The Last Gunfighter: Hell Town

by William W. Johnstone

  An avaricious grin spread across Pool’s bearded face. “Lots of dinero there for the takin’ in a boomtown,” he commented.

  “Yeah, but that’s not all,” Beeman said. “They got themselves a marshal.”

  Pool gave a contemptuous snort. “I’m not worried about some two-bit tin badge.”

  In a quiet voice, Mitchell said, “The fella packing the star in Buckskin is Frank Morgan.”

  Pool’s eyes widened in surprise. “Morgan? The one they call The Drifter?”

  “His own self,” Mitchell confirmed.

  “Never thought anybody as fiddle-footed as Morgan would ever settle down and take a marshal’s job. I’ve wanted to cross trails with him for a long time.” Pool grinned again. “You’re right, that is interestin’. Mighty interestin’.”

  He started to laugh. It wasn’t a pretty sound.

  Behind him, the rest of the gang had finished emptying the pockets of Gates Tucker and Dagnabbit Dabney. Now, some of them picked up the bodies and started to carry them toward the ravine, where they would be tossed in to await the scavengers.

  “What’s goin’ on over there?” Mitchell asked as he looked past Pool.

  “Never mind about that,” Pool said. “Tell me more about this place called Buckskin.”

  * * * *

  Garrett Claiborne wanted to go out and have a look at the Crown Royal Mine the same afternoon he arrived in Buckskin, but Frank convinced him it was too late in the day for that. Although Frank had a good general idea of the mine’s location and was sure he could find it, he hadn’t been out there himself since coming to Buckskin, even though he knew he was a part-owner of the property.

  Instead, Frank took Claiborne around town and introduced him to people, explaining that Claiborne had come to reopen the Crown Royal. That created quite a bit of interest among Buckskin’s merchants, especially Leo Benjamin. Another working mine meant more miners with money to spend.

  When they went into the offices of the Lucky Lizard Mining Company, Tip Woodford wasn’t there, but Diana was. She was seated at a desk, going over columns of figures entered in a ledger. Frank knew that Diana did some of the bookkeeping work for her father, but he had never seen her actually engaged in that chore. Nor had he seen her wearing spectacles, as she was now.

  To tell the truth, they didn’t look bad on her.

  She seemed embarrassed, though, and reached up to remove the spectacles as soon as she saw Frank coming in to the office. She put a smile on her face and said, “Hello, Marshal. What are you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d stop by and introduce Garrett Claiborne here to your father,” Frank said.

  “I’m sorry, he’s still out at the mine. But I’m glad to meet you, Mr…. Claiborne, was it?”

  “That’s right,” the mining engineer said. “I take it you’re Miss Woodford?” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.”

  Diana stood up and took his hand. “Why, Mr. Claiborne, how gallant of you. With a name like that, I assume you’re Southern?”

  “From Georgia, ma’am,” Claiborne said, although to Frank’s ear he didn’t have much of a Southern accent, certainly not one like Claude Langley’s. Frank supposed that since Claiborne was a mining engineer, he had lived all over, which had a way of diminishing an accent.

  “What brings you to Buckskin?” Diana asked.

  “I work for the Browning Mining Syndicate. I’ve come to take charge of the Crown Royal Mine and put it back into operation.”

  Diana’s eyebrows rose, and her voice was a little cooler as she said, “Really? I wasn’t aware that there were any plans to do that.”

  “Yes, indeed. Once we found out about your father’s rediscovery of the Lucky Lizard vein, we decided it would be worthwhile to do some further explorations in the Crown Royal.”

  “I suppose the word was bound to get out.”

  “Yes, when we heard from—”

  Frank broke into the conversation, saying, “I reckon most folks in Nevada have heard about the new strike by now.” No one in Buckskin knew that he had any stake in the Crown Royal, and he wanted to keep it that way. Folks had a way of treating wealthy people differently. He preferred to remain just plain old Frank Morgan. The reputation as a gunfighter that he carried with him was bad enough without people knowing he was rich too.

  Evidently, Claiborne was smart enough to pick up on what Frank’s interruption meant, because he said, “Yes, the word’s spread far and wide by now. In fact, the Alhambra Mine will be opening again too. It was bought not long ago from the original owner, Milton Jernigan, by a man named Hamish Munro.”

  Frank was curious about that. After Claiborne’s earlier comment about Munro, not much more had been said about the man. Now Frank asked, “Did Munro know about the strike before he bought the Alhambra?”

  “My understanding is that he did not. Munro makes a habit of buying old mines and claims, on the chance that he can make something of them where the original owners failed. More often than not, he’s right.” Claiborne smiled. “But he had a real stroke of luck with the Alhambra, even more so than usual. That’s why, according to the rumors I’ve heard, he’s coming to Buckskin to supervise the mine’s operation personally.”

  “You don’t know that he’s going to be lucky,” Diana pointed out. “No offense, Mr. Claiborne, but most of the prospectors who have come here looking for silver haven’t found any yet. My father is the only one who’s been really successful.”

  Claiborne shrugged. “It’s possible that the Crown Royal vein really is played out. But mining methods have improved in the past decade, Miss Woodford. We can find and remove ore with greater ease and efficiency now than we could then. So there’s really only one way to find out.”

  “Well, I wish you luck.” Diana laughed. “At any rate, it’s good to have such a handsome, intelligent man as yourself in Buckskin. I hope we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, even though we’re competitors.”

  Claiborne’s face turned a little pink at the flattery. “Ah, yes,” he managed to say. “Indeed.”

  Frank put a hand on Claiborne’s shoulder to steer him toward the door of the office. “Tell Tip we came by,” he said to Diana.

  “I certainly will,” she replied, giving him a cool, challenging look. Then she gave Claiborne another smile and added, “Stop in to see me any time you like, Garrett.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said as he tipped his hat to her.

  Frank knew good and well what Diana was doing. She was playing up to Claiborne in an attempt to make him jealous. That was just fine with him, because it wasn’t going to work. In fact, he hoped the tactic backfired on her and she really did get interested in Claiborne. That would solve Frank’s problem of figuring out what to do about her. And even though Claiborne was considerably older than Diana, the age difference wasn’t nearly as much as it was between her and Frank.

  Yeah, he thought, a romance between the two of them would suit him just fine.

  He might even have to play cupid, just to nudge things along.

  Chapter 7

  After taking Claiborne’s buggy down to Amos Hillman’s livery stable, Frank talked the mining engineer into spending the night at his house, since he planned to sleep on the cot in the marshal’s office anyway.

  Early the next morning, with Catamount Jack taking over as deputy, Frank saddled up Goldy and got ready to ride out to the Crown Royal with Claiborne. In the stall across the aisle, Stormy tossed his head angrily when he saw Frank leading out the other horse.

  “Don’t worry, fella,” Frank said to the Appaloosa. “You’re not being replaced. I just want to see how Goldy here acts on the trail.”

  Goldy’s injuries were mostly healed, and the gelding acted eager to stretch his legs. Dog came along too, trotting alongside the horse as Frank rode over to the café, where he had arranged to meet Garrett Claiborne. As he got there, Claiborne came out of the building, followed by Becky Humphries, who was wipin
g her hands on her apron. Pretty, redheaded Becky was the youngest of the three women who ran the café, and she was smiling as she said, “Y’all come back to see us any time, Mr. Claiborne.”

  He tugged on the brim of his hat. “I’ll do that, Miss Humphries. I must say, those biscuits were some of the best I’ve ever eaten.”

  Becky blushed. “Go on with you, you flatterer,” she said with a little laugh.

  Looking a little embarrassed, Claiborne said to Frank, “Ready to go, Marshal?”

  “Yep. Amos has got your buggy horse harnessed up and waiting for you.”

  Claiborne nodded. “I’ll be right back then.” He headed toward the livery stable, his stride brisk.

  “Mornin’, Marshal,” Becky said. “I like that new friend of yours.”

  “He seems like a decent sort,” Frank agreed. “I didn’t know you were a Southern girl.”

  Becky’s accent became more pronounced as she said, “Why, Ah suspect there’s a whole heap o’ things you don’t know about li’l ol’ me, Marshal.”

  “Uh-huh,” Frank said with a dry grin. Becky was used to playing up to men; it was sort of an occupational habit with her. She had probably gotten Claiborne to admit that he was from Georgia, and that was all it took for Becky to transform herself into a Southern belle.

  The thing of it was, Frank didn’t know if he wanted Becky flirting with Claiborne or not. He had hoped to distract Diana Woodford with the mining man, and if Claiborne got mixed up with Becky, then Frank would be right back where he started with Diana.

  He supposed he could let it drop to Claiborne that Becky used to be a whore…but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Frank discarded it and scolded himself for even thinking such a thing. He liked Becky—and her partners Lauren and Ginnie too, for that matter—and didn’t want to embarrass them.

  A man his age shouldn’t still have to be worrying about romance and suchlike, he told himself. He ought to be past all that. Dealing with gunmen and outlaws and killers was a mite easier, most of the time.

  Claiborne rattled up in the buggy. Becky waved good-bye as Frank and Claiborne headed out of town.

  As they left the settlement behind, Claiborne said, “You, ah, seem to have an abundance of attractive young women in Buckskin, Marshal. Miss Humphries and the other two ladies in the café, and of course Miss Woodford…”

  Frank chuckled. “I hate to break it to you, Mr. Claiborne, but with those four, you’ve already met all the eligible females in Buckskin. Trudy Benjamin, who runs the boardinghouse, is married. You met her husband Leo at the general store yesterday.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.”

  “They’re the only women in town, for now anyway. I’d be surprised if more don’t show up soon, though. You’ve been around boomtowns before, so you know what I mean.”

  “Ah, yes. I certainly do.” Claiborne sounded like he didn’t approve.

  A decade earlier, when the Crown Royal was still operating, a decent road had run between the mine and the settlement. Over the years, nature had reclaimed some of the road, until it was now just a narrow trail. Claiborne had trouble negotiating some of it in the buggy.

  “We’re going to have to improve this route,” he said between bumps and jolts. “We’ll be bringing wagonloads of ore over this trail.”

  “Assuming there are wagonloads of ore still to be found,” Frank pointed out.

  “Yes, of course. But I have a feeling there will be.”

  Frank hoped Claiborne was right, not so much for his own sake, but for Conrad’s and also for the town’s. With several successful mines operating in the vicinity, Buckskin might grow into a fine city.

  “This is beautiful country,” Claiborne said a short time later as they rounded a bend in the trail and the landscape sprawled out in front of them in an impressive panorama of wooded hills, lush valleys, and stark, snowcapped mountains looming over all of it. “Quite rugged and uncivilized, of course, but still beautiful.”

  “It’s not as uncivilized as you might think,” Frank said. “If it was, we’d have to be worrying about Paiutes lifting our hair right now. Wasn’t all that many years ago such things were still going on. Now, though, all the Indians have been pacified. The grizzly bears and the cougars have retreated up higher in the mountains, and even the diamondback rattlers aren’t as common as they used to be.” Frank shook his head. “No, the only real danger you’re liable to run into now comes from outlaws.”

  “There are still outlaws in this area?”

  “There are outlaws anywhere you go, if there are people there,” Frank said. “It’s human nature for some folks to be downright ornery and crooked.”

  “I suppose.” Claiborne let go of the reins with one hand and pointed. “There! Is that the mine?”

  “I believe it is,” Frank said.

  They arrived at the Crown Royal a few minutes later. Frank was surprised to see that several buildings were still standing, including a large one where the narrow-gauge railroad tracks that emerged from the hole in the side of the hill terminated. That was the stamp mill, where the ore brought out of the mine in carts was pulverized so the silver could be separated out from the worthless rock. The mine superintendent had probably had his office in there too. Nearby was a long, low building that must have served as the barracks for the miners. There was also a cookshack, a mess hall, and several storage sheds. Frank guessed that was what those buildings had been used for, anyway.

  Claiborne brought the buggy to a halt, looked around, and said, “Well, this is quite impressive. Everything appears to be in better shape than I thought it would be. I’ll have to take a closer look to be sure, of course.”

  Frank swung down from the saddle and looped Goldy’s reins around the trunk of a sapling. “Let’s go take that look,” he suggested.

  Claiborne climbed out of the buggy and headed straight for the mine entrance. “I want to check the shoring timbers in the shaft,” he said over his shoulder as Frank and Dog followed him. After a second, Dog bounded ahead and darted toward the black opening in the hillside.

  “Probably smelled a rabbit in there,” Frank said.

  Claiborne stopped short and cast a nervous look in Frank’s direction. “What if it’s one of those grizzly bears or mountain lions you mentioned?”

  “Dog’s got more sense than to charge into a hole that’s got a grizz or a cougar in it,” Frank assured him. The big, wolflike cur disappeared into the shaft. Loud barks echoed as Dog gave chase to whatever prey had lured him in there.

  Frank and Claiborne both stopped short as they heard a low rumble from inside the mine. “Damn it!” Frank said. “Dog! Dog! Get out of there!”

  “Good lord!” Claiborne said. “The noise must have set off a cave-in!”

  Frank started forward at a run. He and Dog had been trail partners for a long time, had endured a lot of hardship and danger together. The idea of the big cur being trapped in a cave-in horrified him.

  To his great relief, Dog darted back into sight at the mine entrance, racing out of the black shaft as a cloud of dust boiled from the opening behind him. Claiborne groaned as the rumble of falling rock died away.

  “The timbers must have been practically rotted away,” he said. “There’s no telling how much damage was done.”

  “Sorry,” Frank said as Dog came trotting up to them. “To tell you the truth, I never even thought about the old fella causing a cave-in.”

  Claiborne sighed. “It’s all right. I suppose in a way it’s a blessing. The most unstable parts of the shaft will have already collapsed, and now it won’t be quite as dangerous when we go in there to dig it out and shore up the rest of the tunnels.”

  “You hear that, boy?” Frank said with a grin as he scratched Dog’s ears. “Good job.”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Claiborne said, “but this is certainly not an insurmountable obstacle.”

  They spent the next hour examining the shaft and the buildings. Frank felt a twinge of nervousness w
hen he stepped in to the hole in the hillside, but Claiborne looked at the thick timbers supporting the roof and told him it was safe enough. Still, Frank was glad to be back in the open air.

  Most of the machinery in the stamp mill had been dismantled and hauled away when the mine was closed down before, but as Claiborne said, “That’s all right. We’ll bring in more modern equipment and do an even better job now. There have been great improvements in the pulverization and amalgamation processes in the past ten years.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Frank said, “even though I don’t really know what you’re talking about. But if Conrad Browning has faith in you, Garrett, then so do I.”

  “I won’t let you and Mr. Browning down, Marshal.”

  When they had finished looking around, Claiborne nodded and said, “I don’t see why we can’t have this mine up and running in a month, maybe less, depending on how many workers we’re able to hire. The initial expenditure will be fairly high, but the Browning Mining Syndicate can afford it. I’ve seen the assay reports on the ore coming out of the Lucky Lizard now, and if we can approach the same quality here, the Crown Royal should be a lucrative venture once again.”

  “Well, whatever I can do to help you, just let me know. Most of my time is spent keeping the peace in town, of course, but I’ll be glad to lend a hand out here as much as I can.”

  Claiborne smiled. “Marshal, can I be blunt?”

  “Sure,” Frank said.

  “What I really need is for you to just stand back and let me get to work.”

  Frank laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I reckon I can do that!”

  * * * *

  On their way back to Buckskin, Frank and Garrett Claiborne had to pass fairly close to the Alhambra Mine, and when Frank asked if Claiborne wanted to take a look at the place, he shrugged and said, “We might as well. Just a quick look, though. I’m not sure it would be ethical to do too thorough an inspection of it, since it’s owned by a competitor.”