“It’s comforting to know that you’re so worried about my investments, Steve.”
He stood up, a slight smile slanting his mouth. “If you’re planning on calling in Durant or Gould, you might want to be certain that President Díaz will allow you to continue mining ore, Senator.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a big problem. I have become acquainted with Díaz, and I find him to be quite agreeable.”
“If he learns that you intend to remove silver and not pay him his share, he won’t be quite so agreeable, I can assure you of that. But take your own chances, Senator. You have been warned.”
“I trust you would do nothing to interfere, Morgan. I have told you that I knew nothing about your being at the Galena until I saw you that day.”
Steve recognized the angry frustration in Brandon’s eyes. He held up the unlit cigar he’d been given. “Thanks for the cigar, Senator. I’m leaving town tonight, but Ginny will be here for a while. I’m sure you’ll want to visit.”
He left, smiling when he heard Brandon cursing as the door slammed shut behind him. That should give him something to think about for a few days, Steve thought.
Within an hour, he and Paco left San Antonio.
Heat shimmered from flat expanses of brush-studded hills, closing in like a heavy fist on the riders. The Rio Grande was behind them as they left Texas and crossed into Chihuahua. Their eventual destination was the capital city, El Paso del Norte, that lay to the northwest.
“Brandon will never be able to finish what he started,” Paco said flatly when they paused beneath the welcome shade of a scrub oak. Rugged hills and canyons stretched red-and-dun folds on each side, high crags gnawing at the horizon like jagged teeth. “Getting rails laid through Copper Canyon will be impossible.”
“I don’t think that’s his main goal.” Steve squinted against the glare of the sun, drew a shirtsleeve across his brow to wipe away the sweat stinging his eyes. “He wants to get his ore to a seaport, and rails are the quickest method of transport. It’s all a cover. He doesn’t give a damn about laying tracks anywhere else.”
“Then the government funding—”
“Will be used for his own private enterprise, is my guess. Thomas Durant is an old crony of his, associated with innumerable accusations of bribery, fraud and scandal, from the president on down through the halls of Congress. He and Senator Brandon make a good team, acquiring venture capital at the expense of everyone else.”
“So how is Brandon going to get his ore to the U.S. without the railroad?” Paco hefted a skin of water to squirt a stream into his mouth before offering it to Steve, then held it out. “By pack mule?”
“Maybe. You know what Copper Canyon’s like, and the country is just as rough going around it. He can take his ore across the border into Arizona, even Texas, but either way, he risks running into Federales always on the watch. It’s my guess when he’s run rails as far as he can, he’ll pack it out of the Sierras to a seaport. With Durant’s help, he’ll end up getting the ore out of Mexico more efficiently, and both men will make enormous profits at the expense of the Mexican government and politicians.”
“What about Terranzos?”
“Right now the governor has his own problems worrying about his future since Díaz came to power. We have to worry more about Gould and Durant providing capital to the senator for his Mexican railroad.”
“Durant—we met him with Murdock out in California, right?”
“He’s an acquaintance of Murdock, but not an affiliate. Sam Murdock prefers not to maintain close association with men identified with virtually every accusation of scandal connected to railroad construction. Durant is as dirty as Senator Brandon, and as adroit at escaping consequences for his actions. With politicians like Brandon behind him, he’ll continue to get wealthier while the people he exploits go out of business.”
“Politics is a bare knuckle kind of fight,” Paco said as he rolled a cigarette with one hand, his leg hooked over the horn of his saddle. “Too rough for me. I’d rather face a band of screamin’ Apache than a roomful of diamond studs and bowlers.”
“At least the Apache make no bones about wanting your scalp. Men like the senator and Durant are sneaky about it.”
“So what are the chances of Brandon getting his silver overland to the coast?”
“I’d say they were damned good. No one’s around to stop him.”
“Except you.”
“Yeah.” Steve nudged his mount into a walk. “Except me.”
“What will you tell Ginny?”
Steve was quiet for a moment, the only sound that of hooves scrabbling on hard rock, the smell of dust and baking earth pungent and suffocating as they left the shade and rode into hot, searing sunlight.
“Hell,” he said finally, “she can figure out what kind of man Brandon is. It’s pretty obvious. And she knows that he’s not above cheating or lying to get what he wants. Only now, she doesn’t honey-coat it with some fantasy of noble intentions, but sees it as it is—pure greed. If she gets angry at my interference, she’ll get over it.”
“She sure didn’t like being left in San Antonio.”
“With Ginny, protest is as natural as breathing. She liked it well enough. She’s safe there, staying with Renaldo and Missie, and can shop and go to the theater anytime she wants. I think she was relieved to be in a civilized town again, but just wouldn’t admit it.”
Paco laughed. “You might be bankrupt by the time we get back to San Antone….”
Ginny was, in fact, having a fine time. It was a relief to be in a real bed again, with clean sheets that smelled of sunlight and soap instead of bedbugs and lice, and a feather mattress that actually cushioned her aching muscles instead of the
