Munro nodded. “Good. We can move on to other things. That terrible accident at the Crown Royal has given us a definite advantage for a while. Our only real competition now is Woodford’s Lucky Lizard Mine.”
“Something might happen there too,” Hammersmith said, knowing that Munro would take his meaning correctly.
“Not an explosion, though. That would be an incredible coincidence. Some people might not believe that it was a coincidence.”
“What do you reckon might cause the most problems for them?”
Munro smiled. “It would be very unfortunate for Woodford if he was hit with the bane of all mining men: labor troubles. A miners’ strike would shut down the Lucky Lizard for no telling how long.”
Hammersmith rubbed his heavy jaw in thought. “I don’t think Woodford has to worry too much about that,” he said after a few seconds. “From what I hear, he treats the fellas who work for him pretty good.”
“Well, you never know. All it takes is one or two hotheads to stir things up. Miners are like sheep, Hammersmith. They’re easily led, and once they get some idea in their head, it’s almost impossible to get it out.”
“Yeah, maybe. Let me think about it, Boss.”
“Don’t think too long,” Munro snapped. “Every mine I’ve ever been involved with has been the largest and most successful in its area. Things aren’t going to be any different here.”
“We’re well on our way. I got a feeling the Lucky Lizard’s in for a run of bad luck, one way or another.” Hammersmith paused, then added, “Did you want to talk about the assay reports?”
“I looked them over,” Munro said. “The preliminary tests indicate that with the new methods, the ore will assay out at a satisfactory amount of silver per ton. I think you should go ahead and increase production as much as possible right away.”
Hammersmith nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I’ve no doubt of that.”
It should have made Hammersmith feel better for Munro to express his confidence that way, but for some reason, it didn’t. For one thing, only half an hour earlier, Hammersmith had been kissing Munro’s wife and running his eager hands over her body. For another, Hammersmith couldn’t forget that Munro had things set up so that if anybody ever got in trouble with the law over the things they had been doing, it would be him, Gunther Hammersmith. Munro wasn’t that worried about Morgan because the marshal couldn’t prove anything against him. It might be a different story where Hammersmith was concerned.
Despite what Munro had said earlier, maybe it was time to start thinking about how some “accident” might befall Frank Morgan….
When they got back to the office, they found Jessica rested and ready for the ride back to Buckskin. She took Hammersmith’s hand in hers and squeezed it as she said, “Thank you again, Mr. Hammersmith. You were an excellent host.”
“Always glad to oblige, ma’am,” he told her. “Come back and visit the Alhambra any time you want.”
“I think one visit will be enough for Jessica,” Munro said. “Come along, my dear.”
He helped her into the coach and followed her inside. The driver and the guard climbed onto the box, and a moment later the stagecoach was rolling over the dusty trail back to the settlement, a couple of miles away. Hammersmith watched it go, thinking about what Munro had said. He’d been forced to hide his disappointment when Munro decreed that Jessica wouldn’t be coming out to the mine anymore. He figured that she would be able to change his mind about that if she wanted to. He hoped she wanted to.
If not, he would just have to find a way to see her in town. Hammersmith’s mind was full at the moment, thoughts about various subjects whirling around inside his head. He had to worry about Frank Morgan and come up with a way to foment a miners’ strike at the Lucky Lizard.
But uppermost in his thoughts were Jessica Munro and his need to see her again. To hold her in his arms once more and feast on those sweet lips of hers. To experience all the wonders that her sleek, supple body promised.
All the other problems sort of paled beside that, and he was very glad that she had accompanied her husband today.
“You look tired, my dear,” Hamish Munro said as they rocked along in the coach.
“I am,” Jessica said. “This visit to the mine was interesting, but I’m exhausted now.”
“Really?” Munro frowned. “I was hoping that when we got back to the hotel….”
“I’m sorry, Hamish. I’m afraid all I want to do when I get back is soak in a hot tub to get this rock dust off of me, then have a nice long nap.”
The look of disappointment on his face was priceless, she thought. He was so easily manipulated. She could dictate his moods according to her whims, jerking him around like a puppet on a string. To the world, he was Hamish Munro, as rich and powerful as a king. But to Jessica he was just another man, powerless in the face of his need for her. He actually thought that she loved him, and as long as he believed that, he would do anything she wanted him to.
She had looked over the assay reports in the office while her husband was off talking to Gunther Hammersmith. They were probably plotting something together, as men liked to do. Jessica didn’t care. Let them play their games. She had found out what she wanted to know. She knew how the ore assayed out, and her brain could calculate the income per ton even faster than Munro’s could. It was easy to speculate on how much the mine would be worth in the long run.
It had been a productive day in other ways too. Hammersmith had bitten hard on the hook, and now she had him on the line if she needed him. Pulling him in would be no challenge at all. When the time came, with Hammersmith’s help, she could make herself a very rich woman indeed. All she had to do was wait for the right moment….
Jessica became aware that Munro was looking at her from the stagecoach’s other seat. There was no suspicion in his eyes, only longing.
She smiled at him. She could throw him that bone anyway.
It was all he was going to get.
Chapter 22
Since keeping the corpses of the dead men on display in front of the undertaking parlor didn’t seem to be doing any good, Frank told Claude Langley to go ahead and bury them. Frank and Dog had gone over the scene of the gun battle with the men and hadn’t found anything to indicate who they had been working for. Riding in the stream the way they had prevented Dog from backtracking them. The man who had slit the throat of the surviving outlaw must have also ridden in the stream, because Frank couldn’t find his track either.
Frank’s frustration grew over the next few days as it seemed that his visit with Munro wasn’t paying any dividends either. That attempt on his life he had halfway expected didn’t happen. In fact, things in Buckskin were pretty peaceful again. The rush of newcomers into town finally seemed to be slowing down. The settlement was still crowded, and there were drunken brawls in the saloons, fights over poker games and women, and the occasional robbery. But nothing happened that Frank couldn’t take care of easily with help from Catamount Jack and Clint Farnum.
The new deputy seemed to be settling right in. He had made some friends, including Becky Humphries, who seemed to have given up her interest in Garrett Claiborne now that Diana was spending so much time with the mining engineer. Frank went by Dr. Garland’s place every day, and knew that Claiborne was getting more and more restless. He was anxious to get back out to the Crown Royal and go to work, even though the new equipment for the stamp mill hadn’t arrived yet. There was still rebuilding work to do, and Claiborne wanted to supervise it. The doctor’s orders were firm, though. Claiborne still had some more recuperating to do.
Frank was coming out of Leo Benjamin’s store one morning, carrying a box of .45 cartridges he had just picked up, when he saw Tip Woodford hurrying toward him. The mayor’s urgent manner, plus the worried look on his face, told Frank that Buckskin’s peaceful respite was probably over.