Read Online Murder at Thumb Butte by James D. Best - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James D. Best
Ads: Link
he’s booked the next few days. I’m Jonathon Winslow, his personal assistant. May I ask the subject of your business?”
“ Personal matter. I sent him a letter announcing my pending trip a few months ago. Could you please tell me where I can find him?”
“ No.”
“ Excuse me?” I wanted to verbally tear into this civic minion, but that would have made him even more impertinent. “I’m a personal family friend of John Frémont, recently arrived from New York City. My family was a major donor to his presidential bid. I’ve run into a bit of trouble, and I need to speak to the governor as soon as possible. Where can I find him at this hour of the morning?”
“ I’m under strict orders never to reveal the governor’s whereabouts … especially if the subject is personal. I can make you an appointment for next week or possibly the week after.” He leaned over a leather-bound appointment calendar. “Will fifteen minutes be sufficient?”
“ You won’t tell me where he lives, will you?”
“ Of course not.”
“ Well, I suppose it’s not a secret to townsfolk. Good day, sir.”
He let me walk ten paces before adding in a quiet voice, “You won’t find him at home.”
I stopped and slowly turned to face him. “Then I’ll speak with Jessie. She’ll tell me how to find her husband.”
The sneer faded. “Perhaps it’s best if we don’t disturb Mrs. Frémont this morning. If you tell me what your problem is, I’m sure I can handle it. I do all sorts of tasks for the governor.”
“ I’m sure.” I pretended to contemplate his offer. “But I think this should be handled personally by the governor. You did understand that the Frémont and Dancy families are not only friendly but politically connected?”
“ Do you want money?”
“ What? No.”
“ Does the problem involve a woman?”
“ No.”
“ Just a moment.” He disappeared behind the closed door. After a moment, he reappeared and waved me into the office.
John C. Frémont sat alone at a long committee table, eating breakfast. He wore a beard and a full head of unruly gray hair. He had grown old, and he looked beaten. I was struck by this inglorious end to a glorious career.
I approached with an extended hand. “Governor, I’m Steve Dancy. I’m sure you don’t remember, but you once bounced me on your knee.”
Frémont wiped his hands on a napkin and shook—not a politician’s handshake, but the gesture of an erstwhile hero resigned to mundane routine. It must be difficult to go from being nationally celebrated to holding an obscure posting on the frontier.
“ Steven Dancy? From New York City? I’m sure you’re correct, but I have no such recollection. How long ago was it?”
“ In 1855, twenty-five years ago. You were the Republican nominee for president. My father and you were friends and political allies.”
“ A heady time. Lots of gentlemen to greet, lots of wives to dance around the floor, lots of babies to kiss … and lots of children to bounce on my knee. It’s all just a blur, I’m afraid.”
This wouldn’t do. “Governor, may I remind you, the Dancys were among the largest and earliest donors to your campaign. My family introduced you to New York society, which garnered additional large contributions. You bounced me on your knee, not at some political event but in our parlor, which you visited often to discuss political strategy with my father.”
“ Please excuse me. I lost a good friend last night. My mood is dark and my mind addled.”
He still hadn’t acknowledged knowing us. Perhaps he was afraid I had come to collect a return favor—or money for some long-forgotten debt. I had originally hoped to use his influence to assist with my enterprises, but now I wanted his help to free Sharp.
“ I presume you are referring to the death of Elisha Campbell,” I said.
“ I am. Did you know him?”
“ No, but I traveled from Carson City to see if we could make a business arrangement
“ Personal matter. I sent him a letter announcing my pending trip a few months ago. Could you please tell me where I can find him?”
“ No.”
“ Excuse me?” I wanted to verbally tear into this civic minion, but that would have made him even more impertinent. “I’m a personal family friend of John Frémont, recently arrived from New York City. My family was a major donor to his presidential bid. I’ve run into a bit of trouble, and I need to speak to the governor as soon as possible. Where can I find him at this hour of the morning?”
“ I’m under strict orders never to reveal the governor’s whereabouts … especially if the subject is personal. I can make you an appointment for next week or possibly the week after.” He leaned over a leather-bound appointment calendar. “Will fifteen minutes be sufficient?”
“ You won’t tell me where he lives, will you?”
“ Of course not.”
“ Well, I suppose it’s not a secret to townsfolk. Good day, sir.”
He let me walk ten paces before adding in a quiet voice, “You won’t find him at home.”
I stopped and slowly turned to face him. “Then I’ll speak with Jessie. She’ll tell me how to find her husband.”
The sneer faded. “Perhaps it’s best if we don’t disturb Mrs. Frémont this morning. If you tell me what your problem is, I’m sure I can handle it. I do all sorts of tasks for the governor.”
“ I’m sure.” I pretended to contemplate his offer. “But I think this should be handled personally by the governor. You did understand that the Frémont and Dancy families are not only friendly but politically connected?”
“ Do you want money?”
“ What? No.”
“ Does the problem involve a woman?”
“ No.”
“ Just a moment.” He disappeared behind the closed door. After a moment, he reappeared and waved me into the office.
John C. Frémont sat alone at a long committee table, eating breakfast. He wore a beard and a full head of unruly gray hair. He had grown old, and he looked beaten. I was struck by this inglorious end to a glorious career.
I approached with an extended hand. “Governor, I’m Steve Dancy. I’m sure you don’t remember, but you once bounced me on your knee.”
Frémont wiped his hands on a napkin and shook—not a politician’s handshake, but the gesture of an erstwhile hero resigned to mundane routine. It must be difficult to go from being nationally celebrated to holding an obscure posting on the frontier.
“ Steven Dancy? From New York City? I’m sure you’re correct, but I have no such recollection. How long ago was it?”
“ In 1855, twenty-five years ago. You were the Republican nominee for president. My father and you were friends and political allies.”
“ A heady time. Lots of gentlemen to greet, lots of wives to dance around the floor, lots of babies to kiss … and lots of children to bounce on my knee. It’s all just a blur, I’m afraid.”
This wouldn’t do. “Governor, may I remind you, the Dancys were among the largest and earliest donors to your campaign. My family introduced you to New York society, which garnered additional large contributions. You bounced me on your knee, not at some political event but in our parlor, which you visited often to discuss political strategy with my father.”
“ Please excuse me. I lost a good friend last night. My mood is dark and my mind addled.”
He still hadn’t acknowledged knowing us. Perhaps he was afraid I had come to collect a return favor—or money for some long-forgotten debt. I had originally hoped to use his influence to assist with my enterprises, but now I wanted his help to free Sharp.
“ I presume you are referring to the death of Elisha Campbell,” I said.
“ I am. Did you know him?”
“ No, but I traveled from Carson City to see if we could make a business arrangement
Similar Books
