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Bayer Drug Company. It'll be available in a few years, so I'm told. I got some laudanum, if you want it."
    â€œMaybe later,” Frank said. “Thanks."
    Frank walked on down the street, stepping carefully along the warped old boardwalk that still showed signs of the times when the town had been destroyed by fire. He came to a café called the Silver Spoon and went inside for a bite.
    Frank had the Blue Plate Special: beef and beans and a piece of pie. He lingered at the table for a few minutes, enjoying a pretty good cup of coffee and a cigarette, watching the people in the small town as they went about their business.
    â€œYou working a claim here?” the cook asked, coming out to lean on the counter. There was only a handful of people in the café, for it was not yet time for the supper crowd.
    â€œNo,” Frank replied. “Just passing through."
    â€œYou sure look familiar to me. I know you from somewheres?"
    â€œCould be."
    Frank was sitting at a corner table, his back to a wall, as was his custom. He had a good view of much of the street and everyone in the café.
    A woman came up and whispered in the cook's ear. The cook's mouth dropped open, and his eyes bugged out for a few seconds. He stared at Frank for a couple of heartbeats. “Good God! It really is him!” the cook blurted, then beat it back to the kitchen.
    The woman—Frank assumed she was the waitress—looked over at him and smiled. “Remember me, Frank?"
    â€œCan't say as I do. You want to hotten up this coffee, please?"
    â€œSure.” The woman brought the pot over and filled his cup, then sat down uninvited across the table from Frank.
    â€œI was married to Jim Peters,” the woman said softly.
    Frank paused in his sugaring and stirring. His eyes narrowed briefly; then he nodded his head. “I recall Jim Peters. He tried to back-shoot me up in Kansas."
    â€œThat's him,” the woman said with a sigh. “Coward right to the end. I left him a couple of years before that shooting. Moved to Dodge. He followed me. I still wouldn't have anything to do with him. You did me a favor by killing him."
    Frank sipped his coffee and waited, sensing the woman was not finished.
    â€œThat was five years ago, Frank. But the man who offered up five thousand dollars to see you dead is still alive, and the money is still up for your death—to anyone that's brave enough to go for it."
    Frank set his cup down on the table. “I never knew anything about any five thousand dollars on my head."
    The woman studied Frank's face for a moment. “You really don't know, do you?"
    â€œNo."
    â€œHe's a lawyer. Works for the Henson Enterprises."
    â€œThey own a mine here in Crossing."
    â€œThe biggest mine, Frank. No telling how many millions of dollars of silver was taken out of that mine. One more shipment to go, and the mine closes."
    â€œBut they can't ship it because of the Pine and Vanbergen gangs, right?"
    â€œThat's right, Frank. And then here you come riding in, getting set to get all tangled up in something that doesn't really concern you."
    â€œIt's a long story, Miss ... ah—"
    â€œIt's still Peters. We were never divorced. And please call me Angie."
    â€œAll right, Angie it is. And I assure you, it does concern me, greatly."
    Angie shook her head. “Because of Mrs. Vivian L. Browning, Frank?"
    â€œYou know a lot, Angie. The question is, why?"
    â€œWhy do I know? I've owned cafés all over the West. People talk in cafés as much or more as they do in saloons.” She smiled. “And I am a real good listener."
    â€œI bet you are.” Frank returned the smile as he studied the woman. A good-looking woman. Not beautiful, but very, very attractive. Black hair, blue eyes, and a head-turning figure. Frank bet that when Angie took a stroll men looked ... and wives got mad.
    â€œHow many men do Pine and Vanbergen have?"
    â€œNo one knows for sure. Thirty or forty