“We want to make you feel welcome in Buckskin, Mr. Claiborne.” She turned to Frank. “Let me take your hat, Marshal.”
Frank handed her his high-crowned Stetson. She took Claiborne’s bowler hat too, but seemingly as an afterthought.
Tip came down the stairs and joined them in the foyer. He wore a dusty brown tweed suit. His shirt had a stiff collar and there was a tie around his neck. He dug a finger under his collar and tugged on it as he grunted and said, “Howdy.”
Diana gave his hand a light slap and scolded, “Father, I told you to stop messing with your collar. It’s not going to kill you to dress like a civilized person for a change.”
“It might,” Tip said. “This here collar’s liable to choke me to death.”
“Look at how nicely Mr. Claiborne’s dressed, and he doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Reckon he’s more used to it than I am. Come on in the parlor, boys, and we’ll have a snort before dinner.”
Diana rolled her eyes but didn’t object. She said, “I’ll go check on the food.”
Tip led Frank and Claiborne into a comfortably furnished parlor and poured drinks for all three of them from a crystal decanter. As they sipped the smooth whiskey, Claiborne said, “You have a lovely home here, Mr. Woodford, and your daughter is quite lovely too.”
“Yeah, well, most o’ the time she’s pretty down to earth, but she likes to put on airs ever’ now and then. I reckon the way she was brought up had somethin’ to do with that. No offense to Diana’s ma, God rest her poor soul, but my wife could be a mite prissy when she wanted to. Diana’s been a lot happier here in Buckskin than I thought she’d be when she came out here to live with me.”
“It must have been difficult for her, losing her mother like that. I find her strength quite admirable.”
Frank said, “So do I. She’s a fine young woman.”
“We can stand here gabbin’ about Diana all night,” Tip said, “or we can talk about the mines. How’d the Crown Royal look to you, Claiborne?”
“Well…” Claiborne hesitated, and Frank figured he was naturally wary about discussing the operation with a rival mine owner.
Tip waved a blunt-fingered hand. “Oh, hell, don’t worry, I ain’t plannin’ on tryin’ to jump your claim. It’ll be fine with me if the Crown Royal’s a success again, because that’ll be good for the town.”
“In that case,” Claiborne said, “I don’t mind telling you that I think opening the mine again won’t pose too much of a problem. There’ll be plenty of hard work that needs to be done, of course, but if I can hire some good men, we can meet the challenge.”
“I know of one man you can hire. Name of Rogan.”
Frank caught Claiborne’s eye and shook his head. “Wouldn’t be a good idea,” he said. “The hombre’s a troublemaker.”
“Oh, hell, I was just joshin’,” Tip said. “I wouldn’t have let the young fella hire Rogan. But I sure as shootin’ fired him. Went by the jail and talked to him just a little while ago, told him he was through at the Lucky Lizard.”
“How’d he take it?” Frank asked.
“Not good. Grabbed the bars and rattled ’em while he was cussin’ at me. He didn’t settle down until ol’ Catamount Jack stuck a Greener in his face and warned him he wouldn’t get no supper unless he stopped carryin’ on so.”
“He does sound like a troublemaker,” Claiborne said. “I hope all the men in Buckskin aren’t like that.”
“Not hardly,” Frank assured him. “I’ll give you a hand finding some fellas who want to work.”
Before they could discuss any more business, Diana appeared in the doorway of the parlor and announced, “Dinner is ready.”
It was good too. Fried chicken, greens and potatoes out of the garden patch behind the house, and biscuits and gravy. Frank praised the food, which made Diana blush with pleasure, but the words were more for Claiborne’s benefit. He wanted to make sure the mining engineer understood just what a fine catch Diana would be.
Claiborne was shy, and even though he could be glib enough when he did speak, he kept his mouth shut most of the time, no matter how much Frank tried to get him and Diana to talking. Still, she seemed to like Claiborne well enough, so Frank was a little encouraged.
When it came time for them to go, though, after the men retreated to the parlor for some brandy and cigars, Diana was waiting on the porch to bid them good night. She lingered the longest on her farewell to Frank, putting her hand on his arm and saying, “Please come back anytime, Marshal.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a gruff voice. He put a hand on Claiborne’s shoulder and practically shoved him forward.
“It was a wonderful evening, Miss Woodford,” he said. “The food was delicious and, well, no man could complain about the company.”
“How sweet of you. Good evening, Mr. Claiborne.”
As they walked away, once they were out of earshot, Claiborne said, “Miss Woodford really is a fine young woman. You’re a fortunate man, Marshal.”
“Me? Why me?”
“Obviously, she’s fond of you. I believe she’s set her cap for you.”
“I’m old enough to be her father, blast it!” Frank turned and poked a finger against Claiborne’s shoulder. “She needs somebody younger, like you.”
“Me? Why, I would never dream of interfering with someone else’s romance.”
“There’s no romance to interfere with,” Frank insisted.
“Perhaps not in your mind, but in the young lady’s, who knows?” Claiborne laughed. “And when it comes to matters of the heart, Marshal, we both know that as men, we don’t really have all that much say in the matter, now do we?”
That was true, unfortunately, Frank thought with a frown.
But he had planted a seed anyway, he hoped, and maybe someday it would grow into something.
Chapter 11
Frank let Dave Rogan out of the jail cell early the next morning. The miner, whose heavy-jawed, beard-stubbled face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl, said, “You’re gonna be sorry for lockin’ me up, Marshal. And that bastard Kelley’s gonna wish I’d never set foot in his place.”
“I’d say there’s a good chance Kelley already feels that way,” Frank said. He took a step closer to Rogan and his voice turned cold and hard as he went on. “Listen to me, mister. If you start any more trouble in Buckskin, you’re liable to get a lot worse than you got this time. I won’t stand for it, you hear me?”
Rogan met Frank’s level gaze with a defiant stare, but after a moment he glanced away and muttered, “Yeah, yeah, I hear you.”
“Then you’d better remember what I said.”
Rogan turned and stomped toward the door. Frank stopped him by saying, “Rogan! Since you don’t have a job anymore, maybe it’d be a good thing for you to move on and find something somewhere else.”
Looking back over his shoulder, Rogan asked, “Are you runnin’ me out of town?”
“I’m just saying that it might be wise to move on.”
“I like it here.” Rogan jerked the door open and stomped out.
With a sigh, Frank watched him go. He had a feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of Rogan—nor the last of any trouble caused by the man.
As the days passed, though, Rogan didn’t show his face in Buckskin, and for the most part, things in the settlement were quiet and peaceful. With the help of Frank and Tip Woodford, Claiborne found half-a-dozen men who were tired of prospecting and not finding any silver and willing to go to work for the Crown Royal. When Frank rode out to the mine to check on how they were doing, he found the air full of the ring of picks and shovels, the rasp of saws, and the biting chunks! of axes, as the men worked to clean out, shore up, and extend the shaft. They were hard workers, Claiborne reported, and the job of reopening the mine was progressing on schedule, or maybe even a little ahead of schedule.