During the trip to Denver I walked through both cars a couple of times. First, to see if Merker might be on board, and second to give my legs some exercise. It was cold on the train, and my toes were feeling me I sat too long. I went back to check on Star a couple of times. I probably didn’t need to bring him, but felt better knowing that I had my horse with me. Another time, a few years back, I would have rode him home, well, maybe not this time of year.
I think I spotted the two men who boarded that I thought were suspicious. Really don’t know why, just a feeling I had. They were sitting together in the car in front of where I was sitting. There was one other passenger car, but I couldn’t see them as they were private rooms. Hard to believe that this was like a traveling hotel for some.
The plan was to be in Denver only a couple of days. I wanted to see Dave Cook for a little while and figured I could do it after my meeting with Covney. Overall, it was a boring ride. I wasn’t anxious to be heading to Denver and I was a mite anxious about the situation back in Durango. However, the good Lord taught me a long time ago that most of the time my anxieties were for nought. Most came to nothing, and were only magnified by my imagination. Plus the fact that I couldn’t do anything about them.
When the train pulled into the station I was met by McClure. He said that Covney was in meetings and that he was to take me to the Albany Hotel. I waited until they unloaded Star. Tying him behind the carriage we went on downtown to the hotel. It seemed like every time I came to Denver it had grown in size and in the number of people. It was becoming crowded, and modern.
“I can remember my first trip to Denver,” I said to McClure on the ride. “I rode up from a little town called Redemption with Elias Butler. We walked right into a riot of the Chinese faction in the city,” I paused, pulling at my moustache at my nostalgia. McClure hadn’t said anything, but I had his interest. “That’s when we met Dave Cook. We helped him along putting down the riot. After that I took off to work at a ranch in Gunnison and from there just wandered around a few years until I arrived in Durango.”
“Last year, there was payback directed on the Chinese. Several businesses were destroyed; fortunately only one person was killed,” he remarked nonchantly. “There’s been no trouble since then; of course the Chinese don’t come to uptown Denver and the residents of Denver don’t often venture down to China Town.”
Arriving at the Albany I made arrangements for Star to be put in the hotel’s stable and cared for. Since the Service didn’t authorize my bringing him I had to pay the expenses. I had to swallow deeply as I found out it was a dollar a day to board and keep a horse. What is this world coming to with the high prices? I didn’t bother to ask how much a room cost.
As I walked into the hotel I was taken back by its luxury. McClure secured my key for me as I was peering in the dining room. I could have put two of the diners in there. Looking at the furniture and eating tools I was afraid to enter and sit down as I was wearing my traveling clothes. At least I wasn’t coming off the trail smelling like smoke and horse.
McClure came to pick me up a couple hours later to see Covney. I had cleaned up a little, well, put on a clean shirt. I had brought one for this occasion. We didn’t take a carriage, but walked a few blocks down toward the mint. The Secret Service office was just off an annex of the mint.
McClure took me to the office, knocked on a door, and left. I waited, looking at pictures on the walls, and read a little about the place. I didn’t know that this place, what I was calling a mint, was actually a place where they would hold gold and silver for distribution to Philadelphia and New Orleans.
The door opened and Covney welcomed me in. There was another man sitting behind a desk in the room. “Miles,” began Covney, “this is Mister Wesler, head of the Trans-Mississippi Branch of the Secret Service.”
He stood up to shake my hand. He was about my height, with a little paunch. He had a full beard and firm grip, but there was something about him I didn’t like. Perhaps I felt that way toward all bureaucrats.
“Good to meet you, Agent Forrest,” he said, his voice holding no meaning. “Sit down, sit down. First off, I want to tell you that we have Douster all tucked away in case we need his testimony in court. Of course, we have to arrest Merker first. Good job you did there.”
He looked at Covney. “Gilford here, has told me that you’ve been a real asset to the Service and going over your files I agree,” he coughed to clear his voice. “That’s one reason we brought you here. We’re promoting you and sending you to New Orleans,” he said with a large smile.
I looked at him, then over at Covney. “Don’t think so,” I simply said.
Anger built up in his eyes. “Listen Forrest, you work where I send you. You are being reassigned to the New Orleans area.”
Reaching inside my pocket I pulled out my credential and Secret Service badge. “Thank you for the offer, but I decline,” I said as politely as possible. Now I understood the feeling I felt toward the man earlier; arrogance abounded in the man.
“What! You can’t just quit!”
“Seems I just did,” afternoon. “Gilford,” I reached to shake his hand. “If you’re ever in Durango, look me up.” Then I got up and walked out.
As I did I heard, “Why of all the impertinent…”
It was too late to look up Cook, so I thought I’d take a walk around downtown Denver before going back to the hotel. This city was a humdinger back when it started up. I wasn’t here during the gold rush days, but it was a wicked, wild town. I started down Larimer Street, when I noticed…