Read The Gunsmith 386 Online

Authors: J. R. Roberts

The Gunsmith 386 (12 page)

BOOK: The Gunsmith 386
7.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
THIRTY-SEVEN

Clint had Jake show him where Mr. Clement's house was.

“Okay,” he said, handing the old man the whiskey bottle, “you can go.”

“Thanks, mister,” Jake said. “I hope you get your horse back.”

“Don't worry,” Clint said, “I will.”

Jake scurried off to finish his bottle, hugging it close to his body.

Clint stared at the two-story house, with four white pillars in front. If Jake hadn't been completely drunk and had remembered accurately, Eclipse might be behind it. Also, Dunn and Sands might be inside.

He had told Cain not to do anything until they were together, but he felt that he had to determine whether or not Eclipse was actually there.

He looked around. The area was very quiet, with no foot traffic. People would probably start returning home from work, but he still had some time before that happened.

There was a fence around the front of the house, but rather than opening the gate—many gates squeaked—he skirted the fence to get to the side of the house, then moved along the wall to the back.

He peered around to see if anyone was there. The only thing he saw was what looked like a carriage house—something you usually found in the East, not the West.

Keeping an eye on the house, he made his way to the carriage house. The door was locked. He might have gotten in by shooting the lock, but that would have alerted whoever was in the house. He moved to the side of the building 'til he found a window, and looked in.

And there he was.

Eclipse.

“Hey, big boy,” Clint said to himself. The horse looked all right. He was tied, but he had a feed bin nearby and didn't look any worse for wear.

At least Clint knew the horse was safe.

Keeping a wary eye on the house, he made his way back to the street, hopefully without having been seen from the inside.

 • • • 

Cain left the whorehouse on weakened legs. Those whores would not let him out of that room—hell, out of that bed—until they had each sampled what was between his legs. And then they wanted to be paid! Well, he paid them, and then got the information Molly had promised him. He remembered with a sigh just how he got it . . .

“I heard them talkin' about a house they were stayin' at in the high-priced part of town,” Molly said.

“That's it?” Cain asked.

She shrugged, which made her breasts jiggle, and said, “That's all I heard.”

She was lying on the bed, naked, her limbs entwined with those of her naked girlfriends. Her flesh was darker, while the blonde was pale and the redhead freckled. Seeing the three naked women there, he couldn't get mad. At least Molly had given them a place to look, even if her information was kind of spare.

“Are you gonna come back, honey?” the redhead asked.

“If I can,” he said, “before I have to leave town.”

“You got to come back, spend more time,” the blonde said.

“Come on,” Molly said, “promise.”

“No,” he said, “I will not promise!”

“Don't be mad,” Molly told him with a pout. “I told you what I know.”

“Yeah, you did,” he said.

She smiled at him and said, “You didn't really think all I wanted to do was look, did you?”

The three girls were laughing as he went out the door . . .

 • • • 

Now, on the street, Cain made his way back to the hotel to meet with Clint.

The girl Molly had bamboozled him, and got him to her room upstairs. She got him into bed so the other girls could come in later. He couldn't be mad because three whores wanted to get him into bed. But while he had a grin on his face as he walked away, this sure wasn't something he was going to tell Clint Adams about.

THIRTY-EIGHT

This time, instead of waiting for Cain in the lobby, Clint waited in his room. He left the door unlocked, and Cain walked right in.

“Got it,” he said. “A big house somewhere in town—”

“I know,” Clint said. “I found it.”

“A house?” Cain asked. “A rich man's house?”

Clint nodded and said, “I saw Eclipse. He's locked in a carriage house in the back.”

“What about the two men?”

“I didn't see them,” Clint said. “They might have been in the house.”

“So what do we do now?” Cain asked. “Go to the house and knock on the door?”

“We don't know what we'd be walking into,” Clint said. “They think they have the upper hand because they have Eclipse.”

“Then,” Cain said, “let's go and take your horse back.”

“My thought exactly.”

 • • • 

“It's gonna be dark soon,” Sands said to Dunn.

“So?”

“I don't think he's comin' 'til maybe tomorrow.”

“He might already be in town,” Dunn said.

“You think he slipped in without us seein' him?” Sands asked. “We been watchin' the street.”

“He didn't have to use the street,” Dunn said. “There are other ways to get into town.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We get ready,” Dunn said.

“Back at the house?”

“Yeah,” Dunn said. “We better dig in.”

“How will we know if he's here?”

“We'll have Clement send some men out to find out,” Dunn said.

“He's gonna have to pay 'em.”

“He's got men workin' for him already,” Dunn said. “Don't worry. We'll find out if Adams is in town.” Dunn finished his drink and said, “Let's go.”

They left the saloon, where they had been sitting all day long. As they went out the door, the bartender breathed a sigh of relief.

 • • • 

“After dark,” Clint said, looking out the window. “We'll go and get him after dark. But we'll need something to take care of that lock.”

“I'll tear it open,” Cain said.

“I know you're strong, but a padlock?”

Cain grinned. “Don't worry, my friend.”

 • • • 

When Dunn and Sands entered Brock Clement's house, their host was sitting at the dining room table, having dinner.

“Just in time, gents,” he said. “Pull up a chair and have something to eat.”

“Hey, great—” Sands started.

“After you clean up, that is,” Clement added with a grin on his handsome face.

Dunn grinned back.

“Yeah, okay.” He looked at Sands. “Let's get cleaned up.”

 • • • 

When they returned to the dining room, there were two other places set at the table. Dunn and Sands sat across from each other, with Clement at the head of the table.

“Help yourselves, boys,” their host said.

There were platters on the table with fried chicken, vegetables, and fresh biscuits.

“You eat like this all the time?” Sands asked, jabbing a huge chicken breast with his fork and transferring it to his plate.

“Oh yes,” Clement said, “all the time.”

“You're a young fella,” Sands said. “How'd you get so much money so young?”

“I'm thirty-five,” Clement said. “I just look younger. Some of the money I inherited, some of it I made myself.”

“That's enough, Sands,” Dunn said. “Brock is our host. He doesn't have to answer so many questions.”

“May I ask some?” Clement said.

“Sure.” Dunn speared a chicken leg, filled his plate with vegetables.

“Is the Gunsmith in town yet?”

“We don't know,” Dunn said. “We haven't seen him, so we're gonna need your help findin' out.”

“How can I help?”

“Send some of your people into town to have a look around,” Dunn said with his mouth full. “Hotels, saloons. See if they spot the Gunsmith.”

“I'll need a description.”

“I'll give you one after dinner.”

Clement took a deep breath.

“You know,” he said to Dunn, “when you saved my life, I knew I'd be in your debt, but somehow I thought you were going to ask for money.”

“If I had asked for money, would you have gave it to me?” Dunn asked.

“Of course.”

Dunn looked at Sands, who shrugged, wondering why Dunn had not asked for money. He would have if he'd had a rich man in his debt.

“Well,” Dunn said, “maybe later. Right now we just need a place to stay, and some help.”

“And what about the horse in my carriage house?”

“What the hell is a carriage house anyway?” Sands asked.

Clement looked at him.

“Usually a place where you keep a carriage. That's why I have one in there.”

Sands fell silent, feeling like he'd been told he was stupid. He wouldn't have taken it, except that they were Clement's guests, he was helping them, so Sands had to keep his mouth shut.

“We'll just keep the horse there,” Dunn said, “but I think in the morning we should start putting a man in there with him.”

“Tell them to keep clear,” Sands said, holding up his bandaged hand.

“I'll remind them,” Clement said. He looked at Dunn. “After this, we are even, Adam?”

“Even, Brock,” Dunn said.

“Good,” Clement said. “I don't want to have to worry about you constantly showing up.”

Dunn put his silverware down with a loud clang.

“Have I asked you for anythin' before this?”

“No, but—”

“So stop complainin', Brock,” Dunn said. “This is the one and only time you'll see me, and I don't need any of your money.”

“Yes, all right,” Clement said. “Forgive me, Adam. I meant no offense.”

Dunn picked up his utensils and went back to the meal.

THIRTY-NINE

Clint and Cain moved through the darkness, skirting the house so as not to be caught in any of the light coming from the windows.

“They don't have anybody on watch?” Cain asked.

“Not that I could see this afternoon,” Clint said. “We have to do this before that changes, though.”

“I am going to be very interested in the motive behind all of this,” Cain admitted.

“So am I,” Clint said. Although, since it had been happening more and more lately, he thought that it might just be a case of his past popping up to bite him on the ass . . . again!

They reached the carriage house and Cain saw the lock on the front doors.

“Is there a back door?” he asked.

“Let's look.”

They went by the window Clint had looked in earlier in the day. It was pitch black inside, so they couldn't see anything. Clint hoped his trusted Darley Arabian was still inside.

They got around to the back, found another pair of double doors similarly locked with a padlock. This one, however, seemed a bit flimsier, and a little rusted.

“Ah,” Cain said. He took out his knife and, using the blade and his brute strength, snapped the lock in no time, with almost no noise.

They opened the doors slowly, just in case the hinges creaked, but there was no danger of that. They paused in the doorway to let their eyes adjust to the darkness. The first thing they saw was the carriage in the center of the room. Movement off to one side drew their eyes, and there was Eclipse, staring balefully at Clint as if asking, “What took you so long?”

“Hey, big fella,” Clint whispered.

“What?” Cain said.

“Not you,” Clint said, “him.”

Clint walked to Eclipse and patted his neck and nose, then untied the reins that were holding him.

“What now?” Cain asked.

“Let's get him out of here,” Clint said. “Once we get him somewhere safe, we're in a much better position in any showdown.”

“Let's get out of here, then.”

They walked the big horse out the back door, then had to decide which way to go. Should they take the chance of walking him right by the house?

“Let's circle around back here,” Clint suggested. “Then we can walk him by one of the other houses to get to the road.”

“Agreed,” Cain said.

That's what they did. They walked the horse across several backyards, then turned and walked him to the road, going by a house that was completely dark. Just when they thought they were home free, though, a light went on in front of the house and a voice called out, “Who's out there?”

They turned and saw an old woman standing on the porch. She was wearing a cotton housedress, and holding an old but mean-looking shotgun.

“Just walking my horse, ma'am,” Clint said to her.

“In my yard, young man?” she said. “What do you take me for? Who's that with you?”

“Just my friend.”

“He's a big one,” she said.

“My friend, or my horse?” Clint asked.

“Both.”

“Ma'am,” Cain said, “we were just walking by.”

She squinted at them.

“A couple of these houses have been robbed lately,” she told them.

“That's terrible, ma'am,” Clint said, “but I assure you, we're not robbers. We were just walking.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Well, I'll be talking to the sheriff in the morning.”

“That's fine, ma'am,” Clint said. “You do that.”

She gestured with the shotgun barrel and said, “Now get the hell off my property.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Clint said. “Our pleasure.”

He led Eclipse out of the woman's yard and onto the street, followed by Cain, who was waiting to hear the old woman cock her shotgun.

The sound never came.

FORTY

They picked up their other horses from in front and in back of the hotel then walked all three to a livery stable. They had to knock on the doors to get in, but soon enough a man swung them open and said, “It's the middle of the night.”

“We've got three horses for you to take care of,” Clint said, “and we'll pay double.”

The man swung the doors wide open and said, “Come on in, then. Wow, that's a big one.”

Clint had decided not to take the horses to the livery where old Jake worked. He just didn't have any confidence in the old drunk to take proper care of them. This man was younger, though by no means a youngster. At least he was sober.

They waited while the man took all three horses to their stalls, then when he came back, Clint handed him some money.

“How long?” the man asked, looking at the money in his hand.

“Hopefully,” Clint said, “one day.”

“This is more than double, then.”

“Keep it,” Clint said. “Take real good care of them, especially the big one.”

“You bet,” the man said.

“And if anyone else knocks tonight,” Clint said, “don't answer the door.”

“Fine with me,” the man said. “I was asleep anyway.”

They left, waited for the man to close the double doors and lock them before moving off.

 • • • 

“Check on the horse,” Dunn told Sands.

“Again?”

“Just do it!”

Sands got up from the table and left the room.

Clement poured himself some more wine.

“When do you think this little matter will wrap up?” he asked Dunn.

“I hope tomorrow,” Dunn said.

“Is he reliable?” Clement asked, jerking his chin toward Sands's vacated chair.

“Reliable enough.”

“We haven't talked about it, but this is a job, right?” Clement asked. “Not something personal?”

“It started out as a job,” Dunn said. “It's still somethin' I'm gettin' paid for, but now it's become personal.”

“Because it's been so difficult to kill him?”

Dunn nodded.

“A man like that, I suppose he's been through this many times,” Clement said.

“Well,” Dunn said, “I hope this'll be the last time.”

Just at the moment Dunn spoke, Sands came running in from the back door.

“He's gone!”

“What?”

“The horse is gone,” Sands said. “The back door is open. The lock's broke.”

“That rear lock was kind of rusty,” Clement admitted. “Maybe the horse kicked the door?”

“Maybe,” Dunn said, standing up, “or maybe somebody came and got 'im. Come on, let's look around.”

He and Sands went out the back door.

 • • • 

Clint suggested they stop at a saloon.

“Why?” Cain asked. “Let's just go back to the house.”

“Come on,” Clint said, “I'll tell you my thinking over a beer.”

“Well, I could use a beer,” the big half-breed said. In fact, he'd been feeling that way ever since he left the whorehouse.

They stopped in the first saloon they came to. It was well lit, half full, probably because it offered no gambling. There was only one girl working the floor, and she looked exhausted. There were three men at the bar. Clint and Cain took up a position at a far end, where they wouldn't be overheard.

“Two beers,” Clint said, waving at the bored-looking bartender. The man reacted immediately and set two full mugs in front of them.

“Okay,” Cain said after drinking half his beer down gratefully, “what is on your mind?”

“I'm wondering what they will do when they discover Eclipse missing. That lock was rusty. They might just think he kicked the door open.”

“Or,” Cain said, “they'll think you were here.”

“Right.”

“Might make them nervous.”

“Right again.”

“So we stand here and nurse a couple of beers and let them sweat.”

“My thinking exactly.”

 • • • 

Dunn and Sands checked the floor in the carriage house, Dunn holding a lamp high.

“Footprints,” he said, pointing.

“Could be ours,” Sands said.

Dunn pointed down.

“That's a big man's foot.”

“Not the Gunsmith's?”

“I doubt it,” Dunn said, “but there are two sets here.”

“Then he's here,” Sands said, “and he has help. And we don't have his horse anymore.”

Dunn moved the lamp, looked at the broken lock, then checked the door.

“No chance the horse kicked it open?”

“There's always a chance,” Dunn said. “Come on, let's follow these tracks.”

Using the lamp, they followed the tracks. It was helpful that the horse's tracks were so big, as were those made by one of the men. Even in the lamplight, they were able to follow.

They were walking by a darkened house toward the main road when a light came on and a voice called out.

“Stand still!”

They stopped, looked up onto the porch at the old woman holding a shotgun.

“Goddamnit!” she said. “Too many damn people walkin' around in the dark tonight.” She squinted. “You ain't the same men.”

“Which men, ma'am?” Dunn asked.

“Why should I answer your questions?”

“Well, we're guests of one of your neighbors, Mr. Clement,” Dunn said.

“I know Clement,” she said. “Don't like him.”

“His house was robbed, and we're tryin' to figure out who did it.”

“Robbed, huh?” she said. “They tol' me they wasn't robbers.”

“Who told you that, ma'am?”

“Them men with the horse.”

Dunn looked at Sands.

“Can you describe them?” Dunn asked.

“Only one. He was a big fella. And the horse. He was a big one, too.”

“Do you know where they went?”

“I don't know,” she said, “and I don't give a damn. I tol' them to get off my land, and I'm tellin' you the same thing.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Dunn said. “Thanks for your help.”

They walked to the road, at which time she went back inside and the light went out.

“Let's get back to Clement's house,” Dunn said. They began to walk along the road.

“She didn't describe Adams,” Sands said.

“She couldn't describe the second man,” Dunn said. “It was him, all right. Goddamn, I really wanna kill him!”

“We're gonna need help.”

“We've got it.”

“Your friend Clement?” Sands asked. “He's gonna help us kill a man?”

“He owes me big,” Dunn said.

“Yeah, about that,” Sands said. “You never did tell me the whole story.”

“That's right,” Dunn said. “I never did.”

He didn't say anything else after that, so they continued on to the Clement house in silence.

BOOK: The Gunsmith 386
7.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Eighth-Grade Superzero by Olugbemisola Rhuday Perkovich
Elena by Thomas H. Cook
Pirate's Price by Aubrey Ross
Nurjahan's Daughter by Podder, Tanushree
Hockey Dreams by David Adams Richards
Carnival by J. Robert Janes
Mixing With Murder by Ann Granger
Tres manos en la fuente by Lindsey Davis