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CHAPTER 22

      IT WAS late afternoon. The gray day had darkened and lamps were already lit. Tom Amhearst pushed open the door to the First Bank of the Platte and walked inside to the sound of the spring-mounted bell.

      The clerk looked up from his books, his pen poised. Amhearst ignored him and lifted the hinged section of the counter and walked through to the back where he saw Weitnaur seated at a table in his office, clumsily pawing through a stack of papers with his left hand while his bandaged right hand hovered above them uncertainly.

      "I thought I'd find some girl on your lap, instead you're playing with paper again," Amhearst said.

      Weitnaur stood up. "Hello, Tom, what brings you to Denver?" He looked over Amhearst's shoulder. "It's all right, Jacob."

      Amhearst looked behind him and saw the clerk dropping the barrel of rifle. "Didn't you see my star?" he asked indignantly. "Besides being a lawman, I'm Alex's dearest friend."

      The clerk turned and went back down the hall.

      "I am your friend, Alex," Amhearst continued, closing the door and sinking into a chair before the table. "I've come to make you rich and get out from under the thumb of our friend Frank Nugent."

      Suddenly suspicious, Weitnaur sat down. "How do you propose doing that?"

      "It's already happening. I tell you, Alex, that man you send to kill Frank has got us in a pickle, but in the long run it's best for us."

      Weitnaur looked puzzled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

      "Purdy."

      "Purdy? Why he's no gunman, he's a rich easterner, Frank and I ran into at the Palace."

      "That's not the way I heard it. I had my deputy search his room, and he found papers and a badge saying Purdy was a deputy marshal from Nebraska. So I questioned him and it turns out Purdy killed that deputy marshal and took his papers. Purdy is really a hired gun, and he came to kill our old pal."

      Amhearst leaned forward and pinned Weitnaur with his eyes. "Of course, he wouldn't reveal the man who hired him by name — that wouldn't be right for an honorable man, like he pretends he is. But, honor or not, he sold out to Nugent and told him you and I and Hopper were all in it. So Nugent sent Gaines and Watson after us."

      "What happened?"

      "I got Watson, and Euc killed Gaines — so that's two people we won't be splitting up the money with."

      Weitnaur's face had grown pale. "I thought Purdy was what he said!" Then he stared at his broken fingers. "He could have been the masked man who came in and robbed me and busted my hand. Or maybe it was somebody he was workin' for — or himself."

      Amhearst considered it. "There's no question the man's a liar and can't be trusted. But he sure got the ball rolling for us."

      "So it's finally happened!" Weitnaur said. "So it's the three of us against Nugent . . . pretty good odds."

      "Except Purdy is probably on his side now," amhearst agreed. "But there is something that bothers me. Last night I saw Frank's Chinaman riding hard in this direction on one of Frank's best horses. I think Nugent sent him to raise men to come back and help him."

      "What kind of men could a Chinaman raise?"

      "Chinamen, of course. He's probably meeting with the Tong now, to raise up a pack of them!"

      "We'll be outnumbered."

      "Not necessarily, old friend. You and me are going to get some men of our own to take 'em all on. Meanwhile, the two of us will kill off the others and split the holdings. Got it?"

      Weitnaur stared. "Have you no loyalty to Frank?

      "Have you?"

      "Of course I do."

      "You've been stealing from him for years, as we all have. Maybe this last robbery you had was real, but the others were just a way of stealing even more. Don't talk to me about loyalty."

      Weitnaur was silent for a long time. At last he said, "How would we go about hiring men to help us?

      Amhearst said, "All it takes is money."

      "And you want me to supply that?"

      "Of course. But I don't suggest that you use our money to do it — isn't it fitting to use Nugent's own money to bring him down."

      Weitnaur thought a moment. "There's a man named Fraser who does work for some of the mine owners in Central City and over in Leadville. He'll bust unions, even kill people if he's paid enough. I believe he could do the job."

      "Can he be trusted, or will he offer Nugent his services for a higher price, like that damned Purdy?"

      "Oh, he's dependable all right — but his help doesn't come cheap."

      Amhearst smiled. "We can afford it. We are men of substance. We have a bank."

      Weitnaur flinched.

      Fraser's office on Wyncoop Street was as Spartan as a camp tent, except for a wall of glass-fronted oak bookcases that held mostly military titles. On the wall behind his big desk were only two pictures, one of George Washington, and another a photograph of a young Union officer looking flushed with victory. It took Amhearst a moment to realize that the young officer was Fraser, now grown stringy and thin with a long sad face.

      Amhearst and Weitnaur were not alone in the room with him. Two other men wearing guns stood at the far end of the room watching. There were others in an outer office making sure there were no intruders.

      They drank coffee while they discussed what Fraser called "Your delicate matter."

      Amhearst described the trouble that was brewing in Tres Marias. A despot named Frank Nugent (a name Fraser knew) had enlisted the lawless Tong to fight the miners, and he had killed some of Amhearst's and Weitnaur's dearest friends. Nugent had hired an insane blood-thirsting gunman named Purdy to make war on every decent person in Tres Marias.

      "We want twenty men," Amhearst said. "Men experienced with guns who are willing use them."

      Fraser listened carefully. He didn't ask why Amhearst, who wore a sheriff's badge, didn't clean out the mess himself, or seek the available help of other law enforcement agencies in the state. He sat there and listened, a model businessman, except for the loaded revolver within easy reach on top of his desk.

      "All of my men are combat veterans," Fraser said quietly. "They are resourceful, tough, intelligent men who will accomplish what you want. Most have other employment, but they have teamed up with me for the excitement. And the money."

      "We'll only need them two or three days," Weitnaur said.

      "I charge by the day. Minimum — seven full days. How soon do you want them?

      "If they can leave tomorrow — I'm going back up there in the morning," Amhearst said.

      "They'll be ready at dawn," Fraser said. "The need for my services often comes suddenly. My fee for twenty men for the first week will be $10,000."

      Weitnaur's intake of breath was audible. He looked as though he was going to walk out of the room, but Amhearst froze him with a stare.

      "Sounds all right to me," Amhearst said.

      "No, no," Weitnaur said. "That's too much!"

      "How much will you spend?" Fraser asked coldly.

      "I'll go five thousand."

      Fraser rapped his desk with a bony knuckle. "Very well, five thousand it is — that'll buy the services of nine men."

      Amhearst looked at Weitnaur angrily. "Then you'll have to come with me, Alex. I'm not fighting with only nine men while you sit on your fat ass at the bank counting your money."

      Weitnaur thought it over. "Fifteen men for $7,000?"

      "Fourteen," said Fraser.

      "All right with you, Amhearst?"

      "Yes. Five extra men ought to make up for your wonderful presence, Alex."

      "Their leader will be Nathaniel Travis, one of my best man," Fraser said. "You will deal with him, and he'll choose the way to expedite your orders. I suggest you follow his advice. He has my highest confidence."

      He leaned back in his chair and smiled at them. "Payment, of course, in advance. If you want your men tomorrow, I must have the money tonight."

      "You'll have my word, isn't that enough?" Weitnaur said.

      "No sir, I'm sorry, but it is not. My customers must always pay in advance," Fraser said blandly. "Nor can I promise you victory. I only promise that my men will fight well."

      "Let's go get the money, Alex." Amhearst squeezed the portly banker's shoulder hard and guided him to the door. He turned and said, "Good men, Fraser. We're up against a powerful enemy."

      Fraser smiled at him but said nothing.

      When they were gone he turned to one of the men in the room. "Alfie, find Travis and sober him up so he can ride tomorrow. And dig up 13 other men who can ride horses without falling off, and who know which end of a gun the bullet comes out of. Tell them they're to do guard duty at a mine. Offer them $25 a day.

      "They'd die for that," Alfie said, heading for the door.

      "They may have to," Fraser said indifferently.

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