The Gunsmith 385 (5 page)

FOURTEEN

Clint was awakened by a rustling somewhere close to him. When he opened his eyes, he realized he'd been sleeping for a while longer than he'd first guessed. The only light came from the pale half-moon hanging in the sky, which was just enough to illuminate the familiar figure looming directly above him.

“You're here?” he mumbled.

Delia smiled down at him. Her hair was tousled and hung down around both sides of her face like a soft blond curtain. “Told you I'd pay you a visit,” she whispered.

Clint reached up to find she was even closer than he'd originally thought. Instead of standing near him, she was lowering herself directly on top of him. More than that, when his hands found her in the near-darkness, they touched smooth naked skin. He moved his hands up and down to find not one stitch of clothing. When he cupped her bare breasts and ran his thumbs against her nipples, Clint's entire body woke up.

“If I'm dreaming, I'd rather not wake up,” he said as the tired fog in his head began to clear.

“Let's see,” she whispered. Delia reached between his legs to stroke his growing erection. “Seems like you're awake to me.” She lowered her mouth onto his cock. Her lips wrapped around him, and she began to lick his shaft from top to bottom. When she felt his hands on her body, she said, “Oh yes. Definitely awake.”

“Get over here,” he said while taking hold of her and pulling her back on top of him. Rather than climbing onto him, Delia swung a leg over his head and straddled Clint's face. Her slick pussy was directly over his mouth and she moaned softly when he started to lick her. Soon, she lowered her head again and sucked him with renewed vigor.

They tasted each other for a few minutes, Clint licking the moist lips between her thighs while she took his pole into her mouth. It wasn't long, however, before she craved more and crawled forward to sit on his rigid penis. Clint lay back and admired the view as he slipped inside her. Delia's back had a smooth line that started between her shoulder blades and ran all the way down to the slope of her buttocks. Keeping her back to him, she started rocking back and forth while holding on to his legs for support.

Although he enjoyed that well enough, Clint wanted to see her face as he pumped into her. Once again, all he needed to use was his hands to guide her to the exact spot he wanted her to go. Delia was more than willing to oblige him, and with a little bit of repositioning, she was astride him so they could look directly into each other's eyes. Her hair looked like strands of silk in the moonlight, and her skin was cool to the touch. As Clint moved his hands along the front of her body, she closed her eyes and slowly writhed on top of him.

His hands went to her breasts and stayed there as she reached down to guide his cock into her. After taking him all the way inside, she placed her hands on top of his and leaned her head back while letting out a measured breath. Delia ground her hips in a circular motion until he hit just the right spot inside her. Then it was her turn to guide Clint to where she wanted him to go. She moved one of his hands down along her stomach and below her waist. Taking her direction one step further, Clint started rubbing the sensitive nub of flesh just above her opening. Delia gasped as he stroked her clit and soon she was sitting fully upright and massaging her breasts as if she was pleasuring herself in a quiet moment alone.

He kept rubbing her, savoring every moment of the show she was giving him. It wasn't long before she urgently whispered, “Right there. Don't stop. Don't stop.”

Clint wouldn't have stopped if two fires had started within a stone's throw of where he was lying. When she climaxed, Delia riding his cock as if she ached to feel every inch of him was almost enough to drive him over the edge. Locking her eyes on to him, she pressed her hands flat against his chest and bucked her hips in a steady pumping motion.

As her pleasure built even more, Delia whipped her hair back and clenched her eyes shut. Sensing she was running out of steam, Clint started thrusting up into her. Although she opened her mouth to speak, she was unable to make a sound. Her legs tightened their grip on either side of him. Her nails dug into his skin. Clint buried his cock between her legs with one last push as Delia's climax finally subsided. Although she was able to open her eyes again and relax somewhat, she was far from through.

Her entire body moved in an almost serpentine rhythm as her hips thrust back and forth. Knowing all too well the effect she was having on him, she rode Clint a little faster. Delia ran a finger between her breasts and then placed that finger upon his lips so he could taste the sweat she'd worked up while riding him. Clint pulled her down to kiss her hungrily as he exploded inside her.

She lay on top of him for a while, running her hand over his chest and slowly shifting her weight. He knew it wouldn't be long before he'd be ready for her again. Judging by the smile on her face, Delia knew it, too.

FIFTEEN

Somebody coughing and spitting woke Tom Barry the next morning. He rolled out of his bedroll, staggered to his feet, and made his way to the campfire.

Irish O'Brien had taken the last watch, so it was he who had put the coffee on. The strong smell of the trail brew popped Barry's eyes open.

“Pour me a cup,” he growled at O'Brien.

“Sure, boss.”

O'Brien poured it and handed Barry a cup.

“Hey, boss,” the Irishman said, “can we talk before the others wake up?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Barry said with his nose in his cup. If for no other reason, he'd keep O'Brien around for his coffee.

“The money,” O'Brien said, “how'd we do?”

Barry looked at O'Brien. So far he was only the second one to ask about the money.

“Not as well as I thought we'd do,” he said.

“Well, I mean, how much is that?”

“About four thousand.”

“Four thousand?” O'Brien repeated.

“Shhh,” Barry said. “Quiet.”

The Irishman lowered his voice.

“That's a lot of money.”

“If you're splittin' it two ways, yeah,” Barry said, “but not if you're splittin' it five ways.”

“I get ya,” O'Brien said. He leaned in and lowered his voice even more. “How many ways are we gonna split it?”

“Well . . . if you don't tell anybody about it,” Barry said, “it could be two ways.”

“I get it,” O'Brien said. “You can count on me.”

“Good,” Barry said, “I knew I could. How about some more of that coffee?”

“Sure, boss,” O'Brien said. “You want breakfast?”

“No,” he said, “we're gonna get an early start.”

“You think there's a posse after us?”

“I don't know,” he said, “but we're not gonna take any chances.”

“I getcha.”

Behind them they heard the other men beginning to stir. Barry was pretty sure Hastings and O'Brien would keep quiet about their conversations. It remained to be seen if the other men would even ask. So far, though, he still had all the money in his possession.

And that was the way he wanted to keep it.

 * * * 

Clint woke early, washed, and dressed without waking Delia. They each knew what they had to do. They had discussed it during the night, so there was no need to go through it again.

He left the hotel, carrying his saddlebags, rifle, and the Greener. He intended to travel light and fast, so all he'd need was his canteen and some beef jerky. He'd pick up his clean laundry the next time he came into town.

He stopped at the doctor's office first.

“He slept through the night,” Doc Evans said, “and seems a bit stronger this morning. I'm hopeful.”

“Can I see him?”

“He's asleep again,” Evans said. “That's the best thing for him.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Are you going after them?” Evans asked.

“Right now.”

“Alone?”

“I don't have time to get up a posse,” Clint said. “Can you think of anybody who would go with me?”

“Truthfully, no,” he said. “All we have here are storekeepers and clerks, Mr. Adams. I don't think you could get up a posse even if the bank had been robbed.”

“Then I guess I'm on my own,” Clint said.

“I'd go with you, but—”

“You've got your job to do here, Doc,” Clint said. “Just pull him through.”

“I'll do my best.”

Clint headed for the door and said, “That makes two of us.”

SIXTEEN

Clint picked up the trail outside of town. He'd checked out the ground in front of the saloon, and although the five horses' tracks were in among many others, he'd noticed a couple of things that might help him.

Just outside of town he found a cluster of tracks and got down on one knee to examine them. Sure enough, he found a horse with only three shoes. He didn't know the reason—maybe it had just thrown the fourth one—but this track had also been in front of the saloon. It could have belonged to a customer, but since it was in with the others, he chose to believe that it belonged to one of the robbers.

Satisfied that he had a trail to follow, he mounted up and headed out.

 * * * 

Travis watched as Clint Adams studied the ground. He knew Adams was a competent tracker, but was sure that he was much better. If the Gunsmith had accepted his offer of help, they'd be on their way already.

Adams remained on one knee for some time, then stood up, mounted up, and rode off, going north.

Travis rode down to where Adams had dismounted and took a look for himself, also dismounting. Immediately, he spotted the horse with three shoes. He, too, had seen that track in front of Rick's Place. Could have belonged to a customer, but like Clint, he chose to believe otherwise.

He mounted up and rode after Clint.

 * * * 

Clint rode ten miles and stopped. Here he found the tracks of both horses and men. They had not camped here, but they had stopped, probably to get their breath, or split the money, or simply discuss their options.

If Barry and his men knew enough to know that Rick kept money on hand, they knew enough about the town to figure out that there was no posse after them. That is, unless he was giving them more credit than they deserved.

The tracks of the three-shoed horse confirmed that, so far, he was on the right trail.

He walked around a bit then, satisfied that the tracks had told him all they were going to, mounted up, and headed off again.

 * * * 

Travis once again was not actually following Clint so much as he was trailing him. He also came to the cluster of tracks that showed that the gang had stopped to rest. So far Adams was doing okay in tracking this gang, but the time would come when the tracks dried up. Then what would he do?

Travis mounted up and continued on at a leisurely pace. There was no reason to rush.

 * * * 

Clint made camp, secure in the thought that he was on the right track. As much as he would have liked to continue, there was no point in risking Eclipse's safety, as well as his own, riding in the dark.

He built a fire, made some coffee. He always had some in his saddlebags, even when he was traveling light. He broke off a piece of beef jerky to have for his supper when the coffee was ready.

“I've got beans,” Travis said from the darkness.

“You've been out there long enough,” Clint said.

“I got a frying pan. You got plates?”

“Come on in.”

Travis came into the firelight, leading his horse.

“Hold on,” Clint said.

The young man stopped.

“If I let you stay, you going to take off on me again in the morning?”

“I guess that depends on whether or not you accept my second offer of help,” Travis said.

“All right,” Clint said, “give me the beans and take care of your horse. We'll talk about it over supper.”

Travis tossed Clint the pan and beans, and he poured them into the frying pan while Travis saw to his horse. Of course, they'd done this once before, but maybe this time it would end differently.

Travis came over and Clint handed him a cup of coffee.

“Whoee,” Travis said after sipping it.

“It's good coffee,” Clint said.

“Good and strong.”

“Same thing. Beans are ready.”

He scooped them onto the plates, handed one to Travis with one of the two forks he always carried. Very often a fork came in much handier than a frying pan. He had broken up the beef jerky and heated it up with the beans.

“It looks to me like you're on the right trail,” Travis said.

“Thanks for the confirmation.”

“What are you gonna do when the trail runs out?” Travis asked.

“Deal with that when the time comes.”

“I can help with that.”

“Again,” Clint said, “why do you want to help me?”

“I have an interest in you.”

“Yeah, and we still haven't gotten to the bottom of that, have we?”

“We can deal with that later,” Travis said. “Why don't you just let me help you track these men down?”

“If I do that, I have to know that you can watch my back,” Clint said.

“I can do that.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Clint said, “show me what you can do with a gun. Then we'll talk.”

“You want me to target shoot?”

“For a start,” Clint said. “For now we better just finished eating and get some sleep. I want to get an early start.”

“Want to set a watch?”

“Why?” Clint asked. “Nobody's hunting us. Just get some sleep.”

“I'll do the dishes,” Travis said.

“Sure,” Clint said. “Right now, that's about all I know you can do.”

SEVENTEEN

In the morning they had coffee and jerky and got the horses ready.

“You wanted me to shoot some targets, didn't you?” Travis asked.

“Yeah,” Clint said, “pick something out.”

Travis looked off into the distance.

“Moving or stationary?”

“Stationary, to start.”

“How about that branch?”

Clint squinted.

“Where?”

“That cottonwood.”

“That's a hundred feet.”

“Yeah,” Travis said, “but I'm just using my hand gun, right?”

“Okay.”

Travis drew and fired without hesitation. The branch flew off the tree.

“Not bad.”

“And now it's your turn,” Travis said, holstering his gun firmly.

“I've got nothing to prove,” Clint said, “and replace that spent round before you holster your gun. That kind of carelessness can get you killed.”

Travis looked chagrined, but also angry—probably with himself. He drew the gun, ejected the spent shell, replaced it, and holstered it again.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“I am for now,” Clint said. “Let's start moving. But the time may come when you'll have to prove yourself again.”

“And I suppose you never have to prove yourself?” Travis asked.

“No,” Clint said. “You already know who I am.”

“And why not?”

Clint looked at him.

“Because you already know who I am,” he said, “don't you, Travis?”

They mounted up, located the trail again, and started to follow it.

 * * * 

Tom Barry led his gang into the small town of Bronson, in the lower portion of North Texas. It would take them days to get as far as Fort Worth. From there they could hop a train to anywhere, if necessary.

He reined his horse in and stopped before actually entering the town.

“Davis!”

“Yeah?”

“Ride back a ways, make sure there's no posse chasin' us,” Barry said.

“Aw, hell,” Davis said, “I was lookin' forward to gettin' my ashes hauled.”

“Your ashes will have to wait,” Barry said. “Ride back about ten miles. If you don't see anybody, come back and get your ashes hauled.”

“Okay,” Davis said. “I'll see you guys later.”

He turned his horse and rode back the way they had come. Barry started his horse forward and led his other men into Bronson.

“How long are we gonna stay here?” Hastings asked.

“Not long.”

“Long enough for a meal and a whore?” Irish O'Brien asked him.

“Yeah,” Barry said, “that long.”

“Long enough for Davis to catch up?” Kane asked.

Barry looked at Kane, then looked away and said, “Yeah, maybe.”