and Jonas joined his partner, unconscious.
Frank took Jonas's gun from leather and laid all three pistols on the bar. The batwings were shoved open, and the men who had hustled from the bar reentered, one of them carrying several sets of handcuffs.
'The jail's unlocked, Mr. Morgan,' one of the men said, placing the cuffs on the bar. 'The keys to the cells are on the desk.'
'And the mayor's on the way to talk to you,' another citizen added.
'What's he want?' Frank asked, bending down and fitting the cuffs on the outlaws.
'Durned if I know. But he'll be along any minute now.'
'Name's Jenkins,' another citizen said, looking down at the two murderers.
'He's president of the bank,' the third man offered.
'Wonderful,' Frank said. 'We'll wait until these two yahoos can walk, then escort them to the jail. There's a telegraph office in this town, isn't there?'
'Oh, you bet, Mr. Morgan. If the wire's up, that is.'
'It's up,' a citizen called from the tables. 'I seen Mrs. Browning send some wires this mornin'.'
_Vivian_, Frank thought as something invisible and soft touched his heart....
'And that damn brat son of hers was with her,' the citizen added.
'Way he keeps that snooty nose of his stuck up in the air, he's gonna drown if he's caught out in a hard rain,' another citizen said.
'Sort of an uppity young man, is he?' Frank asked.
'Uppity?' one of the men blurted. 'Conrad thinks he's better than everyone.'
'Conrad?' Frank questioned.
'Conrad Browning. Sixteen or seventeen years old, I'd say. Big kid. And doesn't treat his mother with the proper respect, neither.'
Another man summed it up. 'He's a turd.'
_Vivian's father must have had a hand in raising the boy_, Frank thought.
'You know, Mr. Morgan,' a citizen pointed out, 'them outlaws is rumored to be part of the Pine and Vanbergen gangs?'
Frank shrugged. 'I know both of those no-counts. Why hasn't the law around here done something about them?'
'For one thing, the law can't catch them. For another, nobody is willin' to step up and point the finger at any of them. They always wear masks and dusters when they're robbin' people. The third thing is, law is scarce in these parts. We ain't had a marshal here in this town for months.'
'And the pay is real good, Mr. Morgan. I'm Will Moncrief, a member of the town council. The town may not have long to live as a silver boom town. Another two, three months, maybe. But while it does, we pay good money for a badge-toter. Why don't you take the job? You've wore a badge before.'
'And I'm on the council, too,' another citizen said. 'You want the job, Mr. Morgan?'
'Maybe. But it'll take more than the two of you to OK me, won't it?'
'There's four of us on the council, and the mayor,' Moncrief said. 'And -- '
The batwings were pushed open, interrupting Moncrief. A man stepped inside the saloon. 'And I'm the mayor of Barnwell's Crossing,' the neatly dressed man said. 'Mayor Jenkins. What's going on here?'
The crowd hushed up, and all eyes turned toward Frank.
'These two hombres on the floor are wanted men, Mayor,' Frank said. 'They're both murderers. Rewards out for them. I want to hold them in your jail until they're picked up.'
'Sounds all right to me,' Jenkins said. 'You took them without firing a shot?'
'Yes.'
'I know you. Seen your picture. You're Frank Morgan.'
'That's right. You have a problem with that, Mayor?'
'Oh, no. Not at all. You're not an outlaw. You've never been wanted anywhere for anything, as far as I know. And you've worn a badge a number of times, as I recall.'
'Yes, I have.'
'Want to wear another one?'
Frank paused dramatically, for effect. 'If the money's right, yes.'
'The money will be right -- I can assure you of that.'
'Let me lock these two no-counts up, and we'll talk about it, all right?'
Frank jerked the two members of the Pine and Vanbergen gangs to their feet and shoved them toward the batwings. He would send a wire to Arkansas just as soon as he locked the two down. What the state of Arkansas did after that was up to them.
Crossing the street, Davy said, 'The boys will come in here and tear this town apart, Morgan. They won't
