"Fine. Get over to the jail and relieve Jerry. Tell him I need him out here, now. Move!"
Jerry joined him in the street and Frank said, "Let's get a tally of the dead and wounded. You start that while I find Jenkins and see how hard the bank was hit."
"Will do, Frank."
Men were shooting badly injured horses, putting them out of their misery.
"They didn't get away with a nickel," Jenkins told Frank. "We recovered every dollar. How many dead do we have?"
"I don't know yet. Jerry's checking on that now. But it's going to be high."
"Mrs. Browning?"
"Doc Bracken said she was still alive, but unconscious. She's hard hit."
"Was it the Pine and Vanbergen gangs that hit us, Frank?"
"Yes. Selected members. The rest of the gang was scheduled to pull something else."
"For God's sake, what? And where?"
"The one doing all the talking didn't know. Or said he didn't"
"You believe him?"
"He's pretty damned scared, Mayor. There's a chance he's telling the truth."
A citizen ran up to the men, nearly out of breath. "We've got over twenty dead so far. Mayor, Marshal," he gasped. "About that many wounded."
"Dear God!" Mayor Jenkins breathed. "How many of the wounded are critical?"
"Near'bouts all of them."
"All right, mister. Thanks," Frank told him. "Go sit down over yonder and catch your breath."
"No time," the citizen said. "One of the dynamite charges was tossed into Miss Rosie's place up on the hill. Some of her girls is still buried under the rubble. Maybe eight or ten of them. And Miss Rosie's missin', too."
"My wife's been griping and raising hell about that whorehouse for months," Jenkins said. "She wanted it gone, but not this way."
Frank swung into the saddle of the first horse he came to and rode up to Rosie's House of Delights, or what was left of the place, picking his way around the blocked road. There were dead and badly injured soiled doves on both sides and in front of the ruined old two-story home. There were plenty of men helping to search for and dig out those trapped, so Frank rode on.
No one had thought to look for dead or wounded at the small mining claims that dotted the area around the town, and Frank had a hunch that had also been part of the gang's plan. Many of the men working the smaller mines had found pockets of gold, and did not trust the bank to hold it for them. They kept it in hidden places around their shacks. Ned Pine and Vic Vanbergen would have had spies working the town, buying drinks for thirsty miners, and would know some of the claims that were producing.
Frank's worst hunch paid off. The roar of the Gatling guns, the booming of the dynamite, and the screaming of the wounded had managed to cover the sound of the attack on a number of the small mines ... and the attacks had been especially vicious. There were dead men and women nearly everywhere Frank looked.
Frank found one dazed but unhurt young man. "You have a horse, boy?"
"Yes, sir."
"Get on it and ride into town. Tell my deputy what's happened up here." Frank stared at the confused-looking teenager. "Do you understand what I just told you?"
The young man blinked a couple of times. "Ah ... yes, sir."
"Move, boy!"
Frank did what he could for the wounded and waited for help from the town to arrive.
Soon Jerry rode up with about a dozen men, and for a moment they sat their horses and stared in disbelief at the carnage.
"A couple of you check out those mines up ahead for dead and wounded," Frank said. "Rest of you get down and help me identify these bodies."
"The telegraph is out, too, Frank," Jerry told him. "I guess the gangs pulled down the wires just as they were hitting the town."
"It was sure a well-thought-out plan, Jer, no doubt about that."
"They didn't care who they killed. I've never seen anything so vicious."
"The death count still rising?"
"Yes. By the minute, it seems like. A lot of women and kids were killed." Jerry shook his head. "Most of the stores on Main Street were damaged. Several of them will be closed for a long time while repairs are made."
"Some of them probably won't ever reopen. God!" Frank exclaimed. "Look at the bodies."
"We're going to have to match up the names of some of these people with records from the assayer's office."
Frank nodded his head. "We'll be lucky to match up half of them. Jerry, did you see Kid Moran do anything to aid the outlaws?"
"No. Not a thing. And he's gone. So is Big Bob Mallory."
"Figures. How about Charles Dutton?"
"I guess he's still in town. I haven't seen him."
"Any chance of getting Doc Bracken up here?"
"Not a chance, Frank. He's operating fast as he can, and the wounded keep piling up. He's moved his operatin' to the church buildin' on Willow Street."
"All right. See if you can get a couple of wagons. We'll move the wounded into town."
"How about the bodies?"
Frank sighed. "I guess we'll leave them where they fell for the time being. Let's see to the living first."
"Frank, I haven't seen Conrad Browning."
"Vivian told me she gave him a sedative this morning. He slept through the attack. I'd better go check on him and get him up and moving. He might not get another chance to see his mother alive."
"Don't give up on her, Frank. She's a strong woman with a powerful will to live."
"She took three rounds in the chest, Jer. Looks like one went through a lung and another punched through a kidney."
"But she's still alive."
"Yeah. Take over here, Jer. I'll be in town."
Frank rode into town and checked on Vivian. She was still clinging to life. He went to the Browning estate and got Conrad up and moving. He made coffee while Conrad washed his face and dressed. Then he told him what had happened.
The young man went white in the face with shock. "Mother?"
"She's still alive."
"Take me to her, Marshal."
"Of course."
Frank took Conrad to the doctor's office, where a local woman who was Bracken's nurse was sitting with Vivian. A very subdued Conrad took a chair by his mother's bed and reached out, touching her and finally taking her hand into his.
Frank slipped outside, leaving the mother and son together. He stood alone for a few moments, then carefully rolled a cigarette and smoked it, but he got no pleasure from it. The tobacco was bitter tasting on his tongue, all mixed up with the lonely feelings of sorrow and regret, for himself, for Conrad, and especially for Vivian. _And_, he thought with a sigh, forcing himself to admit it, _for all the things that might have been and now can never be. Never, ever be._
Jerry rode up and dismounted, walking over to Frank. "How is she, Frank?"
"Doc Bracken says there is no hope, Jer. Conrad is in there with her now."
"How is he holdin' up?"
"Being a very strong and brave young man. But I don't think that's going to last for any length of time."
"They were real close, weren't they?"
"Yes."
"Frank, I hate to bring this up now, but I've got to. We've got forty-two people dead and seventy wounded, some of them real serious. We can't get word out, the telegraph is down, and the road is blocked by the outlaws about three miles out of town."