Crossing the Line (16 page)

Rather than hold her up any longer, Clint eased her down. Sadie laid with her chest flat against the mattress, her head turned to the side and her hips up high to receive him. Her face was twisted in an expression of sheer pleasure, but she didn't have enough strength to make another sound. Clint got a good grip on her and thrust a few more times before he was past the point of no return.

After pounding into her one last time, he unleashed an orgasm that took the breath from his lungs. He climbed off the bed to place his gun belt on the chair within easy reach and when he came back, Sadie was already asleep.

Clint slept in the chair that night. He let Sadie have her rest in the bed on her own simply so he wouldn't get too comfortable himself. If he crawled into bed with her, he could very possibly be lulled into too deep of a sleep to catch the telltale signs of someone trying to get into his room. That warm body in between those soft blankets would have been too much of a distraction for a man who needed to keep his ears and one eye open throughout the entire night.

He didn't know if anyone would come after him or Sadie, but then again, he hadn't guessed someone would come after Carl or shoot Delilah. Clint still had a hard time swallowing that cold bit of news. At times when he'd been playing cards at Mack's table, Clint could relax as if Delilah simply wasn't working that night.

Other times, it was difficult for him to stop thinking about how she'd assaulted him with all those nods and shakes of her head that eventually proved to be her way of turning him into a cheat. If anyone else had done something like that, Clint would have never wanted to see his or her face again. More than likely, he would have made them regret even trying a trick along those lines. But Delilah was different. She may have been a cheat, but Clint had the sense that her heart was in the right place.

No matter what, she didn't deserve to die the way she had.

Clint might have been able to accept it a little better if he'd heard that she'd been caught cheating or got into an altercation after stacking the odds a bit more in her favor. That sort of thing happened to crooked faro dealers, and it would have been the sort of thing any dealer in her position would have prepared for. Delilah would have taken a gamble on her own accord and lost.

Unfortunate, but not quite tragic.

But Delilah had died because a loud, crazy idiot had crossed the line. George was too far past that line to be dealt with by the likes of a lawman like DeFalco, and he was too far gone to be left to the mercies of the harsh open country. Someone needed to track George down and teach him why there was a line in the first place.

George must have known that brand of justice was headed his way. Perhaps that's why he'd become so reckless. Clint didn't really care about that bastard's reasons any longer. All he needed to know was that George was nearby and living on borrowed time.

Almost certainly, that's all Carl needed to know as well.

In those hours he sat in his chair, watching the door and listening to every bump in the night, Clint knew that Carl was probably out there somewhere doing that very same thing. If Carl wasn't listening and watching for George to make another foolish move, then there was the distinct possibility that he was making some moves of his own.

George was too desperate to lie low, and he was too stupid to run away.

The more Clint thought about that last part, the more it bothered him. When he put that together with what he'd heard from Tom back at the Emporium, Clint was bothered even more.

The line was going to be crossed again. Clint knew that much for certain. All that remained to be seen was who would stay alive long enough to get back to the proper side.

Although they were both anxious to see Carl, Sadie didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to leave the hotel. She took her time getting dressed, possibly as a way to tempt Clint back into bed, which almost worked. If Clint hadn't gotten himself so riled up in his hours of sleeplessly watching the door, he would have had no problem spending a few extra hours there. Once she saw that Clint was too wound up to be tempted, Sadie made herself presentable and followed him to where Eclipse was tied.

“Are you worried about missing your brother?” Clint asked.

“I told you before. Carl shows up later every time. Even if he did get there before us, he'd wait to see me. If he intends on running about trying to get his fool head blown off, then let him cool his heels for a while.”

Clint climbed onto the Darley Arabian's back and helped Sadie up into the saddle behind him. “If it's all the same to you, I'd still like to get back there as soon as we can.”

“Whatever you like,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his midsection.

The ride to the cabin was short, due mostly to the fact that a lot of the town was still sleeping. There was just enough light in the sky to light their way, and the air still had the cool, damp bite left over from the night before. A few locals were setting up shop for the day, but they were too busy to notice a single horse riding past.

As soon as they arrived at the cabin, Clint walked around inside to make sure there were no visitors hidden in the corner of a room and waiting to get the jump on them. Sadie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as she waited for him to come outside.

“Find any monsters?” she asked.

“No. You can come on in.”

“I told you there wouldn't be anyone in there.”

“Well, I appreciate you being so understanding,” Clint sneered. “With everything that's happened, I would have thought you'd be more cautious.”

“A murdering asshole is running about and the sheriff doesn't give a damn,” she said as she rummaged in her kitchen to gather what she needed to prepare some breakfast. “An innocent woman is dead. If my brother isn't dead, he's sure as hell trying to get there. Sometimes, the rain comes down so hard that you just can't concern yourself with getting wet anymore.”

Clint would have had a hard time arguing with that, so he kept his mouth shut and took a look in Carl's room.

Sadie didn't seem to mind if he snooped around, but he still wasn't about to turn the place upside down. Instead, he opened a few dresser drawers, checked under the bed, and opened the small, narrow closet. Clint wasn't just being nosy. He was looking to see just how long Carl intended on staying away. Since most of the drawers were full of clothes and there was a pair of old boots overturned under the bed, it didn't seem that Carl meant to leave for good. But the overturned boots suggested to Clint that their owner might have left in a rush.

So far, all of that matched what he'd been told.

Clint looked around the cabin's perimeter and searched the surrounding property, but was unable to come up with any fresh tracks or other signs that would prove someone had been sneaking around there recently.

All of this was helpful, but was mostly to keep him occupied until breakfast was ready. Even after Sadie had put together a simple meal for them consisting of some scrambled eggs and bacon, Clint could barely sit still long enough to eat.

“You're not very good at waiting, are you?” she asked.

“What was your first hint?”

“We could keep busy, you know,” Sadie said with a wicked glint in her eye. “My bed's awfully comfortable.”

Just as Clint was going to reply to that, he heard the front door creak as if it was being eased open. When he turned to face that direction, Clint's hand reflexively went toward the Colt at his side.

Carl stood in the doorway with a rifle hefted over one shoulder and a holster wrapped around his waist. “What did you just say about your bed?” he asked suspiciously.

Before Clint could do much of anything, he was cut off by Sadie. She dropped what she was doing, raced across the small cabin, and jumped at her brother to wrap her arms around his neck. Carl hugged her back and even picked her up for a moment to swing her like a little girl.

“It's only been a little while,” Carl said. “You're acting like you didn't think you would see me again.”

“With you stomping off to wherever you go, I never know if I'll see you again,” she scolded. “Please tell me you're going to stay home for a while longer this time.”

Carl looked up to meet Clint's gaze. “Can't do that, sis.”

Waiting until Sadie had had sufficient time to fuss over her brother, Clint stepped forward. Carl let her go and extended a hand to him. “I hear you've been busy,” Clint said as he shook the hand that was offered.

“I didn't even hear you'd be coming back to town. Did my sister find you and drag you back here?”

“Not at all. I came back to play in Mack's poker game.”

Carl nodded. “That's right. Mister Pace always gets excited when gamblers with deep pockets decide to use a table in his place. Just another angle he's got worked out. So,” he added as his eyes drifted toward Sadie's bedroom, “it sounds like you've been staying here for a while.”

She swatted him on the shoulder and spun around to march back to the kitchen. “Don't be so crude. I was just playing when I said that.”

Unconvinced, Carl looked back at Clint with an intensity that could only be summoned by a protective brother.

Clint held up his hands and said, “I swear, I've never seen her bed and didn't plan on seeing it now.”

Although that wasn't exactly in the spirit of the truth, it wasn't a lie. Carl must have sensed as much, so he nodded and stopped staring a hole through Clint's skull. “Are you cooking up breakfast?”

“It's a bit late, but yes,” Sadie replied.

“I'll have some, if you don't mind.”

“Not at all, Carl,” Sadie replied as she looked over her shoulder to smile at him. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks.”

Clint watched the other man carefully. It didn't take much scrutiny to pick out the fact that Carl was tired. He moved as if there were bricks in his boots and breathed as if he was tasting fresh air for the first time. There was plenty Clint wanted to talk about with Carl, but he figured most of it could wait until they'd all gotten some food in their bellies. Some questions, however, Clint couldn't hold back.

“So what happened with Delilah?” he asked.

Carl's head drooped as if he'd been expecting that question all along. “She was shot by an animal that should've been in a cage,” he replied.

“I hear she was trying to get to you.”

Sadie glanced over at them as she scrambled the eggs. Although she seemed ready to jump in, she kept from doing so.

“I honestly don't know what she was trying to do,” Carl said. “One minute George was shouting at me and the next, I was being pulled behind her table.”

“What did George want?”

“Same as he always wants. He says he was cheated, even though everyone knows better. He created a commotion and started a ruckus. It was so loud, it just filled my ears and got my head rattling. When it looked like I was on my own, I decided to step in and end it. That's when Delilah must have gotten jumpy, because she was the one to pull me back. There was a shot and she dropped.”

“And after that?” Clint asked.

Carl drew a long breath and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “After that, she died. What else is there to say? She was my friend and she was killed for no good reason.”

“That's enough, Clint,” Sadie said as she began walking to her brother's side.

Without looking at her, Carl waved her off. Sadie got back to her cooking, but looked over her shoulder every couple of seconds.

“What about Les?” Clint asked.

“What about him?”

“Every time I've been in that place, Les is watching over everything like a hawk. Was he there that night?”

After thinking about it for all of two seconds, Carl said, “He's there every night. I think he lives in one of the rooms upstairs right in the Emporium. Come to think of it, I recall him being there that night. There was a rowdy drunk causing trouble at the bar and Mister Pace gave Les hell for not tossing the man out on his ear fast enough.”

“That's interesting.”

“It is?”

“Most definitely,” Clint mused. “I talked to a man named Tom Naderman who said Les wasn't there the night Delilah was shot. Either that, or he wasn't around when it happened.”

“Tom Naderman?” Carl grunted.

“You know,” Sadie insisted as she brought over some coffee. “
Tom
.”

Carl shrugged and took a sip, which did more to bolster his spirits than anything else so far.

“Even if Les had stepped out for a bit or was upstairs in his room,” Clint said, “he should have been able to get downstairs quickly enough to deal with George. How much commotion was there when he arrived?”

“He busted in with his gun drawn,” Carl said. “Folks were shouting. People were jumping from their chairs.”

“But Les still didn't hear enough to draw him into the main room before things went from bad to worse? That's even more interesting.”

“I can beat that, Mister Adams,” Carl whispered. Shooting a quick glance at Sadie, he added, “But not right now.”

If Carl wanted to wait until after getting something to eat, Clint would oblige him. He'd never wolfed down a hot meal so quickly.

The last time Clint had been standing on the stretch of land just outside of that cabin, he'd been teaching Carl how to stand up for himself. Although shooting lessons had been a part of that, Clint's intention had been to help Carl walk a little straighter. That was it, and that seemed like an awfully long time ago.