“Will you be leaving as soon as you complete your business?” Cynthia asked. “If so, please stop by and tell us good-bye before you go.”
“I’m not planning to leave right away. In fact, I’ve had my horse sent here,” Matt said.
“Oh, how nice,” Cynthia said. “Then we will be seeing each other again.”
“Sir, are you checking in?” the desk clerk called.
“Yes,” Matt said. Touching the brim of his hat, he smiled at Cynthia and Hendel, then walked over to the desk and signed the register.
After Matt checked into the hotel, he went over to the Sundown Corral to check on his horse.
“Yes, Mr. Jensen, your horse arrived four days ago,” the stable keeper said. “I must say, he is as fine an animal as has ever boarded with us.”
“Yes, thank you, Spirit has been a very good horse,” Matt said.
Matt went back into the stall area. When Spirit saw him, he began nodding his head and pawing at the ground.
“Hello, old boy,” Matt said, walking up to the stall. Spirit put his head down and let Matt pet him and pull on his ears. This was Matt’s second horse named Spirit, and this one was so much like his first mount of the same name that he could almost believe that the “spirit” of Spirit One had somehow become a part of Spirit Two.
“Sorry I’ve been gone so long,” Matt said. “But as soon as I get my business taken care of here, we’ll do some riding together.”
Walking back up front, Matt approached the liveryman. “Do I owe you anything?”
“Not yet, you don’t,” the liveryman replied. “The fella who arranged this for you has it all paid up for another week.”
“Good, I expect we’ll be here for at least another week, and perhaps longer. Thanks for looking out for him for me.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Jensen. My pleasure.”
When Matt reached the building the sheriff had pointed out as the one Marcus was using to build his brewery, he saw that the front door was open. Matt stopped at the door, but didn’t go inside.
“Hello?” he called.
Not getting an answer, he stepped on into the building and called again.
“Hello?”
The inside was in shadows, poorly illuminated by the open door, a few open windows, and the bars of sunlight that streamed in through the cracks between the boards. Matt saw someone working on a large vat, and there was enough similarity in appearance to Lee that Matt knew immediately that he had found the right man.
“Are you Andrew Marcus?”
“Hand me that spanner, would you, mister?” the man replied, pointing to a wrench.
Matt picked up the wrench and handed it to him.
“Now, when I turn this, what I want you to do is look underneath this vat and see if it closes off the drain.”
“All right,” Matt said.
The man began turning the nut and Matt looked underneath the vat. He saw the drain close.
“Did that close it down?”
“Yes.”
“Good, good, I’ve been working on that all morning. Thanks for your help.”
Matt chuckled. “I didn’t do a whole lot,” he said.
“Sure you did. I needed another pair of eyes and you came along at the right time.” Marcus picked up a towel and began wiping his hands. “You got my name right, I’m Marcus. Who are you, and what can I do for you?” he asked.
“My name is Matt Jensen, Mr. Marcus, and I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”
“Bad news? Wait a minute, are you tellin’ me there’s some kind of law says I can’t open a brewery here? Because if there is, it must be a new law. I read the law and all the statutes pertaining to brewing, and I didn’t see anything that says I can’t do it.”
“No, it’s not about that, it has nothing to do with the brewery. It’s about Lee, your brother.”
“Damn,” Marcus said. “I knew it. He’s in trouble with that mine he bought, isn’t he? I told him he was a fool for getting mixed up in something like that.”
“No, sir, I wish that was the worst of it,” Matt said. He took a deep breath. “The truth is, Mr. Marcus, your brother is dead.”
Marcus took a quick, surprised breath of air. “What?” he asked, his voice considerably softer now. He took a step back and put his hand on the side of the vat. “Did you—did you say Lee is dead?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“How did he die?”
“He was killed in a gunfight.”
“Lee? Killed in a gunfight? Mister, are you sure we are talking about the same man? Lee might get himself into a fistfight, maybe even a brawl, but he would never get into a gunfight.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Marcus. I am talking about your brother,” Matt said. “Though I would give anything in the world if it wasn’t true.”
Andy walked over to sit down on the bottom step of a stairway that led to a platform that stretched out over the three vats.
“When did it happen?”
“Almost a month ago now,” Matt said.
“Damn. That means he’s already been buried. Here I’ve been so busy trying to get this brewery started that I didn’t even know about it. And I didn’t know about it because I was too damn selfish. Hell, I wasn’t even there for his funeral.”
“I went to St. Louis to find you,” Matt said. “Lee thought that’s where you were.”
“I’m sorry about that. I mean about you goin’ to all that trouble and me not even bein’ there,” Marcus said. “But the truth is, Mr. Jensen, Lee didn’t know where I was, because I didn’t write to tell him I had left St. Louis. You see, I had sort of hoped I would have this brewery going before I had to tell him anything about it. Then I was going to ask him to give up that worthless mine of his and come join me. I wasn’t even goin’ to charge him anything, just take him on as a full partner.” Andy sighed. “But it is too late for all that now.”
“Lee left something for you,” Matt said. Opening his bag, he took out an envelope and handed it to Marcus.
“What is it?” Marcus said. Opening the envelope, Marcus looked inside, gasped, then looked up at Matt. “What the hell? This is money!” he said.
“Yes. Exactly two thousand dollars, in fact.”
Although Lee had told Matt to use some of the money to offset his traveling expenses, Matt had not used any of it, preferring to keep the entire two thousand dollars together.
“My God! You’re tellin’ me that there is two thousand dollars here and it came from Lee?”
“Yes,” Matt said. “That is exactly what I am telling you.”
“How in the world did Lee ever come up with that much money?”
“It turns out you were wrong about the mine, Mr. Marcus,” Matt said. “The mine paid well for him.”
“I’ll be damn. And all this time I’ve been mad at whoever sold it to him. I wish I could meet that fella now, so I could apologize.”
Matt smiled. “Well, Mr. Marcus, you just met him,” he said.
“Wait a minute. You? You are the one who sold my brother the mine?”
“I am,” Matt said. “Oh, and by the way, the silver mine belongs to you now.” Again, Matt reached into the bag and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I’ve had all the paperwork drawn up transferring ownership to you.”
“Mister, I’d like to shake your hand,” Marcus said. “You may well be the most honest man I’ve ever met. You could have kept the money, and the mine, and I would have never known anything about it. So the mine paid off, huh?”
“Yes. Lee had to work it, and I won’t tease you, it was hard work. But in the end, the mine did pay off for your brother.”
Marcus ran his hand across his chin. “Oh, my. Well, now, that does present me with something of a quandary. I need to ask myself, should I pull up stakes here and go up to Colorado to work the mine? After all, it has proven itself. Or, should I stay here and build the brewery?” He held up the envelope containing the two thousand dollars. “This is all the money I need to finish.”