Hell Town

Chapter 10

Back at the jail, Catamount Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder when Frank came in and said, “I got that fella locked up back yonder in one o’ the cells.”

Frank nodded. “That’s fine. You can let him out in the morning if you’re here. If not, I’ll take care of it.”

“Gonna fine him for tryin’ to kill you?”

Frank touched his throat, which was a little sore from Rogan trying to strangle him. “I probably ought to, but he lost all his money to Ed Kelley at the Top-Notch. That’s what he was so upset about. I reckon spending a night in jail will have to be punishment enough for him. That and losing his job, because Tip’s going to fire him for causing another ruckus.”

“Serves him right. We don’t have to feed him, do we? Can’t we at least let him go hungry tonight?”

“That wouldn’t be humane,” Frank said with a chuckle. “I’ll talk to the ladies over at the café and see if they’ll bring a tray over to him.”

Jack scowled in disapproval.

“And one for you too,” Frank added.

The old-timer perked right up at that. “See if that gal Ginnie can bring it over,” he suggested. “I think she likes me a mite.”

Frank tried not to grin. Plump, blond Ginnie Carlson liked most men; it was in her nature. It was a wonder that being a soiled dove for several years and dealing with them on a regular basis hadn’t soured her on the entire male population, but it hadn’t.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised.

A groan from the small cell block prompted him to step over to the door and look through it. Rogan stirred on the bunk where he had been placed, but he wasn’t fully conscious yet. Frank wondered if he ought to have Professor Burton take a look at Rogan, since the professor was the closest thing Buckskin had to a doctor. Frank hoped that Ed Kelley hadn’t cracked Rogan’s skull with that table leg.

A couple of minutes later, though, Rogan sat up, swung his legs off the bunk, and began cursing in a low, monotonous voice. Frank decided he was all right after all, probably just had one hell of a headache. Maybe a night in jail would help cure Rogan of that.

Frank lifted a hand in farewell as he left the office. “See you later,” he said to Jack.

He went over to the café, which wasn’t busy at the moment because the midday rush was over and it wasn’t time for supper yet. In fact, Lauren Stillman was the only person there. Older than Becky and Ginnie, she was in her early thirties. Rather than being classically beautiful, she was what some people called a handsome woman. The thick brown hair that fell around her shoulders softened her looks somewhat. She smiled at Frank and said, “Hello, Marshal. What can I do for you?”

He explained about wanting a couple of meals for Catamount Jack and the prisoner, and Lauren promised to take care of it, even down to agreeing to have Ginnie deliver the food to the jail.

“I heard about that fight you had with Dave Rogan,” she said.

“Word’s gotten around already?”

“Buckskin is a small town. Everybody knows everybody else’s business.” Lauren paused. “For example, I know that you’re having dinner with Diana Woodford tonight.”

“Well, not just with Diana,” Frank said. “Her pa will be there too, as well as that new mining engineer, Garrett Claiborne.”

“Yes, but the only one Diana is really interested in is you.”

Frank started to get uncomfortable. Lauren must have seen that, because she laughed.

“Surely I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, Frank,” she said with a hint of familiarity in her voice. The two of them had taken an easy, instinctive liking to each other as soon as the women arrived in Buckskin a few weeks earlier. “Like I said, in a small town everybody knows everybody else’s business.”

“There’s no business involving me and Diana Woodford,” Frank insisted.

“But that’s not because she wouldn’t like for there to be.”

Frank just shrugged. “Diana’s wasting her time. A young woman like her needs to find herself a more suitable fella. Somebody a whole lot younger than me.”

“With people like us, it’s not the years so much as it is the miles.”

“That’s the truth,” Frank said.

Lauren waited, as if halfway expecting him to say something else, but after a minute he just went on. “If you’ll see that those meals get sent over to the jail…”

“Of course,” she replied, her tone brisk and businesslike now. “Don’t worry about it, Marshal.”

“I’ll pay you for them—”

“No need. I’ll bill the mayor. It’s the town’s responsibility to feed prisoners, not yours.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“All right then.” Frank gave the brim of his hat a tug. “Be seeing you.”

As he turned and left the café, he thought he heard a sigh escape from Lauren Stillman. But he couldn’t be sure, so he just closed the door and kept walking.

Jack had been stuck in the office most of the day, so Frank relieved him for a while, giving the old-timer a chance to go back to his cabin and check on Eldorado, the rangy mule that had accompanied Jack on numerous prospecting trips. Eldorado was semiretired now, as was Jack himself. A man never really got the lure of gold and silver out of his veins, but some of them learned to live with it. Jack had, and he didn’t want to go prospecting anymore. At least, that was what he claimed.

When Jack got back to the office, Frank walked over to the small cabin the town was providing for his residence. Claiborne was inside, shaving and cleaning up. “Just thought I should make myself presentable,” he said.

“Good idea,” Frank agreed. Since Claiborne had a fire going in the stove, he heated some water for himself and got his razor out.

As dusk settled down over the rugged Nevada countryside, the two men walked toward the Woodford house, both of them freshly shaven and smelling of bay rum. Tip and Diana lived in the largest house in town, built with the proceeds from the first strike at the Lucky Lizard Mine more than a decade earlier. During the years Tip had lived there alone, after his wife left him and moved back East, taking Diana with her, he had allowed the house to deteriorate quite a bit. When Diana returned, she had taken one look at the place, rolled up her sleeves, and started in on the task of cleaning it up and fixing it up.

She had done a good job. The Woodford place was once again the nicest home in town. The picket fence in front had a fresh coat of whitewash on it, as did the walls of the two-story house itself. The flower beds had all the weeds pulled out of them, and flagstones had been carefully placed to make a walk leading to the front porch steps. The windows were all clean and glowed with warm yellow light from the lamps inside filtering through the curtains Diana had hung over them.

“What a lovely home,” Claiborne said as he and Frank went up the walk to the porch.

“You can give Diana credit for that,” Frank said. “An old pelican like Tip would just as soon live in a tent or a shack. Diana’s the one who fixed the place up. Yes, sir, she’ll make some lucky man a fine wife one of these days.”

“Indeed.”

They climbed to the porch and Frank knocked on the door. It opened a moment later. Diana greeted them with a smile and said, “Hello, gentlemen. Come right in.”

She wore a pale blue dress that went well with her blue eyes, fair skin, and blond hair, Frank thought. This was one of the few times he had seen her when she wasn’t wearing boots and jeans and a man’s shirt. This evening she looked utterly feminine—and so lovely she’d almost take a fella’s breath away.

She seemed to have that effect on Claiborne too, because he was having trouble finding his tongue. Finally, he said, “Ah…thank you, Miss Woodford. And thank you for inviting us to dinner.”

“We want to make you feel welcome in Buckskin, Mr. Claiborne.” She turned to Frank. “Let me take your hat, Marshal.”

Frank handed her his high-crowned Stetson. She took Claiborne’s bowler hat too, but seemingly as an afterthought.

Tip came down the stairs and joined them in the foyer. He wore a dusty brown tweed suit. His shirt had a stiff collar and there was a tie around his neck. He dug a finger under his collar and tugged on it as he grunted and said, “Howdy.”

Diana gave his hand a light slap and scolded, “Father, I told you to stop messing with your collar. It’s not going to kill you to dress like a civilized person for a change.”

“It might,” Tip said. “This here collar’s liable to choke me to death.”

“Look at how nicely Mr. Claiborne’s dressed, and he doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Reckon he’s more used to it than I am. Come on in the parlor, boys, and we’ll have a snort before dinner.”

Diana rolled her eyes but didn’t object. She said, “I’ll go check on the food.”

Tip led Frank and Claiborne into a comfortably furnished parlor and poured drinks for all three of them from a crystal decanter. As they sipped the smooth whiskey, Claiborne said, “You have a lovely home here, Mr. Woodford, and your daughter is quite lovely too.”

“Yeah, well, most o’ the time she’s pretty down to earth, but she likes to put on airs ever’ now and then. I reckon the way she was brought up had somethin’ to do with that. No offense to Diana’s ma, God rest her poor soul, but my wife could be a mite prissy when she wanted to. Diana’s been a lot happier here in Buckskin than I thought she’d be when she came out here to live with me.”

“It must have been difficult for her, losing her mother like that. I find her strength quite admirable.”

Frank said, “So do I. She’s a fine young woman.”

“We can stand here gabbin’ about Diana all night,” Tip said, “or we can talk about the mines. How’d the Crown Royal look to you, Claiborne?”

“Well…” Claiborne hesitated, and Frank figured he was naturally wary about discussing the operation with a rival mine owner.

Tip waved a blunt-fingered hand. “Oh, hell, don’t worry, I ain’t plannin’ on tryin’ to jump your claim. It’ll be fine with me if the Crown Royal’s a success again, because that’ll be good for the town.”

“In that case,” Claiborne said, “I don’t mind telling you that I think opening the mine again won’t pose too much of a problem. There’ll be plenty of hard work that needs to be done, of course, but if I can hire some good men, we can meet the challenge.”

“I know of one man you can hire. Name of Rogan.”

Frank caught Claiborne’s eye and shook his head. “Wouldn’t be a good idea,” he said. “The hombre’s a troublemaker.”

“Oh, hell, I was just joshin’,” Tip said. “I wouldn’t have let the young fella hire Rogan. But I sure as shootin’ fired him. Went by the jail and talked to him just a little while ago, told him he was through at the Lucky Lizard.”

“How’d he take it?” Frank asked.

“Not good. Grabbed the bars and rattled ’em while he was cussin’ at me. He didn’t settle down until ol’ Catamount Jack stuck a Greener in his face and warned him he wouldn’t get no supper unless he stopped carryin’ on so.”

“He does sound like a troublemaker,” Claiborne said. “I hope all the men in Buckskin aren’t like that.”

“Not hardly,” Frank assured him. “I’ll give you a hand finding some fellas who want to work.”

Before they could discuss any more business, Diana appeared in the doorway of the parlor and announced, “Dinner is ready.”

It was good too. Fried chicken, greens and potatoes out of the garden patch behind the house, and biscuits and gravy. Frank praised the food, which made Diana blush with pleasure, but the words were more for Claiborne’s benefit. He wanted to make sure the mining engineer understood just what a fine catch Diana would be.

Claiborne was shy, and even though he could be glib enough when he did speak, he kept his mouth shut most of the time, no matter how much Frank tried to get him and Diana to talking. Still, she seemed to like Claiborne well enough, so Frank was a little encouraged.

When it came time for them to go, though, after the men retreated to the parlor for some brandy and cigars, Diana was waiting on the porch to bid them good night. She lingered the longest on her farewell to Frank, putting her hand on his arm and saying, “Please come back anytime, Marshal.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a gruff voice. He put a hand on Claiborne’s shoulder and practically shoved him forward.

“It was a wonderful evening, Miss Woodford,” he said. “The food was delicious and, well, no man could complain about the company.”

“How sweet of you. Good evening, Mr. Claiborne.”

As they walked away, once they were out of earshot, Claiborne said, “Miss Woodford really is a fine young woman. You’re a fortunate man, Marshal.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Obviously, she’s fond of you. I believe she’s set her cap for you.”

“I’m old enough to be her father, blast it!” Frank turned and poked a finger against Claiborne’s shoulder. “She needs somebody younger, like you.”

“Me? Why, I would never dream of interfering with someone else’s romance.”

“There’s no romance to interfere with,” Frank insisted.

“Perhaps not in your mind, but in the young lady’s, who knows?” Claiborne laughed. “And when it comes to matters of the heart, Marshal, we both know that as men, we don’t really have all that much say in the matter, now do we?”

That was true, unfortunately, Frank thought with a frown.

But he had planted a seed anyway, he hoped, and maybe someday it would grow into something.