A small structure of heavy logs stood about a hundred and fifty yards away. That would be where the dynamite and blasting powder were kept. Nobody wanted to be too close to that in case something made it detonate. If that ever happened it would be a mighty big boom.
As they rode closer, Buckhorn asked Madison, “Does Thornton have a superintendant, or does he run the mine himself?”
“He’s in charge, and he doesn’t let anybody forget it. From what I hear, he started out as a mining engineer, bought into some of the mines he worked on, and made his money that way until he had enough to start out on his own. He’s had some strikes in other places, but none as good as the Jim Dandy.”
“Self-made man, eh?”
“Yeah, and so is Mr. Conroy. That means they’re both fighters, determined to get their own way.”
Someone must have been watching the trail and spotted them coming, because they were still a quarter of a mile away when several riders appeared, galloping toward them. Madison reined to a halt and turned in his saddle to motion for Conroy to stop the buggy.
“We’ll go meet that welcoming committee,” he said to Buckhorn.
“What are the chances they’ll start shooting without asking any questions?”
“It’s always possible,” Madison replied with a shrug. “But I think they’ll be curious enough they’ll want to find out what we’re doing here.”
He heeled his horse into motion again. So did Buckhorn. The two groups closed quickly on each other and stopped when twenty feet separated them.
Four men had come out to meet them, and Buckhorn didn’t recognize any of the quartet. He knew their type, though: hard-faced, well-armed men, ready for trouble.
Just like him and Yancy Madison.
One of the men leaned forward in his saddle and said, “Madison, what the hell are you doing up here? And is that Conroy in the buggy? Has he lost his mind?”
“He wants to parley with your boss,” Madison said. “Is Thornton here?”
“What if he is? He don’t want to talk to Conroy.”
“Know that for a fact, do you?”
“I damned well do,” the spokesman for Thornton’s men snapped. “He don’t want to talk to anybody. When he got back from town a little while ago and started into his house, he said he didn’t want to be disturbed unless it was an emergency.”
“I reckon this qualifies.”
“Nobody made you the judge of that.”
Madison scowled and said, “I don’t have a whole lot of patience for you fellas today. One of you started taking potshots at Mr. Conroy’s surveying crew in Gunsight Canyon yesterday and wounded one of the men. If you don’t want that to be a declaration of war, you’d better let our boss talk to your boss.”
“None of us shot at you.” A sneer twisted the man’s lips. “If we had, you’d be buzzard bait by now.”
Buckhorn knew the man was telling the truth about the ambush, but he didn’t say anything and his face remained impassive. This was one of those cases where the truth would just complicate things unnecessarily.
“What’s it gonna be?” Madison asked. “Do you let us through—or do we have to shoot our way in?” He laughed. “I think you’re outgunned.”
“You’re not a big enough fool to think the four of us are the only ones who’ll stop you, do you? You’ve got a dozen rifles pointed at you right now.”
That was probably an exaggeration—it was unlikely Hugh Thornton would have that many gunmen up here at the mine—but the possibility couldn’t be ruled out. Tension filled the air. One wrong move would have every man here burning powder as furiously as he could.
Madison, to give him credit, seemed cool as can be as he nodded toward the mine headquarters.
“Why don’t you at least go ask Thornton if he’s willing to talk? It’s not every day enemies can sit down together. Who knows, maybe they can settle this without a bunch of bloodshed.”
Thornton’s man blew out a dubious breath, then turned his head and said, “Cole, go tell the boss what’s going on.”
“Chances are he already knows, Bannister,” Cole said. “He’s standin’ out on the porch.”
“Go tell him anyway,” Bannister snapped.
Cole turned his horse and raced toward the log building that served as the headquarters of the Jim Dandy mine. He pulled his mount to a skidding stop in front of the porch and spoke to Hugh Thornton. After a moment, Thornton said something in return. Cole turned his horse, stood up in his stirrups, took off his hat, and waved it over his head, motioning for the visitors to come on in.
“See?” Madison said with a smile. “Wasn’t that better than us trying to kill each other?”
“Reckon I’ll reserve judgment on that,” Bannister said.
Madison waved the buggy on, then he and Buckhorn started forward as the three riders blocking the trail moved out of the way. The tension was less now, but it certainly hadn’t disappeared completely. The potential for violence still simmered right under the surface.
Bannister moved his horse alongside Buckhorn’s and said, “I didn’t know Conroy was so desperate for help that he’d started hiring dirty half-breeds.”
Buckhorn kept his eyes focused straight ahead and didn’t react.
Bannister let out an ugly laugh and went on, “I reckon you’ve been called enough names that you don’t even care anymore, do you, redskin? You’re used to people thinking that you’re lower than dirt—and that’s because you are.”
“Give it a rest, Bannister,” Madison said. “You’re not going to make any of us draw on you. If you want the ball started, you’re gonna have to do it yourself. And I’m not sure your boss would like that.”
They were close enough now for Buckhorn to make out the puzzled frown on Hugh Thornton’s face. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to see his archrival up here on his own ground.
Conroy had closed up the gap between the buggy and Buckhorn and Madison. The other four men he’d brought with him had moved in tighter, too. As they all stopped in front of the mine headquarters, Thornton rested his hands on the railing around the porch and regarded the visitors solemnly. He wore a flannel shirt and canvas trousers this morning and looked more like a man who might work in a mine, instead of owning one.
Now that Buckhorn got a better look at Thornton, he saw that the man was a little older than what he had thought the night before when he and Madison saw him leaving Crater City. His face was more lined and weathered, and there were gray streaks in the fair hair. He was probably close to Conroy’s age.
“This is an unexpected pleasure, Dennis,” Thornton said.
“Don’t waste your time acting like you’re glad to see me,” Conroy snapped.
“I’m just trying to be civil.”
“Was it civil to have your men try to murder my surveyors?”
Thornton’s eyebrows were rather bushy. They rose either in surprise, or in a fair imitation of that emotion. He said, “I could accuse you of the same thing, you know. My men have been attacked and harassed more than once.”
“Not by me,” Conroy said. “I play the game to win, and I play hard. But I play fair, Thornton, you know that.”
“I wish I did,” Thornton said quietly.
Conroy’s normally florid face flushed an even deeper red.
“I won’t sit here and be accused,” he snapped.
“You’re the one who drove up here to my place, remember? And you still haven’t told me what you want.”
“I want you to give up this crazy idea of building a competing spur line into Crater City,” Conroy said. “Do that and I’ll give you a contract right now to haul your ore in my cars for the same rate I’d charge anybody else.”
“That means I’d have to trust you to honor that bargain.”
Conroy’s hands tightened on the reins he still held until the knuckles turned white. He said, “Are you calling me a liar? A cheat?”
“You’ve tried to undercut me at every step for a couple of years no
w, Dennis. Why should I believe that you’d stop now?” Thornton shook his head. “No. I don’t trust you.”
“Then it’s going to be war between us,” Conroy said in a low, dangerous voice. “You know that, don’t you?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to start it right now.”
Bannister said, “Boss, why don’t we teach these fellas a lesson? Show ’em they should’ve stayed down there in town where they’re safe, instead of coming up here where there are real men.”
“No,” Thornton said sharply. “We’re not going to start the trouble.”
“You already did,” Conroy said, “when you sent cheap gunmen after my surveyors.”
“Cheap gunmen?” Bannister repeated as he moved his horse toward the buggy. “I’ll show you cheap, you dirty Mick—”
Buckhorn blocked Bannister’s horse with his roan. “That’s enough,” he said.
Bannister sneered at him. “You don’t mind me calling you a filthy ’breed, but you draw the line at insulting some Irish ape—”
He stopped short, grabbed a quirt hanging from his saddle, and slashed at Buckhorn’s face with it.
CHAPTER 13
Buckhorn’s hand shot up to grab the quirt before it could strike him. With a twist of his wrist, he tore it out of Bannister’s grasp and threw it aside.
He expected Bannister to go for his gun next, but instead the man launched from horseback in a diving tackle that sent him crashing into Buckhorn. Bannister’s weight drove Buckhorn out of the saddle, and both men fell to the ground amidst the legs of the suddenly skittish horses.
Buckhorn landed hard enough that he felt the jolt all through his body. It drove the air from his lungs and stunned him for a second. Bannister was on top of him and threw a punch aimed at his face. Buckhorn jerked his head to the side just in time. Bannister’s fist grazed his left ear, but mostly the gunman just slammed his hand into the hard ground.
Bannister yelled in pain and anger. Buckhorn cut the shout short by arching his body upward and throwing Bannister off. As Bannister sprawled beside him, Buckhorn rolled over and drove the point of his elbow into the man’s belly. Bannister gasped and threw a wild left that connected with Buckhorn’s jaw and knocked him over onto his back again.
Buckhorn was vaguely aware of shouts coming from the men around them, but he didn’t pay much attention. Bannister had attacked him, and the rage to strike back welled up and filled Buckhorn.
Bannister dived at him again, but Buckhorn grabbed his shirt and heaved him on over. That sent Bannister rolling almost under the hooves of the horses. Men on both sides of the conflict pulled their mounts back hurriedly so the men on the ground wouldn’t be trampled.
Buckhorn pushed himself to his knees and glanced around. Instead of reaching for their guns, the men appeared to be content for the moment to watch this battle between representatives of both sides. They yelled encouragement as Buckhorn and Bannister both got to their feet.
Conroy sat in the buggy with an expression of rapt interest on his face. Thornton watched from the porch, still leaning on the railing, and he looked worried more than anything else.
Buckhorn had lost his bowler when Bannister knocked him off his horse. His long black hair fell in front of his face. As he lifted a hand to push it back, Bannister charged him.
Bannister threw wild, looping punches. Buckhorn was able to block most of them, but a couple got through and caught him in the chest, rocking him back a step. He landed a hard left jab to Bannister’s face and felt blood spurt hotly over his knuckles as they mashed the gunman’s nose. Bannister roared furiously and pressed his attack, boring in and forcing Buckhorn to give ground.
Buckhorn turned his opponent’s fierce assault against him. As soon as Bannister had enough momentum built up, Buckhorn grabbed the man’s shirt and went over backward as he pulled the startled Bannister forward. Buckhorn lifted his right leg and planted his boot in Bannister’s midsection. Still pulling with his hands, he used his leg to lever Bannister up and over him. Bannister let out a wild shout as he found himself sailing through the air.
Bannister came down with stunning impact. Buckhorn rolled over and leaped to his feet. He stood there watching, fists clenched, as Bannister struggled to get up.
“Damn . . . dirty . . . Injun rasslin’ trick!” Bannister gasped as he came to his feet. “Why don’t you . . . fight like a white man?”
“I fight to win,” Buckhorn said, “whatever it takes.”
From the porch, Hugh Thornton called, “That’s enough, Bannister.”
The gunman ignored him and charged at Buckhorn again.
The fight had taken a toll on Bannister. He was moving slower now, and he wasn’t as steady on his feet as he had been. Buckhorn darted aside, and as Bannister stumbled past him, Buckhorn slammed a punch to the small of his back. Bannister cried out.
Clubbing his hands together, Buckhorn swung them in a smashing blow to the back of Bannister’s neck. Bannister went down like a sack of potatoes somebody had dropped. He lay there on the ground in a crumpled heap. His breath rasped in his throat. After a couple of seconds he tried to get up, but then he moaned and sagged down again. This time he remained motionless.
“All right, mister,” Thornton said to Buckhorn, “you’ve had your fun.”
Buckhorn was breathing a little hard himself. He tossed his head to get the hair out of his eyes, glared at Thornton, and said, “If you think this was fun, you’re out of your damned mind. I don’t fight for fun.”
“That’s right,” Conroy said with a defiant jut of his chin. “My man was just defending me, Thornton, and then himself. Your man started the trouble.”
“I think our conversation is done, Dennis. You should go back to town and take your men with you.”
“You won’t listen to reason?”
“Not if it means trusting you,” Thornton said.
“Then whatever happens, it’s on your head.” Conroy lifted the reins and turned the buggy around.
The three Thornton men who were still mounted moved their horses as if to block the buggy, but Thornton waved them back.
“Let him go,” he said with a note of weariness in his voice. “I don’t want any more trouble today.”
Buckhorn picked up his bowler and slapped it against his leg to knock the dust off it. He put it on and then took his horse’s reins when Madison held them out to him.
As they were riding away, following Conroy’s buggy, Madison said, “That was quite a brawl, Joe. You’d better keep your eyes open from now on, though. I’ve heard rumors that Bannister is a back shooter. He’ll probably be too sore to move much for a few days, but he won’t forget that whipping.”
“I’m in the habit of keeping my eyes open,” Buckhorn said. “It won’t be anything new for me to have some son of a bitch gunning for me.”
Madison chuckled and said, “No, I suspect it won’t be.”
* * *
By the time they got back to Crater City, Buckhorn was feeling pretty stiff and sore himself. As they were putting their horses up, he said to Madison, “What do you think the boss will do now? He told Thornton it was going to be war between them.”
“I don’t know. I reckon he’ll tell us when he figures it out. Just keep yourself handy.”
“I’ll be at the café, the Irish Rose, or the hotel.”
Madison grinned.
“Yeah, you’re probably too beat up right now to pay a visit to Miss Quinn’s.”
Buckhorn just grunted. He had nothing against prostitutes—if it weren’t for soiled doves, he wouldn’t have had much female companionship over the years—but he wasn’t looking for that right now.
Although he wouldn’t have minded talking to Sandra again. Judging by the conversation they’d had when she wasn’t trying to kill him, she seemed to know quite a bit about what was going on in Crater City. That wasn’t uncommon. Most men weren’t too careful about what they said around whores.
After he h
ad turned the roan over to Sol at the livery stable, Buckhorn headed for the café. It was after midday by now, and he thought a thick steak and some strong coffee might help restore him after his battle with Bannister.
Buckhorn was a little surprised to see Woodrow sitting at one of the tables with its blue-and-white-checkered tablecloth. The white-bearded old-timer lifted a hand in greeting and motioned for Buckhorn to join him.
“I figured you’d be up at the Jim Dandy at this time of day,” Buckhorn said as he pulled out one of the empty chairs and sat down.
“Naw, I brung a load of ore in this mornin’, and I ain’t gettin’ in any hurry to get back.”
“How does Thornton feel about that?”
“Hugh don’t care,” Woodrow said. “He’s mighty good about things like that. Best fella I ever worked for, to tell you the truth.”
“Well, it’s natural you’d feel like that, I suppose, since he pays your wages.”
Woodrow snorted.
“Not hardly! I’ve worked for some pure-dee polecats in my day, and I knowed it at the time. Some of my bosses weren’t worth the powder to blow ’em to hell. I got shed of those jobs just as fast as I could. Hugh Thornton ain’t nothin’ like that.”
“You think he’s an honest man, then?”
“Never saw any indication otherwise.” Woodrow picked up the cup of coffee next to his empty plate and took a sip. “Now, don’t let what I just said fool you. Thornton’s a tough hombre. Came up the hard way, he did, and he knows how to take a punch and how to dish one out. If he thinks he’s in the right, he’ll fight you tooth and nail. But he ain’t a crook.”
“You’re leaving something unsaid. You think Dennis Conroy is a crook.”
Woodrow shook his head.
“I never said that. But there are plenty of lowdown things I sure wouldn’t put past him. He’s hired some pretty ornery critters.”
“Present company excepted?” Buckhorn asked with a raised eyebrow.
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