'Any truth in the rumor I heard years back, Frank?' Jimmy asked. ''bout you and Old Man Henson's daughter?' He held up one hand before Frank could say anything. 'I ain't pushin' none, Frank, and I sure ain't lookin' for trouble. But the rumor is still floatin' around.'
'Whatever happened was a long time ago, boys. Her father hated my guts. Now he's gone, and she's in a spot of trouble. That's why I'm here.'
'That's good enough for me,' Jimmy said. 'I won't bring it up no more.'
'I'll get some wires sent in the mornin',' Hal said. 'Then we'll see what happens.'
'Good deal,' Frank said, pushing his chair back. 'Where are you boys staying?'
'We got us a room at the hotel,' Jimmy told him. 'We picked us up a bit of money doin' some bounty huntin' work. Brought them two in alive, we did.'
Hal grinned. ''Course they was sorta shot up some, but they was alive.'
'What happened to them?' Frank asked.
'They got hanged,' Jimmy said.
Frank smiled and stood up. 'See you boys tomorrow.'
'Take it easy, Frank,' Hal told him.
Frank left the saloon, very conscious of a few hostile eyes on him as he walked. He had spotted the young trouble-hunters when he first pushed open the batwings: three of them, sitting together at a table, each of them nursing a beer.
Frank did not want trouble with the young hotheads who were -- more than likely -- looking for a reputation. All three were in their early twenties -- if that old -- and full of the piss and vinegar that accompanies youth. But the youthful piss was going to be mixed with real blood if they tangled with Frank Morgan.
Frank walked up and down both sides of the main street of town. All the businesses except the saloons, the two cafes, and the hotel were now closed for the night. Frank turned down the short street that angled off of Main and paused for a moment, standing in the shadows.
The street and the boardwalk were busy, but not overly crowded with foot traffic. Judging from the noise, the Red Horse Saloon was doing a booming business. A rinky-dink piano was playing -- only slightly out of tune -- and a female voice was singing -- also out of tune. Everything appeared normal.
But Frank was edgy. Something was wrong, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, or name. He had learned years back to trust his hunches. Over the long and violent years, that sixth sense had saved his life more times than he cared to remember.
Frank stepped deeper back into the shadows and waited, his pistol loose in leather, his eyes moving, watching the shadows across the street.
There! Right there! Frank spotted furtive movement in the alley between two boarded-up buildings across the street.
Frank squatted down in the darkened door stoop, presenting a smaller, more obscure target. His .45 was in his hand, and he did not remember drawing it. He eared the hammer back.
He watched as the shadows began to move apart and take better shape. Frank could first make out the shapes of three hats, then the upper torsos of the men as they stepped out of the alley and onto the boardwalk. He could not hear anything they were saying, if they were talking at all, because of the music and song from the Red Horse Saloon.
But he did catch a glint of reflection off the barrel of a rifle.
'They ain't huntin' ducks this time of night,' Frank muttered.
_But are they hunting me?_ he questioned silently. _And if so, why?_ He was sure they weren't the three young hotheads he'd seen back in the saloon.
He was further intrigued as he watched the men slip back into the alley and disappear from sight. Just then a door opened on Frank's side of the street and bright lamplight flooded the street and illuminated the alley he'd seen the men walk into.
But they were gone without a trace.
'What the hell?' Frank muttered. 'What in the hell is going on here?'
The door closed, and Frank sprinted across the wide street and darted into the alley. He paused, listening. He could hear nothing.
He moved on, to the end of the alley, stopping as he heard the low murmur of men's voices.
'I told you that bitch wasn't in her office this late. I told you both that.'
_What bitch?_ Frank asked himself.
'So OK, so you was right. We'll grab her tomorrow night.'
'Oncest we get the big boss lady, that brat kid of hern will gladly hand over the silver.'
'Yes,' the third man said. 'Shore a lot easier than waitin' for them to ship it.'
_Viv! They're after Viv._
'So what do we do now?'
Frank stepped out of the alley, his hands wrapped around the butts of both .45's. 'You stand right where you are, is what you do.'
The three men whirled around and the night exploded in gunfire.
