Paco rejoined them in Chihuahua, finding them in the sala of a small posada in Santa Rosalia near the mineral springs where people went to bathe in the medicinal waters.
“Those Rurales gave me a hard time,” he grumbled when Steve asked what had taken him so long. “Díaz may be getting rid of the bandit problem, but he’ll end up having a bigger problem on his hands unless he keeps a tight grip on his police force. They have too much power, and since most of them are former bandits themselves, they have no scruples.”
“Creating a climate of confidence is el presidente’s way of coaxing in more foreign investment. He hopes to lure European as well as American investors.”
“Hearst is buying up a lot of cattle country. And we know who has invested heavily in mining interests.”
“Yes.” Steve nodded thoughtfully, blue eyes narrowed and hard as he met Paco’s troubled gaze. “I heard rumors that American Smelting and Refining Company will set up ore smelters as soon as the plans are approved. The Galena Mine has laid more track and feeder lines from the mine to the smelters, with plans to join a major railroad.”
“And we know who is behind that, amigo.” Paco sat back in his chair. “Brandon switched loyalties before Lerdo could even reach the Rio Grande. He’s become quite friendly with Díaz now, as well as Hearst. Díaz’s policy of paying foreign employees more than Mexicans for the same work will start trouble before long. And Bishop informed me that el presidente is playing one side against the other by encouraging British and European capital to counterbalance the U.S. investments.”
“I wonder how Brandon is dealing with the possible loss of his profits to British investments?” Steve said dryly. “He intends to dominate the silver market, and he’s close enough to the border to get his ore to the smelters quickly, then get it on the market. He’s managed to do it without a lot of interference by the Mexican government, but I have a feeling that’s about to change.”
Paco laughed softly. “Sí, amigo, I think perhaps his luck is about to run out.”
William Brandon was beginning to think the same thing, and frustration battled with anger as he realized that his son-in-law was behind this most recent turn of fortune. He crumpled the telegram in one fist, eyes smoldering as he regarded the messenger.
“No, there is no reply.”
Damn Steve Morgan! Swiveling around in the leather chair, he leaned back to stare out the window of the office that looked over the San Antonio River. Cottonwood trees thrust bare branches over the slow winding curve of the river. A willow swayed in the wind. It would be spring before long, and he had to get the ore out of Mexico before the rains started in May.
Now, it seemed the new president had been informed of the Galena’s profits and had politely and firmly reminded him he was a guest in the country. A Mexican envoy would be made available immediately to survey the mine and offer any government assistance.
How much did Díaz know? Was he aware that only three months ago Steve Morgan had been a prisoner in the Galena Mine? And that he had killed four guards before their brief rebellion was over? It was not something he wanted known, especially in the United States. If the newspapers got wind of it, they would have a field day with that bit of knowledge. He could see the headlines now if they learned that a United States senator was involved in the operation of a Mexican mine that had imprisoned his own son-in-law. Thanks to influential friends, nothing had yet been leaked, but should a journalist get wind of it…
And now this! It was easy enough to recognize the fine hand of Steve Morgan behind Hill’s withdrawal from the plan to expand a railroad through Mexico. Suddenly, the rights to prime land through one of Hearst’s ranches had been yanked away, access denied. It meant excruciating delay and much higher costs. The country was too rugged in places, the land brutal and almost impossible to lay tracks through. Now he learned that the railroad rights he had thought finalized ran through the ranch that Morgan had purchased from Hearst. To go around could take months, time he didn’t have.
How long before Díaz increased his discreet taxation on the silver production? Already, the governor of Chihuahua had been ousted, Terrazas having supported the erstwhile president instead of the victor.
Disgruntled, Brandon heaved himself up from his chair. Perhaps it was time to compose a telegram. Jay Gould and Dr. Thomas Durant were both influential men who knew how to get things done. And they weren’t squeamish about crushing their opponents when necessary.
Steve Morgan would soon realize he had gotten in over his head. He may be ruthless, but he was a mercenary more than a businessman. He would never be able to withstand the combined forces of three of the most powerful men in all of America.
It had taken over a month for production to improve at the mine after Steve’s interference. But Luna was responsible for that fiasco! It had nearly caused an international incident with Spain, but Luna’s untimely—or timely, if one chose to see it that way—death in a mysterious fire had put a swift end to the problem.
Odd affair, that, Brandon mused; a fire in some remote village in the mountains killing the man so conveniently. It was almost too convenient. Why was it that Morgan seemed to attract coincidences far too often?
It couldn’t be just coincidence that he and Virginia had disappeared right after Luna’s death, nor that railroad rights had abruptly been blocked immediately after Steve escaped from incarceration in the Galena.
Damn Luna…he’d warned him to be careful even while approving of his plan to get Steve out of
