to say. “Indeed.”
Frank put a hand on Claiborne’s shoulder to steer him toward the door of the office. “Tell Tip we came by,” he said to Diana.
“I certainly will,” she replied, giving him a cool, challenging look. Then she gave Claiborne another smile and added, “Stop in to see me any time you like, Garrett.”
“Yes, of course,” he said as he tipped his hat to her.
Frank knew good and well what Diana was doing. She was playing up to Claiborne in an attempt to make him jealous. That was just fine with him, because it wasn’t going to work. In fact, he hoped the tactic backfired on her and she really did get interested in Claiborne. That would solve Frank’s problem of figuring out what to do about her. And even though Claiborne was considerably older than Diana, the age difference wasn’t nearly as much as it was between her and Frank.
Yeah, he thought, a romance between the two of them would suit him just fine.
He might even have to play cupid, just to nudge things along.
Chapter 7
After taking Claiborne’s buggy down to Amos Hillman’s livery stable, Frank talked the mining engineer into spending the night at his house, since he planned to sleep on the cot in the marshal’s office anyway.
Early the next morning, with Catamount Jack taking over as deputy, Frank saddled up Goldy and got ready to ride out to the Crown Royal with Claiborne. In the stall across the aisle, Stormy tossed his head angrily when he saw Frank leading out the other horse.
“Don’t worry, fella,” Frank said to the Appaloosa. “You’re not being replaced. I just want to see how Goldy here acts on the trail.”
Goldy’s injuries were mostly healed, and the gelding acted eager to stretch his legs. Dog came along too, trotting alongside the horse as Frank rode over to the café, where he had arranged to meet Garrett Claiborne. As he got there, Claiborne came out of the building, followed by Becky Humphries, who was wiping her hands on her apron. Pretty, redheaded Becky was the youngest of the three women who ran the café, and she was smiling as she said, “Y’all come back to see us any time, Mr. Claiborne.”
He tugged on the brim of his hat. “I’ll do that, Miss Humphries. I must say, those biscuits were some of the best I’ve ever eaten.”
Becky blushed. “Go on with you, you flatterer,” she said with a little laugh.
Looking a little embarrassed, Claiborne said to Frank, “Ready to go, Marshal?”
“Yep. Amos has got your buggy horse harnessed up and waiting for you.”
Claiborne nodded. “I’ll be right back then.” He headed toward the livery stable, his stride brisk.
“Mornin’, Marshal,” Becky said. “I like that new friend of yours.”
“He seems like a decent sort,” Frank agreed. “I didn’t know you were a Southern girl.”
Becky’s accent became more pronounced as she said, “Why, Ah suspect there’s a whole heap o’ things you don’t know about li’l ol’ me, Marshal.”
“Uh-huh,” Frank said with a dry grin. Becky was used to playing up to men; it was sort of an occupational habit with her. She had probably gotten Claiborne to admit that he was from Georgia, and that was all it took for Becky to transform herself into a Southern belle.
The thing of it was, Frank didn’t know if he wanted Becky flirting with Claiborne or not. He had hoped to distract Diana Woodford with the mining man, and if Claiborne got mixed up with Becky, then Frank would be right back where he started with Diana.
He supposed he could let it drop to Claiborne that Becky used to be a whore…but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Frank discarded it and scolded himself for even thinking such a thing. He liked Becky—and her partners Lauren and Ginnie too, for that matter—and didn’t want to embarrass them.
A man his age shouldn’t still have to be worrying about romance and suchlike, he told himself. He ought to be past all that. Dealing with gunmen and outlaws and killers was a mite easier, most of the time.
Claiborne rattled up in the buggy. Becky waved good-bye as Frank and Claiborne headed out of town.
As they left the settlement behind, Claiborne said, “You, ah, seem to have an abundance of attractive young women in Buckskin, Marshal. Miss Humphries and the other two ladies in the café, and of course Miss Woodford…”
Frank chuckled. “I hate to break it to you, Mr. Claiborne, but with those four, you’ve already met all the eligible females in Buckskin. Trudy Benjamin, who runs the boardinghouse, is married. You met her husband Leo at the general store yesterday.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“They’re the only women in town, for now anyway. I’d be surprised if more don’t show up soon, though. You’ve been around boomtowns before, so you know what I mean.”
“Ah, yes. I certainly do.” Claiborne sounded like he didn’t approve.
A decade earlier, when the Crown Royal was still operating, a decent road had run between the mine and the settlement. Over the years, nature had reclaimed some of the road, until it was now just a narrow trail. Claiborne had trouble negotiating some of it in the buggy.
“We’re going to have to improve this route,” he said between bumps and jolts. “We’ll be bringing wagonloads of ore over this trail.”
“Assuming there are wagonloads of ore still to be found,” Frank pointed out.
“Yes, of course. But I have a feeling there will be.”
Frank hoped Claiborne was right, not so much for his own sake, but for Conrad’s and also for the town’s. With several successful mines operating in the vicinity, Buckskin might grow into a fine city.
“This is beautiful country,” Claiborne said a short time later as they rounded a bend in the trail and the landscape sprawled out in front of them in an impressive panorama of wooded hills, lush valleys, and stark, snowcapped mountains looming over all of it. “Quite rugged and uncivilized, of course, but still beautiful.”
“It’s not as uncivilized as you might think,” Frank said. “If it was, we’d have to be worrying about Paiutes lifting our hair right now. Wasn’t all that many years ago such things were still going on. Now, though, all the Indians have been pacified. The grizzly bears and the cougars have retreated up higher in the mountains, and even the diamondback rattlers aren’t as common as they used to be.” Frank shook his head. “No, the only real danger you’re liable to run into now comes from outlaws.”
“There are still outlaws in this area?”
“There are outlaws anywhere you go, if there are people there,” Frank said. “It’s human nature for some folks to be downright ornery and crooked.”
“I suppose.” Claiborne let go of the reins with one hand and pointed. “There! Is that the mine?”
“I believe it is,” Frank said.
They arrived at the Crown Royal a few minutes later. Frank was surprised to see that several buildings were still standing, including a large one where the narrow-gauge railroad tracks that emerged from the hole in the side of the hill terminated. That was the stamp mill, where the ore brought out of the mine in carts was pulverized so the silver could be separated out from the worthless rock. The mine superintendent had probably had his office in there too. Nearby was a long, low building that must have served as the barracks for the miners. There was also a cookshack, a mess hall, and several storage sheds. Frank guessed that was what those buildings had been used for, anyway.
Claiborne brought the buggy to a halt, looked around, and said, “Well, this is quite impressive. Everything appears to be in better shape than I thought it would be. I’ll have to take a closer look to