Frank stepped up to the batwings and pushed them open, stepping inside the saloon.
The two outlaws were at the far end of the long bar, having whiskies. They did not turn around to look at Frank as he walked in. For that time of day the saloon was doing a good business. About half the tables were filled with drinkers and card players. The young man from the livery was seated at a table with several older men. Several heavily painted, rouged, and powdered-up soiled doves were working the crowd -- without a lot of luck, Frank observed.
Frank walked to the bar and ordered a beer. He would have preferred coffee, but wanted to blend in for a few minutes without drawing undue attention to himself.
The talk was mostly about the mines playing out, the town slowly dying, and all the silver that was waiting to be shipped out. Frank could catch a few words here and there as he stood at the bar and sipped his beer.
Suddenly the talk died out, and the large room became silent. Frank sighed. He knew what had probably happened: somebody had recognized him.
'Hell,' a man said, his voice unnaturally loud in the silence, 'his name ain't Logan. I don't give a damn what he told you, Booker. That's Frank Morgan!'
_Booker must be the young man from the livery_, Frank thought. _Well, it's all out in the open now._
The two outlaws at the far end of the bar turned to stare. Frank ignored them.
'Well, well,' one of the outlaws said. 'If it ain't the man all them books was writ about. I thought you had done up and died of old age, Morgan.'
'Not hardly,' Frank said softly, struggling to remember the man's name. Then it came to him: Davy something-or-another. Jonas was the other fellow's name. They were cousins.
'I know some folks who will be awful happy to hear you're in town, Morgan,' Jonas said. He grinned, exposing a row of yellow teeth.
'I imagine so, Jonas. But how are you going to get the news to them?'
'Huh? Why I'll just ride out of here, you dummy!'
'You'll have to go through me to do that. You feel up to that?'
'They's two of us, Morgan,' Davy said.
'I can count, Davy,' Morgan replied, lifting the mug of beer with his left hand. His right hand stayed close to the butt of his .45. 'But I don't care if there's five of you. You still won't get past me.'
The men seated at the nearest tables began pushing their chairs back, getting away from what they were sure would turn into gunplay any second.
'You got no call to do this, Morgan,' Jonas said. 'We ain't done nothin' to you.'
'Not personally, Jonas. But you both offend me.'
'We both does what?' Davy asked, quickly adding, 'What the hell does that mean?'
'You offend a lot of people, Davy. And you both are wanted by the law for murder.'
'That's a damn lie!' Jonas said.
'No, it isn't, boys. I've seen the dodgers on you.'
Davy's right hand started moving slowly toward the butt of his pistol. Frank's voice stopped him.
'Don't do it, Davy. I'll kill you where you stand.'
Davy put his hand back on the bar.
Without taking his eyes off the two outlaws, Frank raised his voice and said, 'One of you men go get the keys to the jail. Right now! Move!'
Several men rose from their chairs and left the saloon.
'What do you aim to do with us, Morgan?' Jonas asked.
'Put you in jail.'
'Mayhaps we don't want to go to jail,' Davy said. 'What then?'
'Then I'll kill you,' Frank replied, taking several steps closer to the pair of outlaws.
'You're just foolin' yourself, Morgan, if you think you're man enough to take both of us,' Jonas told him.
Frank just smiled and moved closer.
'You stop right where you is!' Davy shouted. 'We don't want no trouble, Morgan.'
'That's up to you, boys,' Frank said, stepping closer. 'But if you don't want trouble, drop those gunbelts and stand easy.'
'You go to hell, Morgan!' Jonas said, and he grabbed for his pistol.
Frank hit him with a fast, hard left, connecting squarely with the outlaw's jaw and dropping him to the floor.
Davy cussed wildly, then panicked and tried to run. Frank tripped him as he attempted to push past, and he hit the floor. Frank jerked the outlaw's pistols from leather and, using one of them, popped Davy on the noggin, dropping him into dreamland for a few minutes.
Jonas was groaning and trying to get to his boots. Using Jonas's gun, Frank laid it against the man's head,
