As I followed the anxious man into the Teller House, I saw two men standing at the counter with the desk clerk. “Mister Barnes, here read this! It’s for you! The President ain’t a-comin’!” he yelled, rushing toward the men at the counter with his hand stretched out holding the telegram.
“What? That can’t be!” exclaimed the man who I took to be Barnes. “Let me see that.”
I stood just inside the doorway to watch the grimace on the face of Barnes as he read the telegram. His face told it all. Wadding up the telegram he clenched his fist. “I’ll sue. I cleared out the hotel for the President and his entourage. Also cleared several rooms for the newspaper reporters.”
The man standing next to Barnes reached to pick the crumpled paper from his hand. He straightened it out the best he could and began to read. “Trouble at the Denver Station — STOP — torn up rail in the canyon — STOP — travel not safe, President returning to Washington.”
I walked up to the men standing there. “Guess they’re mighty cautious since the assassination of Garfield. Don’t blame them none, there’re many who think that the President is following too closely to Garfield’s policies.”
The men all turned to look at me. “And who might you be?” questioned Barnes.
“I’m Deputy United States Marshal, Miles Forrest. I was sent here to be somewhat undercover for the arrival of the President,” I informed them. None of them offered a hand. I sort of got the feeling that the two hotel men were a mite uppity. At least the clerk gave somewhat of a smile, and the telegraph man nodded at me. I didn’t want to feel badly toward the man, but sometimes it’s good to see arrogance reduced. Humility is a mighty good thing at times.
Barnes completely ignored me, turning to the clerk with a snarl. “Henderson, go get my lawyer! I want to see if there’s grounds to sue the President.” He then took the telegram from his partner’s hand and strode off toward a room that I took to be his office followed by the man.
“You goin’ back to your office?” I asked the telegraph clerk. “I need to contact Marshal Blasco.”
He nodded then took off with me following. The streets were crowded and there were many onlookers gathered at the entrance to the hotel. Word would get around fast, there would be some grumbling, but then people would go on with their lives and work. The town was prosperous, and while the President would bring business, they would soon go back to normal, not thinking any more about it. The miners cared little anyway; it was mostly the city elite and politicians that were appalled that they could not hobnob with the President.
I’m sure Blasco knew of the situation. I just needed to hear what he wanted me to do now. It was a nice trip. Molly hadn’t been away from Durango for some time and it was good to get away with her for a spell. I told the operator that I would check back later to see if there was a reply, then decided to go up Main to Cecil’s for a cup of coffee. There was nothing for me to do now.
Walking up the street I was across from the Silver Slipper and saw the three men I tangled with earlier standing around. When I passed them they started following me, staying across the street. I didn’t want any more trouble with them, so I tried to ignore them as I continued on my way. As I neared Cecil’s one crossed the street now walking behind me. I reached down under my jacket to remove the leather loop from off the hammer of my pistol.
I had a feeling this was going to get ugly…