"Henry," the financier, J.P. Morgan, asked, "I saw your swordsmanship and your marksmanship today. They are unparalleled. You must possess a unique and exceptional talent."
"I do," Henry admitted frankly. "I have a certain aptitude for these things."
"So it's true," the railroad tycoon, Collis Huntington, pressed, his voice filled with a grim satisfaction. "You single-handedly destroyed the James and Younger gangs?"
"It is. Though I had to let Jesse and Frank go. They were using Miss Consuelo as a shield."
"Anyone who has seen Henry in action can attest to his skill," Senator Garfield interjected, raising his glass. "Once again, Henry, you have my thanks."
Henry returned the toast.
The group of powerful men spent the next hour talking. They were all impressed, not just by Henry's incredible power, but by the breadth of his knowledge and the sharpness of his mind. He was no mere brute. He was one of them.
When the cigar time was over, Henry returned to the ballroom and had his second dance with Edith. When the music ended, it was after 11 PM. He finally found an opportunity to ask Consuelo to dance.
As they moved across the floor, he told her of his plans to leave. A look of disappointment crossed her face. It had all been so sudden. She hadn't even had time to prepare a proper gift to thank him for saving her life.
He is a man of the city, she thought, a natural leader, a prince. Why does he insist on returning to that desolate wilderness?
She remembered the pang of jealousy she had felt when he had asked Edith for the first dance. A thousand words welled up inside her, but all she could manage was a single, heartfelt whisper. "Be safe."
He looked at the beautiful, innocent girl in his arms and thought that fate was truly unfair. She was the heiress to one of America's greatest fortunes, a millionaire in her own right, and today, on her eighteenth birthday, she would likely receive another massive gift from her grandfather. He, who had fought and bled for his own fortune, was still not her equal in wealth.
"The man who ordered the kidnapping," he said, his voice a low, confidential murmur, "was Mike, the leader of the Whyos Gang. The men behind him were Gurman, the man who was shot today, and the banker, Silva. I believe there are senators involved as well, but Mike didn't know the details."
He had decided to tell her, not her grandfather.
It took her a moment to process the information. "Thank you, Henry," she finally said, her voice filled with a new, profound emotion. "Thank you for everything."
Then, on a sudden, wild impulse, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
She ignored her mother's endless lectures on propriety. She ignored the fact that her best friend, Edith, was watching from across the room. In this one moment, on her eighteenth birthday, she would do what she wanted. She gave her first kiss to the man she admired, the man who had saved her life.
The couples dancing nearby saw it, and in an instant, the entire ballroom had fallen silent. All eyes were on them.
Henry held her steady, his hands on her waist, and when the kiss ended, a few seconds later, he gently pulled back.
They finished the dance in silence.
He looked across the room and his eyes met Edith's. He gave her a slight, unapologetic smile. She smiled back.
But inside, Edith's heart was filled with a fierce, competitive fire. My mother was right, she thought. A good man is something you have to fight for. She had seen the way the other women looked at him, and she had made her move first.
It doesn't matter, she told herself. His first kiss was mine. And he will be mine.
When the music ended, Henry escorted Consuelo back to her friends, gave a final, parting nod to Edith, and then left the party.
Another woman watched him go, a look of frustration on her face. Beretta, "The Black Widow Spider Queen," had been trying to get close to him all night, but he had seemed completely immune to her subtle, seductive glances. He had spent the entire night surrounded by the young heiresses, and now he was leaving early.
She had seen his skill with the sword and the gun. He was, as the reports had said, a master, a legend. But she was not a woman who relied on a direct confrontation. She would find another way. She had to. The two-hundred-thousand-dollar contract was too much to pass up. And to refuse a job, after accepting the deposit, would mean paying it back double.