Free The Shopkeeper by James D. Best

blurted, “What happened?”

    “Somebody shot him. He was just sitting peacefully on his porch, smoking a cigar, and the next thing he’s dead.” Richard looked petrified. “Steve, he was killed at long range.”

    “Sprague?”

    Richard wiped his brow. “That would be my bet.”

    “How did you hear about it?”

    “Telegraph from Carson City. Sent to all the editors in the state.”

    I sat in thought. The telegram I had been reading came from the circuit judge I had tried to lure to my side with a bigger bribe. He declined to meet with me, pleading that crucial cases would keep him in Carson City for the foreseeable future. The Pinkertons should have arrived two days ago, but I had not seen hide nor hair of them. Last, an emissary from the Washburn empire had delivered checks drawn on a Denver bank that brought his mortgage payments current. When I queried by telegram, the Denver bank responded that they would not confirm the account balances until the checks were presented for settlement. Despite immediately sending a rider, over a week would go by before I discovered if the checks were good.

    Washburn had crashed right through my supposed envelopment of his empire. The realization shattered my confidence like a pick slamming into a block of ice. He had moved fast, but the most worrisome part was how easily he had upset my plans. I looked at Richard, and his face showed the fear I felt. “Why do you suppose Sprague went after Bolton instead of me?”

    “I don’t know, but I sure wouldn’t assume that you’re off the list.”

    I thought a minute. “Perhaps I am off the list, at least for the time being. Without Bolton as governor, our power is diminished, and Washburn can deal with us after the election.” A new thought struck me. “Damn … he’ll save a pile of money in an uncontested race.”

    “Ya think he’ll let us live?”

    Richard looked hopeful, and I hated to disappoint him. I patted him on the forearm. “Only for a respectable period after the election.” I waited a beat. “Unless we make more trouble. Then he might hurry things.”

    Richard’s face regained that frightened look. “What are ya going to do?”

    “Make more trouble.”

    “Steve!” Richard’s eyes pleaded. “Is that wise?”

    “Listen, Richard, our only chance for a long life is to destroy Washburn, and we need the governor’s seat to do that.”

    “Who could possibly run?”

    “That’s my question.”

    Richard took a step back. “Don’t look at me.”

    I laughed at the consternation on Richard’s face. “No, not you. You’re a good man, but you don’t have a big enough reputation to run for governor. We need someone known all over Nevada.” I rocked forward, placed both elbows on my knees, and rested my chin on an overlapped fist. “Who can beat Stevens?” As Richard mulled over the question, I had a sudden thought. “Oh my God!”

    “What?”

    “Jenny’s a widow.”

    Richard gave me an odd look. “Steve, don’t—”

    “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t think of intruding on her grief.” I said this with such an edge that I was afraid it betrayed my feelings.

    “Bradshaw can give Stevens a run.” Richard wanted to change the subject. “He’s the mayor of Carson City, and he’s supported Bolton for years. If he has the courage, he might want to get even with the Washburn crowd.”

    I pushed Jenny from my mind. “A good man?”

    “I thought ya wanted someone who could win.”

    Richard’s answer made me smile. “All right, tell me about him.”

    “He’s a big man in Carson City. He owns the stockyards and supposedly a share of Commerce Bank. He’s also President of the Cattlemen’s Association.”

    “Thus his support for Bolton?”

    “You got it.”

    I thought a minute. “Yesterday you said Commerce was a sound bank that stayed out of politics.”

    “I said they keep a low profile. They don’t leave boot prints. Bradshaw and Commerce both prefer the back room