Red West II.

Chapter twenty four - Messenger

Three ice cubes, already slowly melting, clanked as Lieutenant Governor put the glass aside on the wide windowsill, letting the bittersweet liquid find its way through his throat down to the stomach, where it spread all over with calming warmness. A half-open window allowed the pleasantly cool air to infiltrate his office, which was a little overheated to his taste. He could also hear loud shouts of the errand boy in front of the Brown Palace hotel, who stood at the foot of the main stairs and kept forcing the newest issue of 'The Denver Post' to hands of each guest passing by.

"Dozens of outlaws on the run! Black Riders stroke again! Reward for any useful information increased!"

With quite a satisfaction, Horace observed the people stopping on the street, reading the newspapers and discussing the recent events. The excited and outraged atmosphere ruled over Denver. Everybody wanted to share their opinion with others, and those discussions were not positive towards the Riders at all.

Tabor stepped away from the window and poured himself another drink from the rich mini-bar. Those naive Riders played right into his cards with that crazy ambush. They turned most of Colorado against themselves even without much of his interference. The more upset the citizens were, the smaller chance for those criminals to slip between his fingers was. As things were going, soon everyone would want to capture them even without any reward.

No matter that it was impossible to find out whom they wanted to get out of the mine, because they definitely did – Tabor could imagine no other reason for them to care about that place – the outcome in overall was positive. Though he had to admit his profits from the so-called Cursed Mine were really significant and thanks to that over-motivated Sheriff he was cut off from it. Not to mention a couple of sniffling reporters and local authorities, who dared to come and ask him questions. Somebody talked, and he would need to find out who that was – to make an example out of that person.

Horace didn't like the idea of great decrease in his incomes, but if one of the consequences would be having the Riders or at least their leader in chains, it was a small price for the reduction of all those troubles they caused him. Moreover, Duggan and that haughty bounty hunter reported some progress and he expected them to contact him again soon, supposedly with more than good news. The invisible loop around the gang gradually tightened and he was sure that just a little more patience would bring the expected results.

A light knock disturbed Tabor's thoughts and he turned toward his servant curiously; he didn't expect any visitors.

"My apologies, sir, but a certain Captain Walker is here, asking for reception," the black servant announced.

Today is a good day, Tabor thought. It seemed that the US Army finally decided to pay an attention to his constant requests for backup to the local Marshals, who, at least according to his opinion, were a bunch of useless idiots.

"Let him in," he beckoned, heading to the spot in front of his table to welcome the captain.

The uniformed man, who entered his office, was tall, fair-haired, recently shaved, with the sharp eyes and he was younger than Tabor had anticipated, no more than thirty five years.

"Welcome, Captain," he shook with the man's hand. "Have a seat."

"I'll rather stand, if you don't mind, sir. I've had enough hours of sitting already," the man reacted in a tired voice, but still politely.

"A long trip?" Governor asked.

"Very."

"Serve yourself then... I'm pleased you've arrived finally, Captain Walker."