“What’re we gonna do about those strikin’ miners?”
“Now that the parts Munro and Hammersmith played in everything have come out, maybe we can talk some sense into them,” Frank said. “We’ll have to have another meeting.”
Claiborne looked around and asked, “Where
“They must have made it back to the hotel when all hell broke loose.” Frank had set the Winchester aside and was reloading his Colt. “I’ll go find them.”
“Better let us come with you,” Tip suggested. “Since they know they’re facin’ a lot of legal trouble now, they’re liable to put up a fight. That bruiser Hammersmith anyway. I ain’t sure Munro knows how to fight with anything except money.”
Frank considered the offer, but then shook his head. “You fellas have already fought your battle today. This is a job for Buckskin’s marshal, and that’s who I am, at least for now.”
He started toward the hotel. Behind him, Tip called, “Frank? What do you mean by that, Frank? Dadgummit —”
Frank didn’t pay any attention. He kept walking until he reached the boardwalk in front of the hotel. As he stepped into the lobby, he stopped short at the sight of Jessica Munro sitting on the stairs leading up to the second floor. Her face was red and streaked with tears, but she was still beautiful despite that.
“Marshal,” she said as she looked up and saw Frank. She came to her feet. “It’s terrible. They’re dead. They’re all dead.”
She hurried across the lobby to Frank, threw her arms around him, and sobbed.
Chapter 33
“She claims that Hammersmith shot Munro, then Evers shot Hammersmith and Hammersmith broke Evers’s neck before he died,” Frank told the others gathered in the office of the Lucky Lizard Mining Company.
“You reckon she’s tellin’ the truth?” Tip Woodford asked.
Frank shrugged. “I can’t prove that she’s not. My gut says she’s lying, at least about part of it, but that doesn’t change anything. Munro is dead, so that makes her the owner of the Alhambra. She wants you to settle the strike with all the miners, Tip, and she says she’ll go along with whatever agreement you negotiate with them.”
Diana said, “What’s she going to do? She’s not staying here in Buckskin, is she?” Her dislike for Jessica Munro was plain to hear in her voice.
Frank shook his head. “No, Mrs. Munro told me she’s going back to San Francisco as soon as she can. She’s not interested in having anything to do with running the mine. She’s going to hire a new superintendent and leave everything to him.”
“All she’ll do is collect the money,” Diana said.
“Yeah. I reckon she’ll do that, all right.”
Colonel Starkwell was also at this gathering. He said, “I don’t like the way Munro tried to use me and my men, Marshal, but I feel a responsibility to remain here and help maintain order until everything is settled.”
“And I appreciate that, Colonel,” Frank said with a nod. “All the miners are getting together over at the Silver Baron. Mayor Woodford and I will go talk to them. It might be best to keep your men outside for now, where they’ll be handy but the miners won’t feel threatened by them.”
Starkwell agreed. “But if you need our help, don’t hesitate to ask for it.”
“I won’t,” Frank promised, but he hoped above all else right now that the miners’ strike could be settled without any more violence.
Buckskin had seen enough bloodshed to last it a long time.
The meeting didn’t last long. Fighting a common enemy had rebuilt some of the bonds that had existed between Tip and the men who worked for him, and with Hamish Munro and Gunther Hammersmith both dead, along with Dave Rogan, the miners from the Alhambra had lost some of their anger. Tip’s workers knew that the Fowler brothers had been responsible for the cave-in and for stirring up the strike, and since Red Mike and Gib were dead as well, the miners were willing to get back to work with only a few concessions from Tip. The men from the Alhambra were willing to accept the same proposal, and Frank promised on behalf of the Crown Royal’s management to go along too, so that the wages and hours and safety conditions would be roughly consistent at all three of the major mines.
“You reckon young Claiborne will go along with that?” Tip asked after the meeting broke up and the workers headed back to the mines.
“I think I can pretty well guarantee it,” Frank said.
“Yeah, I forgot you own part o’ the Crown Royal.”
“But my real job is here in Buckskin.” Frank shook his head. “I’m just not sure I ought to be wearing this badge anymore.”
“You got to stop talkin’ like that,” Tip protested as he and Frank walked toward the Silver Baron. “Nobody wants you to turn in your badge. Hell, if you hadn’t rallied everybody together when them outlaws come chargin’ in, they’d have looted the town and likely burned it to the ground. You said that’s what Pool usually did.”
“Yes, but I didn’t stop Munro and Hammersmith from causing a lot of trouble before that happened. We had a full-scale riot going on, if you remember.”
“I remember all right, and I remember you riskin’ your neck and doin’ everything in your power to head things off before they got that far. It ain’t your fault you couldn’t.”
Frank shrugged. The mayor might be willing to let him off the hook, but he wasn’t sure if
