Disgruntled, Brandon heaved himself up from his chair. Perhaps it was time to compose a telegram. Jay Gould and Dr. Thomas Durant were both influential men who knew how to get things done. And they weren’t squeamish about crushing their opponents when necessary.

Steve Morgan would soon realize he had gotten in over his head. He may be ruthless, but he was a mercenary more than a businessman. He would never be able to withstand the combined forces of three of the most powerful men in all of America.

It had taken over a month for production to improve at the mine after Steve’s interference. But Luna was responsible for that fiasco! It had nearly caused an international incident with Spain, but Luna’s untimely—or timely, if one chose to see it that way—death in a mysterious fire had put a swift end to the problem.

Odd affair, that, Brandon mused; a fire in some remote village in the mountains killing the man so conveniently. It was almost too convenient. Why was it that Morgan seemed to attract coincidences far too often?

It couldn’t be just coincidence that he and Virginia had disappeared right after Luna’s death, nor that railroad rights had abruptly been blocked immediately after Steve escaped from incarceration in the Galena.

Damn Luna…he’d warned him to be careful even while approving of his plan to get Steve out of the way, but he had never thought the Spaniard fool enough to imprison him in the Galena! No doubt Luna had planned all along for the blame to fall elsewhere should the authorities or influential friends come to Morgan’s rescue. God, he’d been a dupe, a convenient scapegoat for Luna’s own schemes of vengeance.

After sending a telegram, William Brandon went to the Vance House Hotel and took his usual seat at the table by the window. The river wound in a distant, placid curve through the town. When the rains came, it could turn from tranquil to turbulent in a matter of moments, boiling over riverbanks to sweep along everything in its path.

But now it was calm enough, winding through stands of cottonwood trees and scrub willows, with new construction springing up precariously close to the banks as the town limits spread. San Antonio had been settled since the early 1700s and gone through as many changes as the landscape.

A rough town still, it boasted burgeoning commerce and a reputation as a place where one could buy almost anything, legal or illegal. Since the arrival of the new railroad in February, San Antonio had become a boom town. New industry was pouring in every day. Cattle lots sprang up, and even more saloons, hotels and mercantile stores were being built to handle the influx of cowmen.