The Last Gunfighter: Killing Ground Page 16

  Woodford sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know, Mr. Turnbuckle. It’s startin’ to seem to me like I’m jinxed. Maybe Brighton’s been right all along and I’m in the wrong. Jeremiah Fulton could’ve lied to me about not havin’ a partner. Maybe Brighton’s claim is the real thing.”

  “No!” Luther startled himself by the vehemence of his response. “You can’t give up. We can beat Brighton. I know we can.”

  Actually, Luther wasn’t as convinced of that as he was trying to sound. His strategy depended largely on the information he was expecting in response to the wires he had sent. If he didn’t get that information in time, or if it turned out to be different than what he expected, then it was going to be Woodford’s word against Brighton’s, for the most part…and in a case like that, there was no way of knowing for sure how a judge would rule.

  Before they could discuss the matter any further, the door opened. Luther turned around to see Colonel Desmond O’Hara coming into the office. The Chicago lawyer took his hat off and nodded politely to Diana.

  “Miss Woodford,” he said. “Delightful to see you again. And you, too, Mr. Woodford.”

  Luther noticed that O’Hara didn’t have a polite greeting for him. He said, “What do you want, Colonel?”

  “I’ve just heard the tragic news concerning Judge Grampis. It seems to me that these changed circumstances warrant further discussion.”

  “The circumstances haven’t changed,” Luther snapped. “Another judge will be sent out, and the case will proceed as planned.”

  “Eventually, yes,” O’Hara said. “But this continued controversy does no one any good, Counselor. The matter needs to be settled, once and for all, so that it’s not hanging over everyone’s head. Therefore, my client has decided to extend an olive branch to your client and offer him a percentage of the mine in exchange for acknowledgment of the validity of the partnership agreement between Jeremiah Fulton and Chester Brighton.”

  “He did that before, right at first,” Woodford said. “What’s he offerin’ now?”

  “Five per cent of the mine’s profits,” O’Hara said.

  Woodford’s face purpled. “Five per cent o’ my own mine?” He came to his feet, not looking defeated any longer. “By the Lord Harry—”

  O’Hara held up a hand, palm out. “Please, sir. Control yourself.”

  “This is my office! I’ll control myself if I damned well please!”

  “I told him.” O’Hara shook his head. “I told Mr. Brighton that such an offer was insulting, but he insisted that I make it. However…at my urging, he agreed that if you refused the initial offer, I had the authority to double it.”

  Luther said, “That’s still only ten per cent.”

  “Ten per cent of the profits that your client has no legal right to whatever, Counselor,” O’Hara said. “It seems like a fair offer to me.”

  Woodford shook his head. “Not to me. The Lucky Lizard is mine.”

  “But if the judge who eventually hears the case doesn’t agree with you, sir, you’ll be left with nothing. Not only that, but the judge might even rule that Mr. Brighton is entitled to all the profits that have been realized from the mine up to this point.”

  Luther went cold inside. Up until now, they had been wrangling over who would own the silver that came from the Lucky Lizard in the future. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Dex Brighton might also have his sights set on the fortune that Tip Woodford had already made from the mine.

  Judging from the stunned look on Woodford’s face, that possibility hadn’t occurred to him either. “A lot of that money went right back into the mine to expand it,” he said. “It’s not like I’ve got the cash in the bank.”

  “Well…that wouldn’t be Mr. Brighton’s problem, now would it?” O’Hara asked with a bland smile.

  Woodford scrubbed a hand over his face and looked worried again. I should have seen this coming, Luther thought. The real Claudius Turnbuckle would have. Not only that, but the real Turnbuckle would have already thought of a way to combat Brighton’s latest maneuver.

  Woodford looked at his daughter. “What do you think, Diana?”

  She appeared to be worried, too, but she said, “I don’t think you should make any decisions, Pa, without talking to Frank first. And you need to talk it over with Mr. Turnbuckle here, too.”

  In the absence of a real strategy, boldness sometimes had to suffice, Luther told himself. He swung around toward O’Hara so sharply that a twinge of pain went through his wounded arm as it shifted in the sling.

  “My advice to my client, Colonel, is to flatly reject Brighton’s flimsy offer. There will no settlement because no settlement is called for. My client is completely in the right and his claim will soon be vindicated in court. The best course of action for your client would be abandon this charade and leave Buckskin as soon as possible.”

  O’Hara’s jaw tightened and his eyes flashed with anger. He didn’t respond directly to Luther, though, turning to Woodford instead.

  “Your attorney’s fiery speech is very impressive, sir, but the decision rests with you, not him. You’ve heard what he has to say; now, what do you say? Will you accept my client’s generous offer, or not?”

  Woodford took a deep breath, and for a second Luther thought he was going to surrender rather than risk being completely ruined. But then he shook his head and said, “Tell Brighton the Lucky Lizard is mine. Always has been, ever since I bought it from Jeremiah Fulton, and always will be unless I decide to sell it to somebody myself, which ain’t likely to happen.”

  “That’s your last word on the matter?” O’Hara prodded.

  “Yes, sir, it is. If it’s a fight Brighton wants, then it’s a fight he’ll get, right to the bitter end.”

  O’Hara sighed. “Very well. I’ll convey your decision to Mr. Brighton. I must say, though, that I believe you’re making a grave error.”

  “It’s my mistake to make,” Woodford snapped. “So long, Colonel. I don’t reckon there’s any need for you to pay us another visit. The answer’s still gonna be the same.”

  Luther’s spirits soared as he saw that Woodford’s combative nature had finally come to the forefront again. The man had almost gotten discouraged enough to quit…but not quite.

  “In other words, Colonel,” Luther told O’Hara with a cool smile, “we’ll see you in court.”

  Chapter 20

  About an hour after the stagecoach arrived in Buckskin carrying the body of Judge Theodore “Grumbler” Grampis, a knock sounded on the back door of the marshal’s office. Frank was inside, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot that was usually simmering on the old stove, when he heard the quiet rapping. He set the coffee aside and put his hand on the butt of his Colt as he moved over to the door.

  “Who is it?” he called through the panel, then took a step to the side in case his visitor tried to blast through the door with a shotgun.

  “Phil Noonan, Marshal,” the answer came back.

  Frank felt relief go through him. Still, he was cautious and kept his hand near his gun as he swung the door open. Somebody could have figured out that Phil was working with him, grabbed him, and brought him here at gunpoint to get Frank to open the door unsuspectingly.

  Frank saw that his wariness wasn’t necessary, at least in this case. Phil was alone. He grinned as he came into the office and reached under his shirt to pull out a packet of papers.

  “Here are all the replies to those telegrams you had me send, Marshal,” he said. “Sorry it took me so long to get back here with ’em. The last one didn’t come until late yesterday afternoon, too late to start back then. As important as you made this whole thing sound, I figured it’d be better to wait until today rather than spendin’ a night on the trail and takin’ a chance on something happenin’ to ’em.”

  Frank took the bundle of messages, which were tied together with string. Judging by the thickness of the bundle, Claudius Turnbuckle had received a reply to every wire he had sent out, and
some of them must have been lengthy.

  “You did the right thing, Phil,” Frank assured the messenger. “I don’t know what-all is in here, but Mr. Turnbuckle is expecting some mighty important information for that court case of his.”

  “Did I get back in time for the trial?” Phil asked. “I worried about that. The judge was supposed to get here today, wasn’t he?”

  Frank’s face took on a grim cast. “You haven’t heard what happened?”

  “I came straight here, so I haven’t heard anything.” Phil started to look worried. “What’s wrong, Marshal?”

  “The stagecoach carrying the judge arrived today, all right…but Judge Grampis was dead. He was killed in a holdup while the stage was on its way down here from Carson City.”

  “Dead!” Phil exclaimed. “Good Lord, Marshal! What’s that mean for Tip Woodford’s court case?”

  “It’s been postponed until another judge can get here.”

  “Got any idea when that’s gonna be?”

  “Not yet…but I’m going to ride to Carson City and bring back the next one myself, just to make sure that nothing happens to him.” That brought up another point, and even though Frank hadn’t discussed it with Tip Woodford or the other members of the town council, he decided to go ahead and broach the subject with Phil. “I know the last time I left town for a while Catamount Jack took care of things by himself, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I could use an extra deputy, Phil. Are you interested in the job?”

  The man’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’d trust me to be a deputy, Mr. Morgan, when I couldn’t make it as a miner?”

  “Some men are good at some things, other men are good at different things. You’ve done a fine job helping me out now and then, like delivering those messages and bringing back the replies. Your health is better now, and I know that you used to be good in a scrap because I remember you getting mixed up in the occasional saloon brawl. Can you handle a gun?”

  “Well…not like you. I ain’t Smoke Jensen or Falcon McAllister, and I reckon they’re probably the only fellas as slick on the draw as you are, Mr. Morgan.” Phil put his hand on the butt of his old Colt. “But I can get this hogleg out without too much trouble, and I generally hit what I aim at if I don’t rush too much.”

  Frank nodded. “That’s good enough for me. I can’t make any promises about wages yet because I haven’t talked to the mayor or the town council, but I reckon there’s a good chance they’ll go along with whatever I suggest.”

  “Hell, if you need an extra deputy, I’d do it without any wages! Buckskin owes you a lot, Marshal. This probably wouldn’t be a fit place to live if it wasn’t for you. It’s not just a boomtown anymore; it’s a real town, with law and order and everything, thanks to you.”

  “I appreciate that sentiment, Phil.” Frank clapped a hand on Noonan’s shoulder. “Consider yourself hired. Come on over here to the desk. I think I’ve got an extra badge.”

  He found the badge in a drawer and handed it to Phil, who pinned it to his vest almost reverently. “Never gave any thought to being a lawman,” he said.

  “I believe you’ll make a good one.”

  “I hope so.” A look of worry suddenly crossed Phil’s face. “But I’ve got a family, Marshal. Maybe I shouldn’t take such a dangerous job.”

  “Swinging a pick or working with blasting powder down in a mine is just as dangerous,” Frank pointed out. “You won’t find anything in this world that’s completely safe.”

  Phil rubbed his jaw. “Well, no, I reckon that’s true.” Abruptly, he thrust out his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deputy, Mr. Morgan.”

  “Since we’re going to be working together, you’d better call me Frank.”

  That brought a grin to Phil’s face. “All right, Frank.”

  Lifting the packet of telegrams, Frank said, “Now, I reckon I’d better get these over to Mr. Turnbuckle. I know he’s been anxious to see what they have to say.”

  Frank found Turnbuckle in the office of the Lucky Lizard Mining Company, as he thought he might. Woodford and Diana were there, too, and all of them seemed upset about something.

  Turnbuckle explained about Colonel O’Hara’s visit and the settlement offer that the colonel had made. “It was rejected out of hand, of course,” Turnbuckle said. “There’s no need for a settlement since we’re going to win in court.”

  “Well, I got to admit that I thought about it for a second,” Tip said. “No offense to you, Mr. Turnbuckle, and don’t think for a second that I’m doubtin’ you. It just seems like everything keeps goin’ wrong, and I thought maybe it was time to start considerin’ a settlement.”

  Frank held out the bundle of telegrams. “Maybe this will make a difference,” he said. “I just got these back from Carson City.”

  Turnbuckle sprang forward eagerly to take them. Since his wounded arm was still in the sling and he had only one good hand at the moment, he fumbled awkwardly with the messages for a second before Diana came to help him.

  “Let me get that,” she said as she took the bundle and began to untie the string around it.

  When she had the string undone she placed the stack of telegrams on the desk and handed the first one to Turnbuckle, who was able to unfold the message form and read what was printed on it. Frank saw his eyes light up as he did so.

  “Let me see the next one,” Turnbuckle said as he set that wire aside and held out his hand.

  For several minutes, with Diana’s assistance, Turnbuckle read the replies, and the grin on his face got bigger and more excited with each one. Finally he said, “Yes! That’s exactly what I needed to know!”

  “Good news, I reckon,” Frank said with a wry chuckle.

  “It certainly is. My theory has been confirmed.”

  “What theory?” Woodford asked.

  Turnbuckle opened his mouth as if he were about to answer, then stopped short. He shook his head. “I don’t have everything worked out yet,” he said, “and there’s more information that I may not find out until the trial, so I’d prefer to keep this to myself for the time being. You understand, I hope.”

  “Well, not really,” Woodford said with a frown. “But you’re the lawyer, I reckon, so I’ll go along with what you say. I figure you know what you’re doing.”

  Frank hoped that Tip was right about that. So far Turnbuckle seemed to be smart enough, and a fighter to boot. But there had been a few moments when Frank had experienced a twinge of doubt about the man. Right from the start, Turnbuckle hadn’t really met his expectations of an attorney with such a sterling reputation.

  In the end, though, results were what mattered. Frank was willing to give Turnbuckle a chance and see what results the lawyer achieved.

  “With any luck you won’t have to wait very long,” Frank said. “I’m leaving for Carson City this afternoon.”

  The three of them turned surprised faces toward him. “Leaving?” Turnbuckle repeated. “Why?”

  “I’m going there to get a new judge and bring him back.”

  “I assumed you’d just send a messenger to the governor—”

  Frank shook his head. “There’s no way of proving it right now, but I’ve got a hunch Brighton might’ve had something to do with that so-called stagecoach robbery.”

  Turnbuckle’s eyebrows rose. “You think he had Judge Grampis assassinated?”

  “We can’t rule it out, can we?”

  Woodford clenched a fist and thumped it on the desk. “That low-down skunk! You’re right, Frank. Ol’ Grumbler gettin’ killed like that was one of the things that almost made me want to give up. I didn’t like the idea of waitin’ for another judge to show up. Could be that Brighton was countin’ on that.”

  Frank nodded and said, “That’s what I thought, too. Brighton’s tried to kill me and the counselor here to put you in a deeper hole, Tip. I’m convinced of that. Delaying the trial does the same thing. He’s been trying to pile so much on you that you collapse under the weight.”

&
nbsp; “That’s not gonna happen,” Woodford declared. “I’ll keep fightin’.”

  “And so will I,” Turnbuckle added. “What you say makes a great deal of sense, Frank. But if you leave town, won’t that just give Brighton the opportunity to send his hired killers after you again?”

  “Maybe. I’ll try to slip out without anybody noticing, though, and I reckon I can trust you folks not to tell anybody that I’m gone.”

  “Of course,” Turnbuckle said.

  Diana pointed out, “People will notice that you’re not around town, Frank.”

  “Maybe not until I’m gone, though. Jack can pretend like I’m still here, and so can Phil Noonan. I just signed him up as an extra deputy.”

  Woodford grunted in approval. “Noonan’s a good man. Not cut out to be a miner, but that don’t mean he won’t be a good deputy.”

  “That’s how I saw it, too.”

  Diana came over to Frank and laid a hand on his arm. “You’ll have to be careful, Frank. We need all the allies we can get if we’re going to keep Brighton from taking over the mine.”

  He smiled at her. “Don’t worry, I know that.” He looked at Woodford and Turnbuckle. “If anything happens while I’m gone, find Jack or Phil. Any other wires you need sent from Carson City, Claudius?”

  Turnbuckle shook his head and tapped a finger on the stack of telegrams on the desk. “This is all I need, providing that everything works out at the trial…which I hope will be soon.”

  “You and me both, Counselor,” Frank said. “You and me both.”

  Frank got Catamount Jack and Phil Noonan together in his office and explained his plan to them, after informing Jack that Phil was now a deputy, too.

  “But I’ll be in charge while you’re gone, right, Marshal?” Jack asked.

  Phil held up his hands before Frank could even answer. “I wouldn’t want it any other way, Jack,” he declared. “You’ve been working with Frank and wearing a badge for quite a while. I don’t really have any idea how to be a deputy, so I’ll be lookin’ to you to take charge.”