Having orders barked at him like that was more than Frank was going to stand. He moved a step closer to Munro and said in a low, dangerous voice, “Listen here, mister. I don’t give a damn who you are or what you own or how much money you have. You talk to me with some respect, or we won’t have just gotten off on the wrong foot. We’ll stay that way.”
Munro met Frank’s gaze without flinching, but didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he gave an abrupt nod. “All right, then, we understand each other. As the legal owner of this building, I request that you remove the people who have no right to be living in it.”
Frank thought it over and then said, “I reckon you have the right to make that request. This is going to be done in an orderly fashion, though. I’m not going to drive people out at gunpoint.”
“Handle the matter however you see fit, Marshal, just as long as that official, legal request that I made is carried out with a reasonable amount of promptness.”
Munro had adopted a formal attitude, but Frank could still see the anger seething inside him. He was accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, and it made him furious when anyone defied him. Munro had enough money to get away with acting like that—most of the time.
But not here. Not with Frank Morgan.
“Most of the men who have been staying here won’t be in their rooms right now. They’re out prospecting, or working at one of the mines. I’ll get my deputy and we’ll go through the place. All the gear in the rooms can be moved over to the marshal’s office for now, and its owners can claim it later. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or so. That suit you?”
“Where do you suggest my wife and I wait in the meantime?” Munro asked. “We’ve had a long ride, and she’s tired.”
So the blonde was Munro’s wife. Frank had wondered if she was married to the mining magnate, or if she was his daughter, because she was only half of Munro’s age.
Obviously, the stagecoach wasn’t the only thing he had bought for his personal use.
Frank pointed across the street. “There’s a nice little café over there, and I’m sure the ladies who run it would be glad to serve you some coffee and maybe something to eat, if you’re hungry.”
The blonde said, “It has been a long time since we stopped to eat, Hamish.”
Munro jerked his head in a nod. “Very well. Would you mind letting us know when you have the hotel ready for us to occupy, Marshal?”
“Not at all,” Frank said.
He thought he might send Jack to deliver that message when the time came. He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with Hamish Munro again so soon.
As Munro and his wife walked toward the café, another man got out of the stagecoach. He wore a suit similar to Munro’s, although not as expensive, and a brown hat. About thirty, he was handsome in a pale, bland sort of way. He offered a soft hand to Frank and said, “I’m Nathan Evers, Marshal. Mr. Munro’s confidential secretary. I heard the two of you discussing this hotel, and if you’d like, I can show you the legal documents proving that Mr. Munro purchased it from the previous owner.”
Frank shook his head. “I don’t reckon that’s necessary. You wouldn’t offer to show me the papers unless you really had ’em.” A thought occurred to him. “I wonder just how much real estate Munro’s managed to buy here in Buckskin by tracking down the folks who used to own it.”
Evers smiled and said, “As I mentioned, Marshal, I’m a confidential secretary. I’m afraid I can’t discuss such business matters with anyone except Mr. Munro.”
“What about his wife?” Frank asked.
“Mrs. Munro doesn’t concern herself with her husband’s financial affairs.”
No, Frank thought, as long as Munro had plenty of money, the blonde wouldn’t care about anything else.
Evers turned to the driver and the guard and said, “Why don’t you unload the bags here on the porch, and I’ll let you know when you can bring them on into the hotel.”
The men nodded. The driver had already opened the canvas-covered boot at the rear of the coach, so they began taking carpetbags and trunks from it and stacking them on the hotel porch.
Frank crossed over to the marshal’s office, where the crowd had broken up and folks had gone on about their business once Hampton’s corpse had been carted off. Jack had come up while Frank was over at the hotel, and as he leaned on the boardwalk railing, the old-timer asked, “What’s goin’ on over there at the old hotel? I never seen a stagecoach painted that color before.”
“And you probably never will again,” Frank said. He explained about Hamish Munro’s arrival in Buckskin, and added that the mining magnate wanted the squatters cleared out of the hotel. “Come along and give me a hand with that.”
“Sure. I heard you had to kill another fella who showed up to try and make a name for himself as a fast gun.”
“Who told you that?”
“Hombre name of Farnum, down to the Silver Baron.”
Frank nodded. “Keep an eye on him if you happen to run into him again.”
“Farnum, you mean? He seems to be a likable, harmless little fella.”
“That’s what he wants you to think. He’s slick on the draw, and he’s never been overly particular about who he works for or who he rides with. He’s spent more time on the wrong side of the law than on the right side.”
Jack let out a whistle of surprise. “You don’t say! I damn sure will keep an eye on him then.”
They walked over to the hotel and went inside. Nathan Evers came with them, and Frank didn’t object. He figured that Evers probably had a right to be here. He also had no doubt that Evers would tell Munro everything that Frank and Jack said and did.
Let the fella spy to his heart’s content, Frank told himself. He and his deputy didn’t have anything to hide.
Only three of the men who had moved into the hotel were there at the moment. All of them lodged bitter protests when Frank told them they would have to move out.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t have any choice in the matter. The building’s legal owner showed up, and he wants everybody out.”
“We didn’t know who owned the place and didn’t figure anybody would care if we stayed here for a spell,” one of the men said.
“Nobody cared until now.”
“We ain’t gonna get in trouble for trespassin’ or anything like that, are we?”
“Not as long as you gather up your gear and move out right away,” Frank said.
A lot of angry muttering went on in the process, but the men did as they were told. Meanwhile, Frank and Jack went through the other rooms and carried out clothes, war bags, and other belongings.
“Take all this stuff over to the office,” Frank told Jack. “The men who own it can come by there later and get it.”
“Seems like we’re goin’ to a heap o’ trouble for this Munro hombre,” Jack groused.
“He’s within his legal rights.”
“There are legal rights…and then there’s what’s right,” Jack said.
Frank felt pretty much the same way, but when he had pinned on the marshal’s badge, he had agreed to abide by the law, whether he always liked it or not.
In less than an hour, the hotel had been cleaned out of squatters. Most of the building’s original furnishings were still intact. It wouldn’t take a lot of time and effort to clean the place up, and Frank was sure that Munro had the money to pay someone for that time and effort. If Munro was willing to invest even more, he could turn the hotel into a showplace again. That wouldn’t surprise Frank either.
When they were finished, Evers volunteered to go to the café and let his employer know that the hotel was ready for their occupancy. Frank was more than willing to let Evers handle that chore. He nodded his thanks and said, “Come on, Jack. Let’s get back to the office.”