Kelley’s eyes narrowed for a second, as if he were thinking about taking offense at that question, but then he chuckled and shook his head.
“I guess being a lawman you have to ask that question, eh?”
“I like to know what’s going on in my town,” Frank admitted.
It was amazing how quickly he had come to think of Buckskin as
“Well, in the interests of full disclosure…no, I wasn’t cheating, Marshal. I don’t have to cheat to win. Rogan is a reckless, impulsive player. I could clean him out any day of the week without half trying.”
Frank nodded. “All right. That’s pretty much the answer I was expecting, so I’ll take your word for it, Kelley. Just make sure you continue to run clean games here.”
“That’s what I’ve done every other place I’ve been.”
Frank turned to the other three miners and said, “This fella Rogan a friend of yours?”
“We work together at the Lucky Lizard,” one of them replied. “I wouldn’t say we were his friends.”
“Well, pick him up anyway and haul him down to the jail for me.”
Another of the men scowled. “We ain’t deputies that you can boss around, Marshal.”
“No, but you work for me,” Tip Woodford said from the doorway, “and if you want to keep on workin’ for me, you’ll do what the marshal asked.”
Some grumbling went on, but the three men did as they were told and lifted the still-unconscious Rogan. As they carried him out of the saloon, Frank called after them, “Tell my deputy to lock him up and keep him there until tomorrow morning.” Then he turned to Woodford and said, “I’m obliged for the helping hand, Tip.”
The owner of the Lucky Lizard frowned. “I heard that Rogan was in here raisin’ hell and got over here as soon as I could. Feel like it’s sort of my fault, since he works for me.”
“Just because you pay a man wages doesn’t make you his keeper,” Frank pointed out.
“Maybe not, but Rogan ain’t gonna be gamblin’ away any more money I pay him, because as soon as he comes to, I’m firin’ him. He’s been a troublemaker from the start, always complainin’ and tryin’ to stir up the men against me. I pay ’em decent wages and treat ’em decent too. I don’t need somebody like Dave Rogan around causin’ an uproar for no good reason.”
“I hope you don’t attach any blame to me for what happened, Mr. Woodford,” the saloon keeper said. “We haven’t met. I’m Ed Kelley.”
Tip shook hands with him and said, “No, I don’t blame you, Kelley. Ain’t your fault that Rogan’s an ornery bastard.”
“You own the Silver Baron Saloon as well as that mine, don’t you?”
“That’s right.”
Kelley slid a cigar from his vest pocket and put it in his mouth, leaving it unlit as he clamped his teeth on it. “Biggest saloon in Buckskin, or so I’ve heard. I haven’t checked it out for myself yet.”
“Stop by any time and have a drink on me,” Tip offered.
Kelley nodded. “I’ll do that.” He took a neatly folded handkerchief from the breast pocket of his coat and touched it to a cut on his forehead. “Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’d like to go clean up.” He gave Frank and Tip a pleasant nod and turned toward a door in the rear of the room. As an afterthought, he said to the bartender, “Get this mess straightened up in here.”
“Right away, Boss,” the man responded.
Frank and Tip left the saloon. “You’ve had a mighty busy day,” the mayor commented. “Trouble every which way you look, seems like.”
Frank nodded. “That’s what life is like in a boomtown,” he said.
Chapter 10
Back at the jail, Catamount Jack jerked his thumb over his shoulder when Frank came in and said, “I got that fella locked up back yonder in one o’ the cells.”
Frank nodded. “That’s fine. You can let him out in the morning if you’re here. If not, I’ll take care of it.”
“Gonna fine him for tryin’ to kill you?”
Frank touched his throat, which was a little sore from Rogan trying to strangle him. “I probably ought to, but he lost all his money to Ed Kelley at the Top-Notch. That’s what he was so upset about. I reckon spending a night in jail will have to be punishment enough for him. That and losing his job, because Tip’s going to fire him for causing another ruckus.”
“Serves him right. We don’t have to feed him, do we? Can’t we at least let him go hungry tonight?”
“That wouldn’t be humane,” Frank said with a chuckle. “I’ll talk to the ladies over at the cafe and see if they’ll bring a tray over to him.”
Jack scowled in disapproval.
“And one for you too,” Frank added.
The old-timer perked right up at that. “See if that gal Ginnie can bring it over,” he suggested. “I think she likes me a mite.”
Frank tried not to grin. Plump, blond Ginnie Carlson liked most men; it was in her nature. It was a wonder that being a soiled dove for several years and dealing with them on a regular basis hadn’t soured her on the entire male
