Back home, Henry locked the door and sat on the calfskin sofa in the living room to take stock of his gains.
First, the cash. He had a total of $38,752 in bills. The largest hauls had come from Michael Doran, the other outlaw leader who had gifted him the danger-sense talent, and Deputy Ronald. The other 201 bodies he'd looted accounted for about $9,000 of the total.
In coin, he had another $1,376.30.
All told, he now had $40,128.30. Adding the $24,000 reward from the town, his net worth was $64,128.30.
In the terms of his past life, that was a purchasing power of roughly eight million US dollars.
It was true what they said: a horse doesn't get fat without midnight grass, and a man doesn't get rich without a windfall.
And no personal income tax, he thought. What a wonderful era.
Next, the weapons. He now had two Gatling guns and over six thousand rounds of ammunition for them, though the hand-cranked weapons required at least two men to operate effectively.
He had acquired 152 new Winchester rifles, as well as four Mauser Model 1873 bolt-action rifles. The Mauser 1873 was the predecessor to the famous 98k. It was a single-shot rifle, however, unsuited for his current needs. He would keep them in storage.
He also had 156 new Colt double-action revolvers and roughly twenty thousand rounds of .44 caliber ammunition.
Finally, there were 156 miscellaneous daggers and sabers, one rapier, and 360 throwing knives. He had also taken the full, professional set of lockpicks from the storeroom. The rapier, he assumed, had belonged to the man who'd provided him with the Fencing skill. Dueling with rapiers had been the preferred method of settling disputes among Western nobility for centuries. It reminded him of the movie The Mask of Zorro.
Having finished his inventory, he saw it was nearly noon. He left the house and walked fifty meters down the road to the home of the late Sheriff Bryan.
Bryan's wife, Linda, was only thirty years old. Bryan had rescued her eight years ago on the road to Denver after killing the four bandits who had captured her. It was said she was the descendant of French nobility, with close relatives in New York. While not a stunning beauty, she possessed a gentle, intelligent grace that made her captivating.
Henry knew her well; he had been a frequent guest for dinner.
He found that he didn't dwell much on the dead, not even Sheriff Bryan. But for the living, for his friends, the memories he'd absorbed from the original Henry made him deeply concerned. He chalked it up to his three years as a mercenary. When you've seen that much death, the living become all that matters.
Linda was in the kitchen preparing lunch. She and Bryan had two children: a six-year-old boy, Andre, and a three-year-old girl, Becky.
She was surprised to see him. "Henry! I remember you used to look just like this. It's a good look! Please, sit down. I'll grill a steak for you."
"Thank you," Henry said, handing her an envelope containing a thousand dollars. "It's been too long since I've had your steak. I've missed it."
Linda took the envelope, saw the thick stack of bills inside, and immediately tried to hand it back. "Henry, thank you, but the family's financial situation is stable. Mayor William came by this morning. He said Bryan's compensation fund would be paid out in a few days."
Henry didn't take the envelope back. His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "I know. Sheriff Bryan was like a mentor to me. He helped me so much. Please, allow me to show this small token of my gratitude. Accept it. I received a very generous reward for my part in the battle."
Sensing his resolve, Linda relented and went upstairs to put the money away.
Henry sat on the sofa and picked up little Becky, playing with her while Andre sat on the oak floor, quietly playing with a small wooden horse. In the corner of the living room stood a Steinway piano, covered by a red cloth.
Linda was an excellent cook. Half an hour later, lunch was served.
Henry cut into a delicious black pepper steak as he chatted with her.
"I'm planning to sell the house and take Andre and Becky to live in New York," Linda said quietly. "Their grandparents miss them terribly."
"Being with family is the best thing," Henry agreed. "Let me know when you're ready to leave. I'll escort you to the train station in Denver. And if you ever need anything, send me a telegram."
"Thank you, Henry. We would truly appreciate the escort," Linda said earnestly. The memory of her kidnapping was never far from her mind. "And thank you for avenging Bryan. I heard you killed over a hundred of the bandits by yourself."
"Something like that," Henry said, downplaying his role. "But Bryan avenged himself. He was a true hero. He took down more than thirty of them on his own. By the way, I have his rifle. I can bring it to you tomorrow."
"No, Henry," she said, her eyes downcast. "You keep it. Let it fight alongside you."
She fell silent then, her face a mask of sorrow, quietly eating her tomato and cheese salad.
Henry sighed internally. The original Henry had always thought of her as an older sister. Since marrying Bryan, she had been a housewife. She had studied piano in college, but there were few opportunities for a concert pianist in a Western mining town, and her children were too young to be left alone.
A happy, perfect family, shattered in an instant.
At that moment, Henry felt a profound certainty that he had done the right thing.
A single, simple thought rose in his mind, cold and clear as ice: The wicked must die.
Sean McKinley and the men behind him… they cannot be allowed to live.
After lunch, Henry said his goodbyes and walked toward the town's only law office.
The lawyer, Benjamin, was a shrewd Jewish man in his forties. He and his three young assistants were the entire firm. Henry had dealt with him four years ago when his grandfather passed away. Benjamin had been in town for over a decade.
The lawyer, who was already showing signs of balding, greeted him with a wide smile. "Sheriff Henry! Welcome! Your performance in yesterday's battle was simply astonishing!"
"Thank you," Henry said with a slight smile, following him into his private office and taking a seat.
Meeting Benjamin's inquisitive gaze, Henry got straight to the point. "I just came from Sheriff Bryan's house. His wife, Linda, is planning to sell the property soon and leave town. I'd like to commission you to help me buy it."
Henry leaned back in his chair. "I don't want my name involved. There's no need to haggle on the price. I imagine she won't be taking the piano or the other furnishings with her. Factor all of it into the price, and please, be generous with the valuation."