The Gunsmith 385 (9 page)

TWENTY-NINE

When they came out of the cell block, the sheriff asked, “Find out anything?” He was seated behind his desk.

“No, nothing,” Clint said, “but thanks for letting us talk to them.”

“No problem.”

“Sheriff, did you have any dealings with Tom Barry, or the other man?”

“No, by the time Stubbs told me who sent him after the two dead men, your man Barry was gone, and the other fella with him.”

“I see.”

“Sorry you didn't learn more,” Dalman said.

“That's okay,” Clint said. “Thanks.”

“You leavin' town now?”

“Right now,” Clint said. “You won't get any trouble from me.”

“Appreciate that,” the sheriff said.

They stepped outside and Travis asked, “You believe 'im?”

“Who? Stubbs, or the sheriff?”

“Both.”

“Yeah, I believe them,” Clint said. “Barry just found himself a hothead to take care of his problem for him.”

“And the sheriff?”

“He's got three killers in his jail,” Clint said. “I don't see that he has any reason to lie.”

“Then we're out of Waco?”

Clint nodded.

“We're out of here.”

 * * * 

Tom Barry and Tracy Hastings had left Waco the night before, in the wake of the killings. They had gone a good ten miles in the dark, and then made camp.

Hastings slept with one eye open. He knew Barry had to have something to do with the killing of Kane and O'Brien; he just didn't know what. As far as he knew, Barry was not acquainted with the men who did the killings.

By morning they had switched places, with Hastings on watch. Briefly he considered trying to kill Barry in his sleep, but there was always the chance the other man was also sleeping with one eye open. There was also the chance that Barry might decide to split the money with Hastings and maintain their partnership. After all, they had known each other a lot longer than either of them had known the other men.

But in all that time they'd known each other, Tom Barry had never revealed a soft spot for anyone or anything other than his own pocket.

Hastings smelled the coffee, went over, and nudged Barry with his toe.

“Coffee's ready,” he said.

Barry coughed, spat, rolled over, and got to his feet slowly.

“Gimme a cup!” he growled. He hawked and spat again.

Hastings poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him.

“Seems to me,” he said to Barry, “it's time to split the money.”

“That how it seems to you, Tracy?”

“Yeah.”

“Whatsamatta, you don't trust me no more?”

“The question should be, did I ever trust you, Tom?” Hastings said.

Tom Barry lowered the coffee cup and stared at the other man, who did not back down from his gaze, as other men had in the past.

“Tracy,” he said, “we gotta stick together. We still don't know if anybody's on our trail. If there is, we're better off watchin' each other's back. Let's just give it a little more time. Whataya say?”

Hastings studied Barry for a moment, then gave in.

“Yeah, okay, Tom,” he said. “Just a little longer.”

THIRTY

Clint and Travis left Waco, found the point where Tom Barry and Tracy Hastings had camped.

“They didn't get very far,” Travis said.

“Seems to me they left at night,” Clint said. “They probably just picked their way this far in the darkness and decided to camp rather than risk one of their horses breaking a leg.”

“Probably.”

Travis held his hand over the dead fire.

“Cold,” he said. “They're still half a day ahead, maybe more.”

“Heading for Fort Worth.”

Travis stood up.

“We should've left sooner.”

“We only took time for a meal and a telegram,” Clint said. “I needed to find out if Rick was still hanging in there.”

And he was. The doctor had replied almost instantly to his telegram that Rick Hartman was still alive.

“Come on,” Clint said. “If you're impatient, we should probably start moving a little faster.” He mounted up. “Now we'll find out how well your roan can keep up.”

 * * * 

By midday Travis's roan was winded from trying to keep up with Clint.

“You want to outrun me? Go ahead, but my horse needs a rest.” Travis dismounted.

“No problem,” Clint said. “We'll take a short rest.” He also dismounted.

Travis walked his roan to a nearby stream, and Clint followed. They allowed the horses to drink while they also drank from their canteens, and refilled them.

“You can go on ahead of me, you know,” Travis said. “I mean, if that was what you wanted to do. There's only two of them left. The odds have gotten a lot better.”

“Hey,” Clint said, “you've come this far with me. Besides, if I did ride on ahead, you'd just keep trailing me, right? Like you've been doing?”

“That's right.”

“There you go,” Clint said. “So just take a breath, and then we'll be on our way again.”

Clint went to work checking the cinch on Eclipse's saddle, and keeping the horse from drinking too much water.

Travis was checking each of his horse's hooves for debris that might injure or hinder the animal. Clint did the same.

“You know,” Travis said, “if this takes much longer, it seems like Tom Barry will take care of all the other men for us. We'll only have him to deal with.”

“If we catch him,” Clint said. “If he gets to Fort Worth, he could be gone.”

“Would you keep searching for him?”

“Yes.”

“No matter where you had to go?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He shot a friend of mine.”

“So you're takin' it personally?”

“You bet,” Clint said. “I don't have that many good friends that I can let it go.”

“Then we better push on to Fort Worth,” Travis said, “and stop tracking him.”

“Well,” Clint said, “he's going in that direction, but what if he's not actually going there? If we just ride straight there, we might lose him.”

“So you believe we should just keep on his trail?” Travis asked.

“Yes,” Clint said, “for now. It won't be that much farther. And if he veers off and goes someplace else, we'll know.”

Okay, then.” Travis mounted his roan, watched while Clint mounted Eclipse. “You know, there's another option.”

“What's that?”

“Push the horses, try to ride him down. Instead of following him to Fort Worth, or wherever he's going, catch up to him before he reaches his goal.”

Clint gave the suggestion some thought.

“What are you thinkin'?” Travis asked.

“Let's ride,” Clint said. “I'll tell you along the way.”

 * * * 

“I've been thinking,” Clint said, “about five men hitting a saloon.”

“Thinking what?”

“Why do it?”

“For the money.”

“If you want money, you hit a bank, not a saloon,” Clint said.

“You think there was another reason?”

“Must be.”

“And you want to find out what it is.”

“Yes.”

“So you think somebody sent them after your friend?” Travis asked. “That they were supposed to kill him?”

“That's what I want to find out.”

“So that's why we're followin' him and not tryin' to ride him down.”

“Right.”

“Well, thanks for tellin' me.”

“I've been busy convincing myself,” Clint said, “so I suppose we'll see when we get where we're all going.”

THIRTY-ONE

“You know what I'm still tryin' to figure?” Hastings asked Tom Barry.

“What?”

“Why you decided to hit that saloon.”

Barry gave Hastings a momentary glance, then looked straight ahead.

“I told you,” he said, “I figured there was some money there.”

“More than four thousand, right?”

“A lot more.”

Hastings fell silent.

“Why?” Barry asked. “What's your problem?”

Hastings hesitated, then said, “Your research is usually a lot better than that.”

“Everybody makes mistakes.”

“Not you, Tom,” Hastings said, “not unless you want to make a mistake.”

“Whataya gettin' at, Tracy?” Barry demanded.

“Nothin',” Hastings said, “I'm just wonderin', that's all.”

“Well, stop wonderin',” Barry said. “That's my advice to you.”

“Sure, Tom,” Hastings said, “whatever you say.”

 * * * 

They were ten miles from Fort Worth when Tom Barry suddenly changed direction.

Hastings noticed it, but did not speak until they had gone a few miles.

He reined in.

Barry continued on for a few yards before he stopped and turned.

“What's wrong?”

“Whataya mean, ‘what's wrong'?” Hastings asked. “We ain't headed for Fort Worth anymore, Tom, that's what's wrong.”

Barry rode back to stand beside Hastings.

“What's goin' on?” Hastings asked.

“You wanna go to Fort Worth, go ahead,” Barry said.

“I ain't sayin' that,” Hastings responded. “Just give me some idea what we're doin', Tom. Or if you're gonna try to kill me like the others, go ahead. Draw down. Do it now.”

Tom Barry stared at Hastings.

“I ain't gonna kill you, Tracy.”

“That's good to hear,” Hastings said, “but where the hell are we goin'?”

“Just follow me,” Barry said. “I'll tell you when we get there. How's that?”

Hastings hesitated.

“Just stick with me.”

“Yeah,” Hastings said after a moment, “okay. Go ahead, let's go.”

“You won't be sorry.”

They started off again and rode the rest of the way in silence.

 * * * 

They bypassed a town called Liberty, and Hastings didn't question Barry again. As they approached a ranch, Hastings had an idea of what was happening.

“This is a big spread,” he said.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Somebody who lives here has a lot of money.”

“Yeah, he does.”

“So that's it?” Hastings asked. “You got hired to do this?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“That's why you never seemed that upset about the four thousand,” Hastings said. “You're gettin' paid for this.”

“We're gettin' paid for this, Tracy,” Barry said. “There's two of us.”

“How much?”

“Wait and see, my friend,” Barry said. “Wait and see. Come in, the man is waitin'.”

THIRTY-TWO

“Here,” Travis said.

Clint rode up alongside the younger man and looked down at the ground.

“They changed direction here,” Travis said.

“So they're not going to Fort Worth.”

“Looks like it.”

“What are they up to?” Clint asked, looking off to the east, the direction they were now going.

“What town is that way?” Travis asked.

“Not sure,” Clint said. “I guess we'll just have to follow and find out.”

“They might be goin' to meet someone,” Travis said. “That would support what you've been thinking.”

“What I've been toying with,” Clint said.

“Your friend Hartman, does he have many enemies?” Travis asked.

“Everybody's got enemies,” Clint said, “and he's a businessman, so he probably has more than most.”

“Well,” Travis said, “could be somebody don't like the way he does business.”

“Could be,” Clint said.

Travis looked at the ground again.

“They're stayin' together,” he said, “so the odds are even.”

“Until they get where they're going,” Clint said, “then we don't have any idea of the odds.”

“But you're gonna let them get there, aren't you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well,” Travis said, “I guess there's no point in pushin' the horses anymore. We know where they
ain't
goin', and I'd say we're only a few hours behind them.”

“If we come to a town first,” Clint said, “we'll stop and see if they have a telegraph office.”

“Suit yourself,” Travis said. “You're callin' the play.”

“You can still ride on.”

Travis shook his head.

“I came this far,” he said, “might as well see it through the rest of the way.”

“All right,” Clint said, “but when this is over, I think I'm going to deserve the answer to a question.”

“Really?” Travis asked. “I'm helping you out, and you think you deserve somethin'?”

“I'm letting you ride with me,” Clint said.

“To watch your back,” Travis reminded him.

“Only I didn't ask for your help.”

Travis looked stubborn.

“Okay,” Clint said, “I guess we'll have to deal with this later.”

“I guess we will.”

 * * * 

As they rode up to the large house, several men in a corral stopped what they were doing to watch them.

“You know them fellas?” Hastings asked.

“Nope.”

“But you're expected here, right?”

“That's right,” Barry said. “Don't worry, we won't have no trouble here.”

“I'm always expecting trouble, Tom,” Hastings said. “You know that.”

“I do,” Barry said. “That's what I like about you, Tracy. You're always ready.”

They stopped their horses in front of the house and dismounted.

Barry started up the steps to the front door and Hastings asked, “What about the horses?”

Barry gestured toward the men in the corral and said, “They'll take care of them.”

Hastings wasn't so sure, but he followed Barry up the steps anyway. He almost expected Barry to just open the door and go right in, but he knocked.

The door was opened by an old man, wearing old jeans and a shirt buttoned all the way to the neck.

“It's about time,” he groused.

“Is he here?” Barry asked.

“Of course he is,” the old man said. He looked past Barry and scowled at Hastings. “Who's this?”

“My partner.”

“Didn't know you had a partner.”

“Well, I do. Can we come in?”

“Come ahead,” the man said, backing away.

As they went past him, Hastings got a close-up look. He thought the man's skin looked as if he'd just spent a week in the desert. He was surprised the skin didn't crack.

The old man closed the door and then turned to face them.

“Wait here,” he said. “I'll tell him you're here.”

“Okay.”

As the man walked away, Hastings said, “Who's that?”

“That's Dad,” Barry said.

“Your dad?”

“No,” Barry said, “just Dad. That's what everybody around here calls him.”

“But . . . is he somebody's dad?”

“Shit, I don't know, Tracy,” Barry said. “That question ain't really important, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“Well, why don't we save our breath for the important questions, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, Tom,” Hastings said. “Okay.”

“Relax,” Barry said. “You're about to get the answers to all your questions.”