."

Vandergelt stared after his son, slowly shaking his head. "I just don't know what gets into that boy sometimes," he declared.

"Me either," Bret said, but he was only half-listening. Something still wasn't right; he just knew it.

"Well, this must be that Tolliver character's house," Vandergelt said after they had turned onto another street and walked to the corner. "There aren't any other houses comparable in size."

"That's his style, alright," Bret agreed. "He always goes for the biggest and best."

They climbed onto the porch and Bret rang the doorbell. When the door was opened by a stern-faced brute, Bret shrank back out of self-preservation.

Vandergelt took over the talking duties. "We're here to see Mr. Tolliver," he announced. "I'm John Vandergelt the Second and this is my lawyer, Mr. Bret."

The thug nodded without recognition. "The boss is in," he said. "Go down that hall to the door at the end."

"Thank you." Vandergelt marched past and down the corridor, Bret right on his heels.

I've got to be grateful that Snakes has different men in every city, Bret gulped. Otherwise that guy would've picked me out.

Vandergelt knocked when they arrived at the door in question. "Come in," called a voice that was all too familiar to Bret. As Vandergelt opened the door, Bret silently prayed that Snakes wouldn't let on that they knew each other. Things were already awkward enough.

Snakes was sitting at his desk when the doors opened. "Mr. Vandergelt," he greeted. "I heard you were coming." He got up and came around the desk to shake the man's hand. As he did, Bret came into view. Snakes went absolutely rigid.

"Good evening, Mr. Tolliver," Bret drawled. "I'm Mr. Vandergelt's lawyer, Mr. Bret. We came right out to talk about the situation with the young Mr. Vandergelt. We've got some information right here that should change the picture quite a bit."

"Yeah?" Snakes regarded him warily. "Shut the door."

Bret complied. "If you'll just sit back down at your desk, I'll show you what I dug up going through our acquired companies' records."

Snakes walked back across the room. "Mr. Bret, you say," he said, unable to fully keep the sneer out of his voice.

"That's right," Bret said.

If Vandergelt noticed anything odd in their exchanges, he didn't speak of it. "Your boss wanted several of the Vandergelt businesses in exchange for leaving my son alone," he said. "My lawyer tells me that's impossible."

Bret nodded. "If you'll look right here," he said, taking out the document Vandergelt had personally drawn up, "you'll see that Mr. Vandergelt doesn't actually own those businesses after all. It's the previous owner who still owned them. And he's dead now, God rest his soul. With no heirs, all those businesses reverted back to the state. Or they did, anyway, until they were bought up at auction by these corporations here."

Snakes looked at the made-up names. "And just how did news of all this stay out of the papers?" he asked. "This is big stuff."

"Well, there's no fault on the part of Mr. Vandergelt," Bret said, lowering the eyeglasses. "He bought all of these companies in good faith. These other companies here . . ." He pulled out another document and pointed to a line. "They claimed to be the rightful owners and everything seemed to be in order when we checked it out. It was only then that Mr. Vandergelt bought them."

"But now we've learned that those companies were never the rightful owners," Vandergelt said. "It was an elaborate and well-planned swindle!"

Snakes leaned back, lacing his fingers. "It all seems pretty convenient," he said, "that all of this would come to light right when my boss wants your businesses."

"But you see, we were looking into what we'd have to do in order to hand them over," Vandergelt said. "We likely wouldn't have learned about this error for some time had we not done that! Someone in the company has been furthering the farce and including those businesses' revenue on our accounts, just as though we actually do own them!" He looked at Snakes with genuine agony; neither he nor Bret knew that this had actually been Snakes' idea to begin with. "Please, contact your boss and let her know of the situation!"

Snakes gave a slow nod. "I guess I could do that. I'll have one of my men run down to the telegraph office and wire her right now. But let me tell you, she is not gonna be happy about this."

"Well, neither are we, Mr. Tolliver," Bret said smoothly. "We were hoping we could clear everything up nice and easy. We don't want poor Mr. Vandergelt's son in danger any more. We were willing to cooperate about the businesses in question, until we found that we really don't have any legal claim on them after all."

"I'll make sure to tell her that," Snakes said. "And I'll ask her if I can call off the attempts to get hold of your son." He looked to Vandergelt, who noticeably relaxed in relief.

"I'd be most grateful," said Vandergelt. "What do we do in the meantime?"

"Go to the hotel and get a couple of rooms," Snakes directed. "I'll let you know when I hear back."

Bret smiled, touching the brim of his hat. "We'll do that, Mr. Tolliver. Right away. You've been more than fair with us." He gathered up the documents and backed up towards the door.

"Yeah," Snakes grunted. "I have."

He waited until they'd left before growling to himself, "So much for Virginia City. This really throws a whole new fly in the ointment. I wonder if Beau knows." He scratched out the promised telegram and stood to find someone to send it.

xxxx

Beau groaned as he slumped into the bed of the connecting room at the hotel. "What a day. What a long and terrible day."

"Oh, it wasn't that bad, was it?" said Jack from the doorway as he loosened his ascot.

Beau looked over at him. "Cousin Bret is here."

"Yes, I know." Jack half-turned. "I hated to leave him in the dark about things, but I couldn't see my way clear to letting him know the truth, at least out in the open."

"Same here." Beau sat up. "But what on Earth was he doing here anyway?!"

"Well, he was with my father, so my guess is that Father contacted him for help since he's my friend," Jack said.

"That makes sense." Beau sighed. "It never even occurred to me that might happen."

"If it makes you feel any better, it never occurred to me either," Jack replied.

Beau suddenly stiffened. "Something else just occurred to me. Your Father will be coming to the hotel. He's probably going to want this connecting room. He'll be told at the front desk it's vacant."

Jack frowned. "That is a problem. You really can't go anywhere else in the hotel. I suppose if he comes up to claim this room, we'll have to tell him the truth."

"Naturally we would," said Beau. "And Cousin Bret too."

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive," Lydia remarked as she came over to the doorway. "I knew this plan was madness!"

"Well, it kept your husband safe and free today," Beau said. "And if the rest of our plan works, it will keep him that way indefinitely."

"And that's the most important thing, isn't it?" Jack rejoined.

"Of course it is." Lydia hugged Jack from behind. "I'm just worried that it's all going to backfire on you both!"

"Frankly, so are we," said Beau.

"Speak for yourself," said Jack. "Nothing's happened that can't be fixed."

"Sure, for now," Beau retorted. "What about later?"

"We'll worry about later when it happens," Jack said.

Usually Beau was inclined to agree. Right now, he wondered if that was the best policy.

xxxx

Lucrece Posey sat at her desk in her special headquarters, crafting a diagram of what her criminal empire would be like once she added the Vandergelt businesses to the list. Her eyes glimmered with anticipation and greed. She knew how businesses worked and she knew the numbers these companies could potentially bring. If Snakes could handle that one oh so simple task, she should have everything in the palm of her hand within the week.

A shadow fell across the doorway and she looked up. "What is it, Pinto?"

Little Pinto, who stood six feet tall and always carried his trusty roping lariat, strolled into the room with a piece of paper. "Telegram, Lucrece." He was the only one allowed to call her by her first name.

Lucrece reached for it. "From Snakes?"

"Yeah. It's bad news." Pinto frowned, watching her read it. He knew she would be disappointed and upset.

Her eyes scanned the telegram. She almost wanted to burn through it with sheer force of will alone. "So. Someone else owns these businesses." She set the paper down on her desk.

"Maybe. Seems kind of funny, this turning up right now." Pinto turned the lasso in his hands. "If you want, Lucrece, I'll run up there and see what's going on. Snakes never can handle anything himself."

"Oh, stop it. He's been quite successful collecting towns along the Mississippi River." Lucrece stood. "And this could be legitimate. They would have to investigate the current status of their businesses before turning anything over to me. They could have easily enough discovered this then, just as Snakes says." She walked around the desk. "You'll go to Bent Spoon, Pinto, but I'm coming with you."

Pinto's eyes flickered with pleasure. Even so, he said, "Are you sure, Lucrece? It shouldn't be too hard to handle this."

"I want to be there personally. That isn't going to be a problem for you, is it?" She looked up at him.

"Oh no." Pinto smiled. "Not a problem at all."

"Good," said Lucrece as she brushed past him. "We're leaving on the next stage. Pack whatever you're planning to bring."

"Will do," said Pinto, strolling off in the opposite direction.