From that porch, Frank had a good vantage point on the fracas taking place in the street. A miner was sprawled on his back, obviously having just been knocked down by Gunther Hammersmith, who loomed over him with clenched fists. Hammersmith reached down, grabbed the miner’s shirt, and hauled him to his feet, only to draw back and wallop him again. Hammersmith’s big fist landed on the man’s jaw with a meaty thud, and the miner flew through the air to come crashing down on his back again.
“I’ll teach you to be disrespectful to a lady, damn you!” Hammersmith bellowed.
Frank glanced to his right. Jessica Munro stood on the boardwalk just past the porch in front of Leo’s store. She was dressed up in a fancy gown and carried a parasol to keep the sun off her face, which at the moment was set in an agitated expression.
“Please, Mr. Hammersmith!” she called. “This isn’t necessary—”
“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but it is,” Hammersmith insisted as he grabbed the hapless miner again, jerked him to his feet, and poised a malletlike fist to strike another devastating blow.
Frank palmed his Colt from its holster, eared back the hammer so that the metallic ratcheting of the action sounded loud in the street, and said, “Hold it right there, Hammersmith.”
Chapter 17
Hammersmith froze with the punch undelivered. He looked over his shoulder and found himself staring down the muzzle of Frank’s gun. Eyes narrowing in anger, he said, “This is none o’ your damn business, Marshal.”
Remembering what Garrett Claiborne had told him about some of the things Hammersmith had done in the past, Frank said, “It’s my business if you’re about to try to beat a man to death in my town, mister.”
Hammersmith’s lip curled. He gave the miner a hard shove that sent the man off his feet again. “If I was to beat this bastard to death, it wouldn’t be any more than he had comin’ to him.”
“What did he do to deserve that?”
“He was tryin’ to get a peek under Mrs. Munro’s dress while she walked along that high porch!”
Frank glanced at Jessica Munro. Her face was flushed with embarrassment now as she looked down at the ground. “Is that true, ma’am?” he asked her.
“I…I don’t really know. I was just out walking…I like to take a daily constitutional, you know…and that man… that man came up in the street alongside the porch. He was talking to me…paying his respects, he said—”
“Disrespects is more like it!” Hammersmith broke in. “I was coming the other way along the boardwalk and saw what he was doin’. Sneakin’ peeks at the lady’s calves!”
“Really, Mr. Hammersmith,” Jessica said in a weak voice, and Frank wondered if she was more embarrassed by what the miner had done or by Hammersmith’s bellowing about it like an angry old bull.
Frank had seen Hammersmith in town several times over the past few weeks, usually going in or out of the hotel that Hamish Munro had taken over. Whether by accident or design, though, their paths hadn’t crossed. Frank had heard that the miners who worked for Munro had struck the vein again in the Alhambra, and the mine was producing a decent amount of high-grade ore. He knew from talk he had overheard in the saloons that Hammersmith had hired enough men to have a full crew at the mine, and he worked them hard too, keeping shifts down the shaft day and night, and the stamp mill working full-blast too. He was known to be a hard, even brutal taskmaster, just as Claiborne had said.
This incident today didn’t have anything to do with the mine, though. The man Hammersmith had been abusing wasn’t one of his workers. Frank recognized the miner as being one of Tip Woodford’s employees. He also suspected that the man
“All right, this is over,” Frank said. “Whatever that hombre did or didn’t do, he’s been walloped a few times for it, and that’s punishment enough.” He glanced at Jessica. “Unless Mrs. Munro wants to press charges of disturbing the peace against him…”
She shook her head. “No, that’s all right. Let the poor man go, Marshal.”
The miner had managed to sit up, and was shaking his head back and forth groggily. Frank said, “He’s a mite addled right now, ma’am, but when he gets his wits about him, I’ll send him on his way.”
“Thank you.”
“As for you, Hammersmith,” Frank went on, “I reckon I can’t blame you for defending a lady’s honor. Remember, though, we’ve got law in Buckskin. If you’ve got a problem with somebody, you can come take it up with me.”
A harsh laugh came from Hammersmith. “I stomp my own snakes, Morgan. You’d best remember that. And this is the second time you’ve pointed a gun at me.”
“Second time you’re lucky I didn’t shoot you,” Frank countered.
Hammersmith glowered even more. “Next time, we’re liable to finish this,” he threatened.
Frank lowered the Colt’s hammer and holstered the gun. “Reckon that’ll be up to you,” he said.
Hammersmith glared at him for a second longer, then turned to Jessica and said, “I’ll escort you back to the hotel, ma’am.”
“Really, Mr. Hammersmith, that’s not necessary.”
“I insist.”
Jessica smiled, and Frank thought that despite her protests and her embarrassment over the incident, she was pleased that Hammersmith had been willing to give somebody a thrashing on her account. With that coy smile on her face, she allowed Hammersmith to slip his arm through hers and walk beside her as they headed along the street toward the hotel. They hadn’t gone a block before she was laughing at something Hammersmith had said.
