Charlie and I met with Wallace, the president of the bank, along with two of the major mine managers. I suggested that they send out notices to hire a city marshal and a town doctor. I didn’t think they would have much problem filling either position, but they would have to be careful with the character of the marshal. Many mining communities have been swindled and held hostage by an unscrupulous marshal.
The only one of the three I knew was Jakub Brewlinski. He and I went back as far as when I worked for Wells Fargo–a good man, tough, honest, and dependable. Chadwick Morgan was the other manager in attendance and I had never met him before. My contact with Wallace was only casual.
Jakub was nodding his head in agreement with me when Wallace blurted out, “I’ve already taken action to secure a marshal,” he paused, swallowing before continuing, “at least temporarily.”
That took the four of us by surprise. I guess it was within his right as Silverton didn’t have a city council or commission. Things happened and changed so fast that there was hesitation on the part of many to have such a structure. The big mine owners through their managers usually took charge.
Wallace glanced quickly at Charlie then over to me. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate what you two have been doing, but we know the Sheriff can’t stay here forever, and I hear that you, Forrest are leaving this week,” he spluttered. “We need action now, so I contacted a man in Denver and he’s agreed to be marshal.”
I turned my head slightly toward Charlie, then Jakub spoke up. “This man have a name?”
Wallace sort of ducked his head, but then lifted it and thrust out his chest like a rooster. “Masterson!” he declared.
“You mean the gunman, Bat Masterson?” inquired Morgan.
Quickly Wallace answered, “He’s honest, he’s dependable, and he has a reputation.”
Chuckling, I added, “And he’s not cheap.”
I knew Masterson from the times I’d spent in Denver. What they said about him was true, but I figured it would come with a price. So did Jakub as he questioned, “Just how much is this going to cost the mines?”
Wallace was shaking his head. “Not a dime,” he declared proudly. We’re going to have a sales tax in the city to raise funds for his, uh, regular salary.”
“How much is that?” hollered Jakub.
“What do you mean by ‘regular’ salary?” questioned Morgan.
“His regular salary will come from the tax, and he’ll be subsidized by fines from the hoodlums he jails,” replied Wallace. “I need to go get ready to meet him as he is coming in on the next train.”
I don’t think that Wallace put much thought into his plan. Masterson would be a good man, but the town would pay a price. He started to leave the meeting when Morgan grabbed him by the shoulder of his jacket. “How much?”
For some reason sweat broke out on Wallace’s forehead. “$200.”
That brought a laugh from Jakub which soon Morgan joined all the time shaking his head. “You’re going to get all the merchants to go along with a sales tax?” he paused. “Does that include the saloons, brothels, and dance halls?”
“Well, uh, uh, I haven’t discussed that with them, yet. Gentlemen I really must go,” and with that Wallace left us.
I pulled on the end of my moustache then told the men. “Reckon I’ll go down and meet the new marshal,” and followed Wallace out the door
The train pulled in on time as I waited on the station platform. When Bat stepped down out of the train, one could see why he was a force to be reckoned with. He wore a gray derby, a style he began to wear a few years back. Gone was the buffalo hunter and scout. Before me now stood a man who used a gun when needed, force when required, and wouldn’t take nonsense from anyone.
Upon seeing me, he gave a slight grin as he walked up to me. “Miles, why did they call for me, if you’re here?”
I reached out my hand in greeting, Bat didn’t hesitate but firmly shook it. Some who called themselves gunmen and card-sharks usually refuse to shake a man’s hand for fear of having their fingers crushed, not Masterson.
“Hotel’s a couple of blocks up the street. Let’s talk…”