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*Thirteen*
Frank slept well that night, and no one came prowling around his house in the quiet of darkness. Jerry had fed the prisoners when Frank reached the jail the next morning. There had been no new additions to the cell block during the night. The two men walked over to the Silver Spoon to have breakfast.
'Any luck on finding out the dead man's name?' Angie asked, filling their coffee cups.
'Not yet,' Frank told her. 'We're going to try again after breakfast. But I have my doubts about whether his rifle and saddlebags will ever show up.'
'Another unmarked grave,' Angie said before moving off to take the order from another customer. 'People ought to carry something on them in the way of identification.'
'She's right about that,' Jerry said.
'I reckon so,' Frank replied, sugaring and stirring his coffee. 'There might even be a law about that someday.'
The men ate their breakfasts and watched as the town's population grew by about fifty people in just the time it took them to eat their food.
Several men, their clothing caked with the dirt of hard traveling, stepped into the cafe. 'Where's the gold strike?' one of them demanded in a very loud and irritating tone.
'What gold strike?' Angie asked.
'Lady, don't act stupid,' the second man said. 'We've come a long way for this.'
'There is no gold here,' Frank said in a low voice. 'Silver, not gold.'
'Who the hell asked you?' the man asked.
'And this is only a small sample of what we'll be facing in the weeks ahead,' Frank whispered to his deputy. He pushed his chair back and stood up, facing the two men. Their eyes flicked briefly to the star on Frank's vest. 'I didn't know I needed an invitation to speak.'
'That two-bit star don't mean a damn thing to me,' the man said.
'Yeah,' his partner said. 'Why don't you sit down and be quiet, Marshal?'
'I don't believe this,' Jerry muttered, pushing back his chair and standing up.
'Back off, mister,' a customer said softly. 'That's Frank Morgan.'
Both miners went suddenly slack-jawed and bug-eyed for a few seconds. They exchanged worried glances. The bigger of the pair finally found his voice. 'Sorry, Marshal Morgan. I guess we stepped over the line there.'
'It's all right, boys,' Frank told them. 'Sit down and have breakfast and cool down. The food is mighty good here.'
'Good idea,' the other miner said. 'I am hungry as a hog. Ain't neither one of us et since noon yesterday. After we eat maybe we can talk about the big gold strike.'
'Right,' Frank agreed with a small smile. 'The big gold strike.'
Frank and Jerry sat back down and Jerry said, 'We're really in for it if there is a rumor about gold here.'
'More than you know, Jerry. I've been in towns after several hundred very angry miners learned strike rumors were false. It can get real ugly in a hurry.'
'Look there,' Jerry said, cutting his eyes to the street.
Frank turned his head and watched as a dozen or so riders, all leading packhorses, rode up the street. 'Yeah. And it'll get worse.'
'At least they're not gunslicks.'
'Not yet,' Frank said. 'They'll come next, with the gamblers and con artists and whores.'
'There's Mrs. Browning's son,' Jerry said. 'Sneakin' around like he's been doin' for the past couple of days. He seems to be watchin' you, Frank.'
Frank looked and shook his head. 'I thought I saw him yesterday snooping around. That boy is mighty curious about me.'
'Any reason he should be?'
Before Frank could reply, the front door burst open. 'It's the Pine gang!'
'Here?' Frank blurted, jumping to his feet.
'Well...' the man said. 'One of them.'
Frank relaxed just a bit. 'One?'
'Who is it, Pete?' Angie called.
'That Moran kid. I seen him personal on the edge of town. He's just sittin' his horse and watchin'.'
'Kid Moran?' Frank asked. 'Here? Part of the Pine gang?'
'Yes,' Jerry replied. 'But that can't be proved. At least no one's ever come forward. I don't think there are any dodgers out on him, either.'
