Hell Town

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 wiping 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 when 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.”

“That’s a good point,” Frank agreed. “Shouldn’t hurt anything to have a glance around, though.”

Frank found the trail that veered off toward the other mine, and he and Claiborne followed it for the next quarter of an hour as it ran around rugged hills and along spiny ridges. They came to a shelf of land that jutted out from a gray cliff that rose almost straight up for a couple of hundred feet. Several squarish towers of rock stuck up from the top of the cliff, like battlements on a castle or fortress. They were natural formations, but they had a striking, man-made look about them.

“I can see how the mine got its name,” Claiborne commented as he and Frank approached. “The original owner must have been a world traveler. That cliff bears a distinct resemblance to the Spanish palace known as the Alhambra.”

“I wouldn’t know about that, since I’ve never been there myself,” Frank said, “but I’ll take your word for it, Garrett.”

He reined in when they were still about fifty yards from a group of ramshackle buildings and the black mouth of a mine shaft in the hillside. From the looks of things, the Alhambra was in worse shape than the Crown Royal. Claiborne brought the buggy to a halt beside Frank.

“I don’t see any signs of life,” the engineer said. “Munro’s men must not have gotten here yet.”

“You’re sure this fella Munro’s going to open up this mine again?”

Claiborne smiled. “The mining industry is like any other business, Marshal. It’s full of rumors, and everyone tries to keep up with everyone else’s activities. From everything I’ve heard, Hamish Munro has high hopes for this—”

Before Claiborne could go on, Frank shouted, “Get down!” He had seen a telltale glint of sunlight on metal just inside at one of the windows in the old mill building.

Claiborne just looked confused and wasn’t budging, so Frank kicked his feet from the stirrups, leaped from the saddle, and landed in the buggy. He grabbed Claiborne and dived out the other side of the vehicle, dragging the startled engineer with him.

If that reflection he had seen didn’t mean anything, Frank was going to feel mighty silly when they hit the ground.

As they sprawled on the rocky earth, however, a rifle cracked and sent a bullet whistling through the space where Claiborne had been a few seconds earlier. Frank’s instincts had been right again—there was a bushwhacker lurking in the old stamp mill.

But as more shots slammed out and slugs began to kick up dust around them, Frank figured this was one time when it might have been better to be wrong!