by Peter Grant
“Thank you very much. I’ll do my best to justify your confidence in me.”
Walt looked at him soberly. “I’m glad you used that word, ‘confidence’. I need you to keep real quiet about my affairs, not just for the usual reasons, but because I’m trying to find out what led to an attack on my wagons up at Colorado City. One of my men was killed, and several horses stolen. I’ve learned there may be a big crime problem, involving stock theft in several counties. I’ve asked the chief detective at Wells Fargo’s agency in Denver to help me figure out what to do next. I reckon there may be risks if we expose those behind it.”
“I see.” The lawyer’s face showed concern. “What sort of risks? Reprisals?”
“Yeah, or they may try to destroy evidence, or anything else like that. This may be real big. That’s why you need to keep it quiet. If it comes out you’re my lawyer, they may try to put pressure on you too. We both know that some of our politicians aren’t straight arrows. They may be protecting the people behind this. There’s enough money involved to make it worth their while.”
“Yes, they say some of our politicians are the best money can buy.” They exchanged a wry grin. “Don’t worry. Confidentiality is part of a lawyer’s business, and I take it very seriously.”
“I’m real glad to hear it. Let me tell you what’s happened so far.”
Walt gave a quick summary of the attack on the wagon train, and what he’d learned about Bart Furlong. He didn’t mention the lynching of the thieves, or his arson at Furlong’s ranch. He saw no point in admitting he’d broken the law himself while dealing with criminals, no matter how common such measures might be.
“I got hold of some papers. They’ve given me a lot of information, but they also involve matters with which I’m not familiar. For example, there are some bearer share certificates. How do they work? The only shares I know about are registered in the owner’s name, like those of my transport business.”
Lee nodded. “That’s the usual type, yes; but bearer shares aren’t registered to a person. Their title vests in the bearer—the person in possession of them. Whoever has them is their owner for purposes of law. He can sell them to anyone, with no questions asked, and the change of ownership won’t be registered anywhere. In this case, it’s not like the old saying that ‘possession is nine points of the law’. When it comes to bearer shares, possession is all the law.”
“I get it. So, if you lose them, you haven’t got much chance of getting them back?”
“It would be very difficult. Replacement share certificates can’t normally be issued, because the originals are presumed to exist unless it can be proved beyond doubt that they were destroyed—for example, in a fire, with reputable witnesses to confirm that they were in the building when it burned down. Otherwise, the loss to the owner would be permanent.”
“How common are they?”
“Not very common. Most businesses issue shares registered to the individual or company that owns them. However, some owners value the privacy afforded by bearer shares, or they don’t want others to know they own them. I’m afraid criminals also find them very useful. You see, their property or fixed assets, if bought using the proceeds of their crimes, can be seized as the equivalent of stolen property after they’re convicted. However, if a bearer share company is the registered owner of the asset, the company’s owner can’t be identified, because no shares are issued in his name. That means its assets can’t be seized, unless the shares are recovered.”
“How would you go about buying such a company? Is it as simple as paying money to the owner of the bearer shares, and getting them in exchange?”
“Precisely. If you then went to a bank or a lawyer and showed them the bearer shares, that would be regarded as absolute proof of your claim to ownership.”
“Hmmm… So, if a bearer share company was set up to be the registered owner of a property, having the bearer shares would be as good as registering title to the property in one’s own name?”
“Yes, absolutely. You could sell them, and the property would transfer with them as an asset of the company. Alternatively, as its owner, you could have the company sell the property to someone else, then wind up the company.”
“I see.” Walt rose to his feet. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Mr. Lee. I’ll probably have more questions in due course. Meanwhile, if you’ll send over that contract, I’ll sign it.”
* * *
At home that evening, after supper, Walt told Rose, “I need to make a quick trip to Denver. That box of papers from Furlong’s place has turned up some real interesting things.”
“Oh? Can you tell me about them?”
“Don’t I always?” They smiled at each other. “First, let me tell you about something called bearer shares.”
Walt explained what Henry Lee had told him that morning. “There were two letters from a lawyer in that box, still sealed, addressed to Mr. Parsons. I opened ’em. It seems he set up a bearer share company, then combined several smaller properties he’d bought earlier into one big one, and registered it in the company’s name. It’s in southern Fremont County.”
“How big is it?”
“Over ten thousand acres—about sixteen square miles. It’s in the Wet Mountain Valley, about two days by mule wagon from here. I’d already been looking at the Valley, considering it as a place for our ranch. It looks like prime horse country, with good grazing and mild winters by Colorado standards. In the foothills, where this place is, there’s plenty of runoff from the Wet Mountains. You could build dams to store enough water to use all year round.”
She laughed. “You’re not going to offer to buy it from him, are you?”
He joined in her laughter. “I don’t think that’d be a real good idea; but I might be able to use it to put pressure on him. From other papers in that box, it looks like Parsons, in the past, used several different lawyers to form companies, then registered properties in their name rather than his. I think he’s been taking his share of the money from horse and mule thefts, and investing it in land.”
“And you think this land in Fremont County, and this new company, are part of that?”
“I reckon so; and I think the lawyer made a mistake. You see, another of the letters addressed to Parsons, from a lawyer in Denver, says his documents are ready for his man to collect. He should bring that letter with him, plus one from Parsons authorizing him to get them, otherwise the papers won’t be handed over. The lawyer handling that new company didn’t do that. He posted the company registration, the bearer share certificates and the property deed to Parsons, at Furlong’s address.
“I reckon Parsons is going to be very angry when he finds out about that. He’ll think the papers were destroyed in the fire, and it’s tough to replace them. The thing is, he may not know yet that they were mailed to him. He may still plan to collect them, or have them collected, from the lawyer. That means, until he finds out, I can use them to put a spoke in his wheel. You see, since I have them right now, that makes me the legal owner of the company.”
“Oh, my!” A sparkle of glee came to her eyes. “What are you going to do with them?”
“I’m going to make a quick run to Denver, to talk with Mr. Brown again. I’m sure Mr. Lee’s a good lawyer, but he’s not been in practice for very long. Mr. Brown knows all the tricks. There may be a way to use this to our advantage. I’m going to ask him.”
“You’re not going to steal the property from Parsons, are you?”
“No. I just want to move it out of that company’s name into another’s, so Parsons can’t touch it. I can use it as a lever against him, if need be. I’ll also send a messenger to that other lawyer, the one waiting for Parsons to collect his documents. I’ve got the lawyer’s letter, and I know what Parson’s signature looks like from a couple of the documents I took from Furlong, so I can forge a letter of authorization.”
“Like you forged that letter of introduction from the Nashville Military District? The one yo
u used on the riverboat to St. Louis?”
Walt grinned. “Just like that. Those papers, whatever they’re about, plus legal ownership of the bearer share company, will let me put big pressure on Parsons if I need to. Meanwhile, he’ll be tearing his hair out wondering who has them, because I don’t plan to have my name linked to them at all. I’ll use go-betweens all the way.”
“That makes sense. When do you want to go?”
“I’ll head out first thing in the morning. If I ride relay, and swap my horses in Colorado City for two of the fresh ones Isom took with him, I can be in Denver in two days.” He sighed. “I wish the railroad was already working—that’d make it less than a day’s trip each way. Anyway, I’ll see Mr. Brown, do my business, then head back here. I reckon I’ll be home in ten days or so.”
“All right, darling. I’ll help Samson look after the business until you get back.”
“Thanks, love. If you need me, send telegrams care of Isom and Mr. Brown. One of them should reach me within a day or two, wherever I am.”
“I got the mail from town, Mr. Parsons,” Travis announced cheerfully as he strode into the farmhouse. “There’s five letters.”
“Thank you, Travis.”
“I’ll be headin’ back to town, if you don’t need me anymore today. I feel the need for whisky, music, an’ some willin’ female company.”
Parsons smiled. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I sure will, sir!”
Parsons took the mail through to his study and sat down, slitting all the envelopes with a paper knife before taking out their contents. The first two were bills, which he set aside for payment. The third… he nodded in satisfaction as he recognized the return address on the envelope. He’d written to the lawyer last week, to inquire why he hadn’t yet received word that his paperwork was ready for collection. This would be his reply.
He took the letter from the envelope, unfolded it, and read—only for his eyes to bulge in outraged astonishment as he surged to his feet. “I don’t damn well believe it!”
How could the lawyer have been so stupid as to misunderstand his instructions? Instead of holding the company documentation, bearer share certificates, and property title, for collection by messenger, he claimed to have mailed them to Furlong’s address… but had Furlong ever received them? If he had, judging by the dates the lawyer gave, they’d have arrived there just in time for the farmhouse to burn to the ground, with them inside! If they’d been there, they were ashes now—but how could he prove that to the satisfaction of the registrar of companies? How could he—was it even possible to—arrange for replacement bearer share certificates, without identifying himself? And what if they hadn’t reached Furlong at all, but been lost in transit? There’d be no way to prove that at all!
A sudden chill ran through him. What if Ames had taken the documents, before he set fire to Furlong’s farmhouse? Would he know what they represented? Did he understand the utility of bearer shares? What would he do with them?
“Travis!” he called, but there was no answer. He remembered the man’s decision to head into town for an evening’s fun, and cursed. There was no help for it. He’d have to ride the three miles into Salida, to send a telegram. He had other lawyers on retainer. He’d ask one of them to find out whether the new company, or the property registered to it, had been re-registered, and to let him know as fast as possible. He glanced at the clock on the wall. If he hurried, he could get to the telegraph office before it closed. He decided to spend the night at a hotel in Salida, so he’d be on hand to get the reply as soon as it was received tomorrow morning.
As he hurriedly dressed for travel and packed an overnight bag, he paused. How many more legal letters might have been waiting for him at Furlong’s farmhouse? What else might Ames have learned when he ransacked it—as he must surely have done—before burning it to the ground? His forehead creased in renewed concern as he remembered a task he’d entrusted to a different lawyer in Denver. Might Ames have gotten wind of that? If so, was there anything he could do about it? He’d have to send a second telegraph message, to learn the current state of affairs.
As he cantered down the access lane to the main trail, he cursed the day he’d sent Furlong the details of Walter Ames’ wagon train. If only he’d left it alone! He’d been lazy, and not bothered to obtain as much information about the train’s owner as he could have. Because of that lapse of judgment, he might have bought himself a whole heap of trouble. He hoped fervently that he could find a way out of it before it was too late.
* * *
Travis spotted him eating breakfast in the hotel dining room next morning, and walked over to his table. “Mornin’, Mr. Parsons,” he said in a surprised tone. “When did you get here?”
“I came in yesterday evening,” he told him, knowing that his face showed the effects of a sleepless night, tossing and turning as he worried over the sudden potential crisis confronting him. Travis had no need to know about that, though. Part of his hold over his four most trusted workers was that they believed him to be almost omniscient. If they found out that things had gone so seriously wrong—if, in fact, they had gone wrong; he didn’t know for sure yet—then their faith in him would be severely shaken. He daren’t let that happen.
“I had to send a couple of urgent messages, based on the mail you brought,” he explained. “I spent the night here, so I can get the replies as soon as they come in.”
“D’you want me to wait with you?”
“No, there’s no need for that. You get on with your work. I’ll go back to the farm as soon as both replies are in.”
“On my way, sir.”
Parsons finished eating, then killed time by ordering supplies for the farm. “I’ll send a wagon in this afternoon to collect them,” he promised the storekeeper. “What’s the balance on my account?”
“Just a minute, sir… it’s twenty-nine dollars and seven cents, sir.”
“I’ll take care of that.” He counted off three ten-dollar bills. “Credit the change to my account.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
He emerged from the store and began walking towards the telegraph office. As he approached, the operator saw him coming, and put his head out of the window. “I’ve got two messages for you, Mr. Parsons,” he called.
His pulse beat faster as he accepted them. He didn’t dare open them in the office, for fear of how he might react to them. He stepped outside, only to be greeted by the town marshal, who was walking his morning rounds. “G’mornin’, Mr. Parsons. How are you doin’ today?”
He was forced to spend a few minutes in small talk, so as not to arouse the lawman’s concern. All the while, his inner brain was screaming at him to get away to a private place, so he could read the replies to his messages. The marshal insisted on walking with him to the livery stable, and chatted incessantly while the stable hand saddled his horse and led it outside.
He swung into the saddle. “Nice talking to you, marshal. I’ll see you next time I’m in town.”
“You’ll be comin’ to the church social on Sunday?”
“I… I don’t know right now. I may have to go out of town on business.”
“Oh! That’s a pity.”
At last he made his escape, cantering down the street and out of town. He didn’t stop until he was half a mile down the road. As soon as he felt he was sufficiently far from potential witnesses, he reined his horse to a stop, pulled the message envelopes from his pocket, and ripped them open.
He cursed foully as he read the first, fury and frustration searing his soul. The newly-formed bearer share company he’d registered, for the sole purpose of holding title to his newly consolidated properties in Fremont County, had just sold the land to another newly-formed bearer share company. There was no indication of who owned it. It had been registered only ten days before through a lawyer’s office in Denver, which had also re-registered the property title to the new company as a ‘sale’. The beare
r share company he’d set up had then been wound up, and its corporate registration canceled.
“Damn it all to hell!” he half-whispered. Was Ames behind it? He was the most likely suspect. His man in Pueblo had informed him that, by the time he’d received his instructions to start watching Ames’ movements, the freighter had already left town. Had he made a quick trip to Denver, to set this up? If Ames hadn’t done this, who else might it be? Had someone else obtained the letters, and made use of the bearer share certificates? For that matter, had Bart Furlong double-crossed him, opened the letter, and passed the shares to a third party? No… he didn’t think the man had enough brains to be able to figure that out. This must have been either Ames, or someone else who’d intercepted the lawyer’s correspondence.
His blood ran suddenly cold. What if Ames had notified the authorities? He’d have to ask his contacts in Denver to find out about that.
Shaking with anger, sweating with redoubled concern, he read the second message. It confirmed that another of his lawyers had sent a letter to him, in care of Furlong’s address, notifying Parsons that his documents were awaiting collection. A man identifying himself as a Wells Fargo messenger had come to that lawyer’s office ten days before, bearing the lawyer’s letter of notification, plus Parson’s signed authorization to collect the documents.
“How the hell could Ames know what my signature looked like?” he demanded aloud, face pinched with rage—then he realized what had probably happened. In defiance of his strict instructions, Furlong might have retained some of his letters, storing them in his strongbox. That meant Ames most likely had them now, and could have copied his signature from them.
He returned his attention to the telegraph message. Since the messenger’s documents conformed to what the lawyer had expected, he’d handed over the papers. Following Parsons’ urgent telegraphed inquiry, he’d approached Wells Fargo that very morning, only to be told that no messenger had been sent to his office on the day in question. He awaited his esteemed client’s instructions.