After the posse was gone. Frank made sure his canteen was full of fresh water. Then he looped an ammo belt over his shoulder and across his chest. The belt was filled with .44-.40 rounds. Every loop in his gunbelt was full of .45 cartridges, and he had more rounds for the rifle and pistols in his saddlebags.
He began slowly tracking the outlaw gang through the rocky terrain. It wasn't that difficult, for the outlaws had made no effort to hide their tracks.
It took Frank a couple of slow-riding and very cautious hours to reach a good vantage spot about a hundred yards from the mouth of the pass. There he dismounted in a small patch of grass, eased the cinch strap, and let his horse blow and then graze. Frank took a pair of binoculars from his saddlebags, looped them around his neck, then slipped his .44-.40 from the boot. He climbed up the rocky ridge for about a hundred feet or so and settled himself in for a long, careful look-see.
What he saw was the nearly impassable entrance to the pass, and he had no doubts about it being guarded by at least two men around the clock. It was as he had been told: if you didn't know your way through, you would be in deep trouble. Even if you did know the tricky route, one of the Pine and Vanbergen guards would surely nail you if you tried.
The ways around the range were about forty miles east or west, and by the time a posse reached the outlaw stronghold they would be long gone.
'Damn,' Frank muttered. He knew that north of the pass and the outlaw stronghold the terrain was badlands for miles and miles. A railroad spur line came down to a small town just north of the badlands, and that is where the mines in Barnwell's Crossing took their silver to be shipped out ... providing they could get it to the spur line by wagons, which meant rolling right through outlaw territory on the single road that led to the tracks. Only about half of the silver-laden wagons had made it through thus far.
Frank watched the pass for half an hour before deciding he was accomplishing nothing by staying there. The only way the outlaw stronghold could be taken was with an army, and that would still mean a terrible loss of life.
Frank climbed down to his horse, tightened the cinch strap, and swung into the saddle, holding his rifle in his right hand, across the saddle horn. He headed back to town, feeling that he had accomplished very little with his long ride to the pass.
He rode into town just after dark, stabled his horse, and walked over to the jail. Jerry had fed the prisoners after Doc Bracken had made his daily visit to check on the wounded, and he had just made a fresh pot of coffee.
'Didn't expect to see you back this early, Frank.'
'I looked over the entrance to the pass and decided this was not a good day to die,' Frank said, pouring a mug of coffee. 'The place is a death trap.'
'The south entrance sure is. The best way in is from the north.'
'But we don't have any authority up there,' Frank told him, 'I wonder why Colorado won't deal into this game with us?'
'I don't know if they've even been asked.'
'I know there's a few small towns just north of the border with us. On the edge of the badlands. But Pine and Vanbergen are smart in that they don't pull anything up there, so they're not wanted in those areas.'
It was a policy that was slowly dying out in the West, but for many years if a man was not wanted in a specific area or community, the local lawman would, in many instances, leave him alone as long as he did not cause trouble within that lawman's jurisdiction.
'Was either the mine owner or the foreman married?' Frank asked.
'Yes. Both of them. Wives are here. But neither of them had kids.'
'That's good ... that is, if anything about this mess can be called good.'
'What about this Charles Dutton fellow, Frank? I just don't like that uppity bastard.'
'Neither do I, Jer. I think something is going to break loose here in town very quickly now.'
'Because this Dutton dude is here?'
'Yes. And Big Bob Mallory and Kid Moran, and those four assassins who came after Viv and me, and all the rest of it. Dutton is tied in with it all. I'm sure of it. I just don't know the big picture yet.'
'This is gettin' mighty complicated, Frank.'
'A fellow named Sir Walter Scott wrote some verse once that went something like: 'O, what a tangled web we weave.' I don't remember the rest of it. But that much did stick in my mind.'
'This mess is sure all tangled up, for a fact.'
A citizen stuck his head in the office. 'Marshal, sorry to disturb, but I thought you ought to know that Kid Moran is back in town. I was usin' the privy -- just steppin' out, that is, after I -- finished my business -- when I seen him coming down the back way of the hotel. Usin' them steps that lead up to the fancy rooms. He was sort of slippin' down them, real quiet like, if you know what I mean.'
'Thank you,' Frank said. 'I appreciate it.'
'It's my pleasure, Marshal, for shore. If I see anything else suspicious like I think you should know about, I'll get right over to you with it.'
'Thanks.'
After the citizen had closed the door and walked on, Jerry asked, 'What was that all about?'
'Charles Dutton has the most expensive suite in the hotel rented for his stay here.'
'You think he's tied in with Kid Moran? A fancy Dan rich man like that?'
'It wouldn't surprise me any. Way this situation is shaping up here in town nothing would surprise me
