around to watch the angry confrontation had seen the whole thing. Tip hadn’t left him with any choice.
Stepping over to the mayor, who was still on one knee, Frank reached down and took hold of his arm. “Come on, Tip,” he said.
Woodford stared up at him. “You’re arrestin’ me, Frank? Me?”
“You shouldn’t have taken a poke at Brighton. That’s assault and disturbing the peace.”
“He’s the one who’s disturbed the peace o’ this town!”
Tip was right about that, Frank thought, but that sort of disturbance wasn’t against the law, worse luck.
“Frank, you can’t do this,” Diana said as Frank helped her father to his feet.
“The law says I do,” Frank replied heavily.
Woodford brushed himself off and straightened his shoulders, achieving a rough dignity despite his work clothes.
“It’s all right, Frank,” he said. “We hired you to be the marshal and enforce the law, and I reckon that’s what you got to do, whether any of us like it or not.”
“And I sure don’t,” Frank said under his breath.
“Are you taking him to jail?” Brighton demanded.
Frank turned toward the man.
“That’s right.”
Brighton sneered. “And I assume you’ll let him go as soon as you get there. This is all for show, isn’t it?”
“Nope. Mayor Woodford will be treated like any other prisoner. He’ll stay in jail until he posts bail, and then his case will be heard by the circuit judge when the judge holds court here.”
“Who’s going to set the amount of the bail?”
Tip laughed harshly.
“As the mayor, I gen’rally do that. Reckon this time it’ll be up to the marshal.”
Frank nodded. “You usually set bail at twenty dollars for offenses like this, Mayor. So to make sure there aren’t any complaints about favoritism…” He shot Brighton a dark look, then continued. “I’m going to set bail at fifty dollars for you.”
“That’s a joke!” Brighton protested, flinging a hand angrily toward Woodford. “He can pay that without any trouble.”
“I’ve more than doubled the usual bail,” Frank said. “If that’s not enough to satisfy you, Brighton, then you can take it up with the judge when he gets here.”
“Don’t think for a second that I won’t.”
Still holding Woodford’s arm, Frank steered him toward the squat stone building that housed the marshal’s office and town jail.
“Come on, Tip.”
Woodford looked at his daughter and told her, “Get the bail money from the office and bring it over later, honey. No need to get in any hurry about doin’ it, though. I don’t mind sittin’ in jail for a while. It’s been a long time since I been behind bars.”
Frank led the mayor away. He cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure that Dex Brighton didn’t try to bother Diana Woodford.
The Easterner didn’t even look in Diana’s direction, though. He just picked up his hat, slapped it against his thigh to remove some of the dust from it, clapped it on his head, and strode off toward the hotel.
“That was a damn fool stunt, Tip,” Frank said under his breath to his prisoner. “You didn’t leave me any option except to arrest you.”
“Doggone it, I know that, Frank, and I’m sorry I put you in that spot. That Brighton hombre just makes me so mad I can’t see straight. I reckon I went plumb loco.”
Frank grunted. “Can’t say as I blame you. Fella waltzes in here and tries to take away what you’ve worked years for. That’s enough to make anybody loco.” Frank paused. “Problem is, he may have the law on his side.”
“I don’t believe it for a minute! Brighton’s crooked. You can tell it just by lookin’ at him.”
For Tip’s sake—and for the sake of the town—Frank hoped that the mayor was right. He had a feeling that Buckskin would be worse off with Brighton as the owner of the Lucky Lizard. Tip had always funneled some of his profits from the mine right back into the town, although not very many people knew about that.
They met Catamount Jack on the way to the jail. “What’n blazes is goin’ on here?” the deputy asked. “Frank, it looks like you’re arrestin’ the mayor!”
“That’s what I’m doing. Tip got into a ruckus with Brighton. He threw the first punch.”
“It was a good one, too,” Woodford said with a smile. “Felt it all the way up to my shoulder.”
“I sent Vern Robeson to fetch you,” Frank went on. “How come you’re just showing up now, Jack?”
“I was, uh, indisposed. Sorry, Marshal.”
Frank knew that Jack must have been in the out-house behind the jail when Robeson came looking for him.
“That’s all right,” he said. “It happens to the best of us.”
They reached the building and went inside. Frank waved toward the old sofa that sat against the front wall and told Woodford, “You might as well have a seat while we’re waiting for Diana, Tip. I don’t think there’s any need to put you in a cell.”
Woodford shook his head. “No, I want you to lock me up just like you would anybody else. Brighton’s already got it in for you, too. I don’t want to give him any more ammunition for when Judge Grampis gets here.”
“Suit yourself,” Frank said as he reached for a ring of keys hanging on a nail on the wall behind the desk. “The bunks in the cells are probably just about as comfortable as that sofa anyway. At least they don’t have any broken springs sticking up through them.”
He unlocked the door to the cell block and put Woodford in one of the cells, all of which were empty at the moment. Woodford himself pulled the door shut with a clang.
“Any coffee in the pot, Jack?” Frank asked.
“Always coffee in the pot,” the deputy answered. “Question is, is it fit to drink?”
“Well, is it?”
“Only one way to find out. I’ll get cups for both of you.”
Jack brought the coffee while Frank sat down on a stool in front of the cell where Tip Woodford had lowered his bulk onto the blanket-covered bunk.
“I’ll go take a turn around town,” Jack said. “The fellas comin’ in from the mines need to see a badge to remind ’em that Buckskin’s a law-abidin’ place.”
He
