Hell Town. William W. Johnstone

ain’t right. It ain’t legal.”

      “If you want to file a formal complaint, you can ride into Buckskin and do so.”

      Hammersmith glared but didn’t say anything else. Claiborne gathered up the guns and, staggering a little under the weight of all the hardware, carried them back to the buggy. Frank backed out of the office, keeping his Colt trained on the open door. He whistled for Goldy, and he was thankful when the horse came trotting up to him. Obviously, one of his prior owners had trained the horse.

      With practiced ease, Frank swung up into the saddle using only his left hand to grip the horn. His right was still filled with the butt of the Peacemaker. He waited until Claiborne had climbed into the buggy, turned it around, and sent it rolling along the trail at a quick pace before he turned Goldy around and rode away as well. Dog loped alongside, tongue lolling from his mouth, obviously pleased with himself.

      Frank glanced over his shoulder several times, just in case Hammersmith and the others had more guns hidden somewhere in the mill, but by the time he and Claiborne were out of sight of the mine, they hadn’t emerged from the building.

      He called a halt half a mile down the trail, and Claiborne dumped the guns out of the buggy as Frank had promised. As they set off toward Buckskin again, Frank said, “I got the feeling you and that fella Gunther don’t like each other very much.”

      “Gunther Hammersmith is a brute,” Claiborne said with more genuine anger in his voice than Frank had heard from him so far. “He’s the sort of man who thinks he has to enforce his will on the men working for him by means of fear and violence. He’s beaten a couple of men to death when they stood up to him. The last time was at a mine in Colorado. He was fired as superintendent, and I was brought in to take his place. He’s hated me ever since. I think he believes that I was responsible for him being discharged from the job.”

      “If he beat a man to death, why wasn’t he put in jail instead of being fired?”

      Claiborne shrugged. “The man who owned the mine had a considerable amount of influence. And some of the other miners swore that the man Hammersmith killed attacked him first. Hammersmith claimed he was just defending himself. Everyone was too afraid of him to contradict his story.”

      “Sounds like the sort of gent this Hamish Munro would hire, if he’s as ruthless as you say he is,” Frank commented.

      “Yes, Munro and Hammersmith certainly make a good match. Hammersmith has worked for Munro before, and I’m not surprised to see that he’s the one Munro picked up to supervise the Alhambra’s operation. This is going to complicate the situation, especially for you, Marshal.”

      “You’re saying that I’m going to have trouble with him when he comes into Buckskin?”

      “After today, with the grudge that he’s bound to hold against you…I’d say you can count on it.”