Chapter Twenty-two
What now? John Henry asked himself as he turned around. The man who had spoken his name didn’t sound particularly threatening, so he didn’t reach for his gun, but he kept his hand near the Colt’s butt anyway.
John Henry immediately recognized one of the three gents he had noticed in the hotel dining room the previous evening. The man was tall, with a stiff stance, iron-gray hair, and a neatly clipped mustache. When he’d seen them in the dining room, John Henry had pegged this one as possibly being Jason True, Judge Parker’s old friend.
“I’m Sixkiller,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to have a word with you,” the man said. “In private.” He looked over at Bouchard. “Do you have a room we can use?”
“Of course, Mr. True,” Bouchard answered, confirming John Henry’s hunch. “There’s a private room we sometimes use for high-stakes games.”
That was appropriate, John Henry thought. With $75,000 worth of gold bullion involved, those were sure enough high stakes.
“That’ll do fine,” True said, his voice about as stiff as his backbone appeared to be. As a rich mine owner, he probably didn’t like having to ask a favor of a mere saloon keeper. He added to John Henry, “If that’s agreeable to you.”
“Sure,” John Henry said easily. He was curious to hear what Jason True wanted to say to him.
The three men drew quite a few interested looks as they crossed the room to a door Bouchard opened. The chamber on the other side of the door was dark, but Bouchard stepped in ahead of John Henry and True and struck a match to light a pair of oil lamps in wall sconces, one on each side of the room.
The room was windowless and well furnished, John Henry saw in the glow of the lamps. In its center was a poker table covered with green felt and surrounded by comfortable chairs. A well-upholstered sofa sat on the other side of the room, beyond the table. A pair of armchairs were to the right, with a small round table between them, and to the left was a sideboard where drinks could be prepared. Brass cuspidors tucked into the corners gleamed in the lamplight.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to play a few hands while you’re having your talk,” Bouchard said. “I could fetch a new deck, and I’d be glad to deal.”
“I don’t gamble with cards,” True snapped, leaving the impression that he confined his gambling to other things.
“Fine.” Bouchard shifted the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “In that case, I’ll leave you gentlemen alone. Let me know if you need anything.”
When Bouchard was gone, True motioned to the armchairs. John Henry sat down in one of them and balanced his hat on his knee.
“We haven’t been introduced,” True said. “My name is Jason True. I own the San Francisco Mine.”
“John Henry Sixkiller,” John Henry said. “But you already know that.”
“I suspect that just about everyone in Purgatory knows who you are, Mr. Sixkiller,” True said, which wasn’t the first time John Henry had heard that sentiment expressed. “You’ve cut quite a wide swath through the town since your arrival yesterday.”
“That wasn’t exactly my intention.”
“Our intentions in life usually have very little to do with what actually happens.”
“That’s true,” John Henry said. “I doubt if you wanted to discuss philosophy with me, though, Mr. True.”
“No, I’m here to talk about gold,” True said. “Specifically, the shipment that will be held in the bank here for Wells Fargo in a few days’ time. I spoke to Joe Cravens a short time ago, and he told me that he’s hired you to help guard that gold.”
John Henry nodded and said, “That’s right. We came to that agreement.”
“Cravens should have consulted with me and the other mine owners before he offered you that job,” True said with anger in his voice.
“I guess he figured that it’s his bank.”
“Yes, but it’s our gold. And we don’t know you, Sixkiller. We don’t know you from Adam. All we know for sure is that you’re fast with a gun.”
“And reasonably accurate with it, too,” John Henry said with a faint smile, “since I’m still alive and two other fellas aren’t.”
“I don’t hold with bragging about killing,” True snapped.
“I’m not bragging, just stating a fact.” John Henry paused, then said, “Look, I understand your reservations, Mr. True. Like you said, you don’t know me. You don’t have any reason to trust me. But look at it this way: I’m going to be inside the bank, and all those guards you and your friends have hired will be outside. I’ve seen the safe where the gold’s going to be stored. I can’t carry it off. I couldn’t budge it. And if I got it open, I couldn’t carry but a small fraction of the bullion inside it.”
“I suppose that’s true. But I still don’t like it.”
“You and the other mine owners are going in together to hire guards to bring the gold down from the mountains, right?”
True grimaced and said, “Did Cravens tell you everything about our plans?” He waved off the question before John Henry could answer it. “Yes, we’re hiring guards, as many of them as we can. Good, tough men.”
“Do you know each and every one of them?”
True hesitated for a second before replying, “Well . . . no. Some of them were recommended by guards that we’ve used in the past.”
“So you have to trust them.”
“I suppose you could look at it like that.”
“Mr. Cravens trusts me,” John Henry said.
“Only because you saved him from two of Billy Ray Gilmore’s ruffians!”
“It’s as good a reason as any, I guess.”
True frowned at John Henry for a long moment before he said, “Very well. You make a good point. But you should be fully aware of this, Mr. Sixkiller . . . if you double-cross us and cause us to lose that gold, I’ll have you hunted down and brought to justice if it takes every penny I have.”
“Fair enough,” John Henry said. “When’s the gold coming down?”
True didn’t answer right away. John Henry began to think that he wasn’t going to. But finally, Jason True said, “The day after tomorrow.”
John Henry couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice as he said, “That soon.”
“Yes. We’ll be ready to put our plan into operation by then. We’ll start early in the morning, and it’ll take all day to get the bullion from all three mines into the bank. Wells Fargo will have armored wagons here the next morning to pick it up and transport it to Lordsburg under heavy guard.”
“So the bank will have to keep it safe overnight.”
“That’s right.”
John Henry scratched at his jaw and frowned in thought.
“What’s to stop Gilmore from hitting the bank during the day, after the first shipment gets here? That would still be a big haul for him and his gang.”
“Not as big as if he waited until all three shipments are there. But of course, there’s no way to be sure how the mind of a bandit is going to work.”
“And your guards are going to be busy taking care of the other two shipments,” John Henry mused. “That would be a good time to hit the bank.”
“We’ll have some men on hand during the day,” True said. “And there’s you.”
John Henry chuckled.
“Yeah. There’s me.”
True leaned back in the armchair and regarded him with an intent gaze for several seconds.
“You seem sincere,” the mine owner finally admitted. “Perhaps you really are an honest man.”
“I’d like to think so.”
John Henry knew he could set True’s mind at ease and erase all the man’s suspicions instantly if he just revealed that he’d been sent here by Judge Parker in answer to True’s request for help. But so far no one in Purgatory knew who he really was, and John Henry wanted to keep it that way. His ability to play the different factions against each other, if that’s what he wound up needing to do, depended on his real purpose here remaining a secret.
Jason True stood up and said, “Just remember what I said about having you hunted down if you betray us. I meant every word of it.”
“I imagine you mean just about everything you say,” John Henry replied as he got to his feet as well.
For the first time, a hint of a smile appeared on True’s face. He extended his hand and said, “I certainly do.”
John Henry grasped the mine owner’s hand. True gave him a firm shake and a nod, and then left the room.
John Henry waited a moment and then followed him out. Quite a few furtive looks were sent in his direction. People knew he had been in that room talking to one of the richest, most powerful men in these parts, and naturally they were curious about what had gone on between them.
Bouchard waved John Henry over to the saloon keeper’s private table. He asked, “You and Mr. True get everything hashed out?”
“Maybe,” John Henry said. “I got the feeling he thought I might be an outlaw who’s after his gold.”
“Well, you could be,” Bouchard said with a grin. “None of us around here really know any better, do we?”
“I reckon that’s right. But don’t I have a trustworthy face?”
“Shakespeare said that a man can smile and smile, and still be a villain,” Bouchard pointed out. “In fact, there’s a good example of that coming in right now.”
John Henry glanced at the entrance and saw Billy Ray Gilmore pushing his way through the bat wings.