Frank leaned forward in the saddle. “I reckon you heard about what happened yesterday over at the Lucky Lizard?”
Hammersmith gave a harsh laugh. “Yeah. It seems like you’re always bringing bad news for somebody else when you come out here.”
“You have to ask yourself why I think of you every time something bad happens at one of the other mines,” Frank said.
Hammersmith glared at him. “It’s because you’ve got it in for us,” he said. “You’ve got to blame somebody, so you try to make it look like me and Mr. Munro are responsible for everybody else’s problems.”
“The Crown Royal and the Lucky Lizard are both shut down right now,” Frank pointed out. “The Alhambra is the only big mine that’s producing any ore.”
Hammersmith sneered and waved that off. “Coincidence. It’s not our fault the Lucky Lizard ain’t so lucky after all, and we didn’t have anything to do with hiring those men to blow up the Crown Royal.”
“One of these days I’ll prove otherwise.”
His face flushing with anger, Hammersmith demanded, “Is that a threat?”
“No, just a promise,” Frank replied. “Somewhere out there is the proof I need to tie you and Munro to what’s been going on around here, and I’m going to find it, Hammersmith. And when I do, both of you will wind up behind bars where you belong…or dancing at the end of a hang rope, since men were killed at both of those other mines. That makes it murder as far as I’m concerned, and I’ll bet a jury would go along with that verdict.”
Hammersmith’s big hands clenched into fists. “Get the hell off this property,” he said. “You got no legal authority out here, Morgan. You know it and I know it.” He turned to the guard and snatched the rifle out of his hands. “Gimme that gun!”
Frank tensed. If Hammersmith made to shoot him, he would have no choice but to draw. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be forced to kill Hammersmith now, not until he had uncovered the evidence he needed to bring Hamish Munro to justice too.
Hammersmith swung back around toward Frank, but he didn’t raise the rifle. Obviously struggling to control his anger, he said, “Are you leavin’?”
“I’m going,” Frank said, “but that won’t save you and your boss from what’s coming to you. It’s only a matter of time, Hammersmith.”
Frank turned Stormy, well aware that by showing his back to Hammersmith, he was providing a target. Hammersmith cursed in a low, furious voice, but he kept the rifle pointed toward the ground, Frank saw when he glanced back over his shoulder.
He didn’t think Hammersmith could take too much more prodding. The man’s temper was too hair trigger for that. And now Frank had put Hammersmith on notice, as he had done with Munro, that he wasn’t going to stop investigating until he had the evidence he needed against them.
Now it was just a matter of time.
Chapter 25
Hammersmith was so furious at Morgan—and so worried that the marshal would make good on his promise to get the evidence he needed—that he didn’t even think much about Jessica Munro during his ride into town later that day. He was looking forward to possibly seeing her again, but today her loveliness didn’t fill his thoughts the way it often did.
No, the image in his brain now was that of Frank Morgan, dead and shot full of holes.
Unfortunately, that was never going to happen in a stand-up gunfight, and Hammersmith knew it. He was deadly with his fists and a fair shot with a rifle or a shotgun, but he couldn’t handle a revolver worth spit. He knew as well that he couldn’t hope to match Morgan’s blinding speed. If he had tried to bring that rifle up during the confrontation this morning, Morgan would have killed him without blinking an eye. Hammersmith was well aware of that, and so he had struggled mightily to control his temper.
He didn’t want to come
Still, he was convinced that Morgan had to be dealt with. The marshal had to go. Otherwise, Hammersmith and Munro ran the risk of Morgan finding someone who would testify against them. That was unlikely but not impossible, and the threat of prison or a hanging was great enough to convince Hammersmith that action was necessary.
Now he just had to see to it that Munro felt the same way. He brought his horse to a stop in front of the old hotel Munro had taken over for his headquarters, dismounted, and went inside.
At Hammersmith’s knock, Nathan Evers opened the door of Munro’s suite. The two men had been acquainted for several years, but that didn’t mean they liked each other. In fact, Hammersmith didn’t have much use for the prissy secretary.
He shouldered past Evers and said, “I need to see Mr. Munro.”
“He’s not here,” Evers said.
“Well, where is he?”
Evers shook his head. “I’m not sure. He said he was going to talk to several of the businessmen here in town. I think he plans to make offers to them for their establishments.”
“He wants to buy a bunch of stores?” Hammersmith asked with a frown.
“Mr. Munro believes in maintaining diversified financial holdings.”
Hammersmith grunted. “You mean he wants to own everything, not just the mine. He wants to turn Buckskin into a company town, so when the poor bastards who work for him have to buy anything, they’ll be giving their wages right back to him.”
