Read Slocum's Silver Burden for Free Online

That one is two hundred years old. The other is newer. Only fifty years old. Both were brought from Edo by a gardener I employed until he died.”
    â€œYou took the trees then?”
    â€œHe willed them to me. That’s the way it’s done. These are heirlooms.”
    â€œYou keep your possessions real close to you, don’t you?” Slocum had heard talk like this before.
    David Collingswood, or so read the nameplate on this desk, was dressed to the nines in an outfit Slocum knew wouldn’t be out of place at the Union Club. In the midst of his impeccable jacket, vest, and ruffled shirt shone a headlight diamond bigger than any Slocum had ever seen worn by the most prosperous gambler. The difference was the gambler carried his wealth against the time his luck dried up. Collingswood wore this to hold his cravat in place. Slocum wondered if the man had a dozen more like it at home, maybe up on Russian Hill, where the richest of the rich in San Francisco lived.
    A man like this was the sort to hire Tamara Crittenden to guard his doorway. And maybe there was more to their relationship beyond work. It made sense. Somehow, Slocum felt a bit disappointed in that notion.
    â€œI have a reputation for selling dearly and buying cheaply,” the man said. He sank into his leather chair and closed his eyes. For a moment he looked twenty years older than the forty that Slocum guessed. He opened his eyes and stared almost forlornly at Slocum. “You carry yourself well. You wouldn’t have made it this far if you couldn’t use that side arm well and perform the rest of the services I require.”
    â€œYou trust Underwood that much?”
    â€œWith my life, if necessary. But his real ability comes in sizing up men.”
    â€œLike Miss Crittenden, too?”
    Collingswood lifted an eyebrow, and a small smile danced on his lips. He perked up as he leaned forward, forearms on his desk. Before, he had just stared at Slocum—or through him. Now he gave him as thorough a once-over as Tamara Crittenden had.
    â€œAll the trappings of wealth mean nothing to you, do they?” Collingswood had finished his appraisal and sounded as if he were delivering a report to his board of directors.
    â€œIf I have food in my belly and a roof over my head, I’m happy.”
    â€œNot true, sir. The part about the roof. You prefer the open sky, the endless range, to roofs and walls. Underwood must have determined your tracking skills are what I need.”
    â€œWhat is this ‘great hunt’ you’re hiring men for?”
    â€œWhat makes you think there are more than just you?” Collingswood looked sharply at him. “What have you heard?”
    â€œYou’re edgy about something. Underwood never said as much, but I got the sense that he had brought you other men for this hunt. You look like a belt and suspenders fellow. You don’t take unnecessary risks.”
    â€œI got here by taking calculated risks, yes, but you are right about the job. And I take it as a personal affront when something is stolen from the railroad.”
    Slocum said nothing. He hadn’t heard of a recent robbery. That meant Collingswood either quashed the story for the railroad to protect its—and his—reputation, or what had been stolen was more a matter of pride than value.
    â€œThe train was carrying a load of silver from Virginia City bound for a company bank vault here in San Francisco. The robbers got away with the entire shipment.”
    â€œYou want me to track down the robbers? Or to get back the silver?”
    â€œThere are several others already hired to find the shipment and return it. While bringing the outlaws to justice is important, returning the shipment is paramount.”
    â€œHow much silver was stolen?”
    â€œClose to ten thousand dollars’ worth.”
    Slocum simply stared at the railroad officer. Most men he knew could live pretty well on a few hundred