The Gunsmith 386 (10 page)

They had a drink in the saloon, where they were watched warily the entire time by the other patrons. However, Clint knew they were being watched because of Cain's sheer size and appearance. He looked like a man who would tear you apart with his bare hands just as soon as look at you.

They had one beer each, and then left.

“That didn't bother you?” Cain asked.

Clint knew what he was referring to.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “I was glad to have you around, have them look at you instead of me for a change.”

“That's right,” Cain said, “you are the Gunsmith. You have probably been stared at longer than I have.”

“Well, not from birth,” Clint said.

“But you are older than I am.”

“Okay,” Clint said, “I'll concede both points.”

They walked to the hotel without incident, past the clerk—who nodded to them—and up to their floor.

“Still don't think we're being watched?” Clint asked.

“No.”

“Me neither,” Clint said, “but we can't be too careful.”

They went to the door of Cain's room and opened it quickly. It was empty. They then did the same thing with Clint's room, and got the same result.

Then they turned in for the night.

 • • • 

Early the next morning they met in the lobby. The same clerk was there, looking sleepy. He had either just gotten up, or hadn't been to sleep yet.

When they got to the livery, their horses were saddled and waiting for them.

“You said you'd be leavin' early,” the man reminded them.

Clint paid him and they mounted up.

“I hope you find your horse,” the liveryman said.

“So do I,” Clint responded.

 • • • 

They rode out of town, and the big half-breed picked up their trail again.

“Still two horses, leading one—yours. And he's moving well.”

“You can tell that?”

“I would be able to tell if he was limping.”

“That's good to know.”

They continued on.

 • • • 

Derrick Sands entered the saloon and sat down across from Adam Dunn.

“Nothin'?” Dunn asked.

“No telegram.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dunn said, shaking his head, “money can't buy good help, can it?”

“So what do we do now?”

“Well, we still have his horse.”

“So?”

Dunn looked across at his colleague.

“We'll have to kill him ourselves.”

“We tried that, remember?” Sands asked. “Larry got killed and we ran.”

“No more runnin' this time.”

“So what do we do? Ambush him again?”

“Yeah,” Dunn said, “but remember, this time we have somethin' he wants.”

“So how do we get him here?”

“I think we just have to wait,” Dunn said. “He'll track us right here.”

“And we're just gonna wait?”

“We're gonna wait,” Dunn said, “and send a telegram.”

 • • • 

Cain stopped, and Clint reined in beside him. Up ahead of them was a town.

“Kerrville,” Cain said.

“Been here before?” Clint asked.

“Passed through once. You?”

“Nope. First time.”

“How do you want to do this?” Cain asked. “Ride right down Main Street?”

“Not me,” Clint said. “You.”

 • • • 

Clint decided that Cain should ride into town alone. Yes, he'd attract attention, but that was only because of who he was and what he looked like. Neither Dunn nor Sands would suspect that he was riding with Clint Adams. They arranged to meet later at a hotel in town. Clint told Cain to get a room in the largest one, if there was, indeed, more than one hotel.

Clint had to slip into town another way. It was too early, though, for him to wait until after dark. That would waste a lot of the day that was left.

Kerrville was a lot larger than either Hooper, or Kirby, or even Orwell, probably even larger than Hastings. There were any number of other points of entry he could use other than the main street. Getting into town unseen would not be a problem, especially if he did it while Cain was riding in and most of the town's eyes were on him.

So he waited until Cain and his Appaloosa were almost in town before riding around to find another way in.

Cain rode into town, attracting at least as much attention as he usually did. He and his Appaloosa made an arresting sight together.

Clint managed to work his way around the center of town, and he ended up behind a large, two-story building, hoping that it was a hotel. It turned out he was right. He tied off the steeldust, then walked around to the front and entered. Cain's horse was secured out front, so it was no surprise to find the half-breed in the lobby.

The desk clerk, a meek little man in his forties, was watching Cain with wide eyes, as if he expected the half-breed to suddenly produce a tomahawk and start cutting people down. There were a few men and a couple of ladies in the lobby who were skirting around the big man, who was simply standing in the center of the floor.

“Where is your horse?” Cain asked Clint.

“Out back. He can stay there awhile.”

“Do you want to get a room?”

“Let's find out if Dunn and Sands are here first.” He approached the clerk.

“Y-Yes, sir?”

“I'm looking for two friends of mine named Dunn and Sands. Are they registered?”

The clerk looked at the register, then said, “N-No, sir, they're not registered here.”

“How many other hotels in town?”

“Three,” the man said.

“And boardinghouses?”

“Yes, sir, two.”

“Good,” Clint said, “tell me where they all are . . .”

 • • • 

They stepped outside the hotel, to the relief of the desk clerk.

“In Hastings, Sands stayed in a boardinghouse,” Clint said. “Let's try those first.”

“What about the sheriff?”

“Let's try this ourselves first,” Clint said. “The fewer people we include, the better.”

“Up to you,” Cain said.

“I'll walk ahead,” Clint said. “You'll keep the attention off me by walking alone.”

“All right.”

“Try to look mean,” Clint said, and walked ahead before Cain could respond.

 • • • 

Derrick Sands was standing at the batwing doors of the Tall Texas Saloon.

“Anythin'?” Dunn asked when Sands came back to the table.

“Big half-breed rode into town,” Sands said, sitting down, “but that's all.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Know him?”

“Why should I?”

“Maybe you seen him in Hastings?”

Sands shook his head. “Never did.”

“Go and check on the horse.”

“Check for what?”

“Just make sure it's still where we put it,” Dunn said, “and it's okay.”

Sands held up his bandaged left hand and said, “Ya want me to let him take another hunk outta me?”

“Just be careful with him,” Dunn said.

“Say,” Sands said, “you ain't thinkin' of keepin' that horse, are ya?”

“Once Adams is dead, what's the difference?”

“We wuz talkin' about the good price we could get for him,” Sands reminded him.

“Don't worry about it, Sands,” Dunn said. “You're gonna get paid enough for this job.”

“What's this feller got against the Gunsmith anyway?” Sands asked.

“I didn't ask,” Dunn said, “but maybe Adams killed somebody close to him. It don't matter. We're gettin' paid to do a job.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sands said, standing up. “I'll go check on that big devil.”

Devil, Dunn thought. Maybe when Adams was dead, he'd change the horse's name.

 • • • 

When Clint reached the first boardinghouse, he waited for Cain to catch up. The lady who answered the door was obviously frightened by the big half-breed. She answered their questions—no boarders by those names or descriptions—very quickly and slammed the door in their faces.

“Maybe at the next one,” Cain said, “I should just stand back.”

“I agree,” Clint said.

“Also,” Cain said, “I think we will want to check the whorehouses.”

“Good point,” Clint said. “Why don't we split up? Whores are used to men of all sizes and shapes. I don't think you'll scare them. You'll probably interest them.”

“Well,” Cain admitted, “whores interest me.”

“I'll check the other boardinghouse, and the hotels, and meet you back at the first hotel where we left our horses.”

Cain nodded his agreement.

“If you find them, don't brace them,” Clint said. “Just come and find me.”

“Don't worry,” Cain said, “I won't rob you of the pleasure of killing them yourself.”

“Thanks,” Clint said.

They split up from here.

Clint walked away from the second boardinghouse, having gotten the same answers he'd gotten at the first one, this time without having a door slammed in his face.

If Dunn and Sands were not waiting for him, they would be registered somewhere. If not a boardinghouse, then a hotel. But if, by now, they assumed Clint had not been killed, and they were expecting him, would they be hiding? Or would they position themselves where he could see them?

Like in a saloon?

He decided to check the other hotels before going to the saloons.

 • • • 

Cain walked into the town's one whorehouse, and some of the girls were immediately drawn to him.

“You're lookin' for me, honey,” a blonde said.

“I'm the one you want, baby,” a brunette said.

“Like redheads, honey?” a third asked.

Cain would have liked to take all three upstairs with him, but before he could say anything, an older woman spilling out of her nightgown came up behind the girls and clapped her hands. The flesh of her arms jiggled as she did it.

“Now, girls,” she said, “you know we don't crowd the customers as they come in. Get into the parlor with the others.”

The three girls all whispered their names to him before they obeyed.

“You're a big one,” she said to Cain. “My girls are gonna have to work hard to satisfy you.”

“I am looking for two men.”

“That's disappointing. Sorry, honey,” she said, “we only have girls here, no men.”

“I mean,” he said, “I am trying to find two men who may have come here.”

“Friends of yours?”

“Yes,” he said, “they are called—”

She waved him off and said, “I don't bother with names myself. Maybe one of the girls will know. But you can describe them to me.”

He did, giving her the descriptions Clint had given him.

“That could be anybody,” she said. “Why don't you go into the parlor, talk to some of the girls, and then maybe pick one or two that you like and take them upstairs?”

“I will talk to them.”

He went into the parlor and the girls mobbed him again. They were all powdered and perfumed and falling out of their nighties, and his head swam with the scent of them and the sight of their smooth skin.

But he wasn't there to enjoy their charms. He picked out two or three, took them to a sofa with them, and asked his questions.

 • • • 

Clint tried the hotels with no luck and wondered what was taking Cain so long. Maybe he'd found a girl or two he liked and decided to sample their wares? Clint doubted the big half-breed would do that before they were finished with their hunt.

After the boardinghouses and the hotels, Clint had the saloons left. But walking into a saloon might be walking right into a trap. If he'd learned nothing else in Orwell, he had learned that.

He decided to check the livery stables instead, see if anyone had laid eyes on Eclipse. That was something people would remember.

 • • • 

Cain sat with one girl in his lap, and one on either side of him. The little redhead in his lap was rubbing her butt against the huge bulge in his pants, all excited. The other girls were letting their breasts loose from their nightgowns, rubbing them on his arms and chest, or placing them in his big hands.

The usually stolid half-breed was sweating. He had a weakness for women—preferably young ones with red or blond hair, and two of these qualified.

“Come on, honey,” the redhead said into his ear, while squirming around in his lap, rubbing him with her neat little bottom. “Take me upstairs and ride me hard.”

“Another time,” he said.

“Soon?” she asked.

“I promise,” he said. “Very soon.”

“Me, too?” the blonde asked.

“Yes, you, too.”

The brunette had sensed his lack of interest in her and had slipped away.

“But tell me, have either of you seen the men I'm talking about?”

The little blonde frowned.

“What are their names again?”

“Dunn and Sands.”

“Sands,” the redhead said. “I think Molly said somethin' about two fellas who came in. Maybe she knows.”

“Which one is Molly?”

“You relax, honey,” the blonde said. “I'll get 'er.”

As the blonde slipped away from them, the redhead slid her hand into his crotch and grabbed him.

“Oh, my God,” she said, “are you sure—”

“Yes,” he said, “believe me, I am sure.”

She stroked him, kissed his neck, and said, “Too bad. I ain't never been with a man as big as you.”

“I promise,” he said, his mouth very dry, “soon.”

 • • • 

“I seen a horse like that.”

Clint was talking to a man who worked in a small livery stable near the hotel.

“When?”

The man rubbed his jaw and said, “Earlier today. I remember wishing they had brought it here to me.”

“Where did you see it?”

“Somewhere in town,” the old man said. He took off his hat and scratched his balding head. “My memory ain't as good as it used to be. Maybe it was last week?”

“Look,” Clint said, “just relax and think, old-timer. This is important. Where did you see that horse?”

 • • • 

The blonde brought Molly over, a young and energetic girl with short, dark hair.

“This is Molly.”

“Wow, big boy,” she said, “you can handle the three of us, can't you?”

“I will,” he said, “I will come back and do that. These girls told me you saw the two men I'm looking for.”

“What men?”

“Sands and Dunn.”

She frowned.

“What do they look like?”

He described them while struggling against the redhead's groping hand.

“I did see them,” Molly said. “In fact, one of them took me upstairs.”

Cain put his hands under the redhead's butt, lifted her off his lap, and set her aside.

“Tell me,” he said to Molly, “when.”