The Hunt for Clint Adams (13 page)

“And what if he goes north, into Montana?” Tarver asked.

“I don't know,” Dexter said. “What if he does? This is your hunt, not mine. Do we wait for him, or chase him?”

“Relax,” Tarver said. “Your boys said in the telegram he was headin' south.”

“So what're we gonna do?” Dexter asked.

Tarver pushed his plate of now-cold eggs away and sat back. The others continued to eat. They didn't particularly care what the outcome of the conversation between Tarver and Dexter was; they were getting paid either way.

“I think,” Tarver said, “we've kept Mr. Adams waitin' long enough. Time to put an end to his little hunt.”

It didn't feel like a hunt to Dexter; it felt more like a waste of time. But they had been lining their pockets pretty good since Tarver got out of Yuma. He had put away enough money to last a while—though not as much as he would've made if Tarver hadn't botched that last job that got him sent to prison in the first place. Dexter had stood to make twenty grand, which he was sure Tarver was on his way to stealing when he'd been caught by Adams.

Time for both of their hunts to end.

Clint rode out of Denver the next day. He was sorry he didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Jane, but he didn't want to endanger her any further. He decided when he got near a telegraph office he'd send her a telegram explaining. He hoped she would understand. Besides, their one night together was never meant to be anything more than that—one night.

He'd decided to head south, down through Colorado Springs, on to Trinidad, and then into New Mexico.

Castle Rock was on the way.

 

“Trinidad?” Dexter asked. “Why Trinidad?”

“Word will get around from there,” Tarver said. “In Castle Rock it'll just get buried.”

“What's wrong with Colorado Springs?” Dexter asked.

“I don't like Colorado Springs,” Tarver said. “It don't feel right to me.”

They were on the trail, having left Castle Rock under Dexter's objections.

“Then why didn't we leave word back in Castle Rock?” Dexter asked. “Tell him that's where you'd be?”

“We did, Dexter,” Tarver said. “We did.”

When Clint rode into Castle Rock he was surprised to see they had a telegraph office. He decided to stop there and send a telegram to Jane. He reined in Eclipse in front of the office and dismounted.

 

“I gotta admit,” Bobby said. “Tarver's good.”

“How good does he have to be?” Tom asked. “We stay ahead of Adams, stop in every town, wait to see if he'll stop. If he doesn't then we move on ahead of him again, and do the same thing.”

“That way we follow Adams, but not from behind,” Bobby said. “You didn't think of it.”

They watched as Clint Adams went into the telegraph office.

“I wonder who he's sending a telegram to?” Bobby said.

“Why does that even matter?” Tom asked. “We should just take him when he comes out.”

“When did you become the impatient one?” Bobby asked.

“When did you get to be so patient?” Tom complained.

The two men stood in the doorway, staring at the front of the telegraph office.

“Are you goin'?” Bobby asked. “I'd do it, but I can't write so good.”

“I'm goin',” Tom said.

Clint finished his short telegram to Jane. Since he didn't know her address, he had to send it to the Wellington Hotel, which meant somebody else would probably read it. And that meant it had to be fairly innocent, but still get his point across. He hoped she'd be able to read between the lines.

When he got back to his horse he saw a piece of paper sticking out of his saddlebags. When he pulled it out he saw it was a note in a scrawling handwriting.

It read: TARVER IS WAITING FOR YOU IN TRINIDAD.

He knew he was being watched, so he crumpled the note into a ball, dropped it into the street, mounted up, and rode out. Whoever was watching, he didn't want them to think the note had any affect on him.

“What the hell?” Bobby said. “That's it? He just threw it away and rides out?”

“He knows he's bein' watched,” Tom said. “Come on, let's get to our horses.”

“Where are we goin'?” Bobby asked.

“Colorado Springs,” Tom said. “We gotta get there before he does.”

“And then what?”

“And then we'll see if he heads east to Limon, or keeps going south to Trinidad.”

“You don't think he's goin' to Trinidad, do ya? Not after the way he crumpled that note.”

“I told you,” Tom said, “he knew he was bein' watched. That's the only reason he did it.”

“Yeah, well I hope you're right,” Bobby said. “I hope we all end up in Trinidad. I want some of that money Tarver's been savin' for us.”

Clint reined in just outside of town. Nobody had been following him, he'd been sure of that. At least, not from behind. That meant they had probably been leading him, and now—by use of the note—they were herding him to Trinidad, where Tarver would supposedly be.

He looked behind him, then ahead of him. He had left town first. If they were going to continue to “follow” him by leading, they'd have to ride hard. If he rode Eclipse hard they wouldn't be able to get in front of him. And he might be able to get himself into position to see who they were.

“Okay, big boy,” he said to Eclipse, “Let's ride hard for a while.”

 

Bobby and Tom rode fast for a few hours, then reined their horses in and looked behind them. They waited a good hour, but there was no sign of Clint Adams.

“Where the hell is he?” Bobby asked.

“I don't know,” Tom said. “He couldn't have gotten that far ahead of us . . . could he?”

“I don't think so,” Bobby said. “ ' course, that horse of his . . .”

“Yeah,” Tom said, “if he ran him—”

“—that'd mean he knew—”

“—all about you fellows,” Clint said from behind them.

Both men froze, then instinctively grabbed for their guns.

“That'd be a bad idea!” Clint yelled. “Mine's already in my hand.”

The two men looked at each other.

“We can take 'im,” Bobby said.

Tom shook his head.

“Don't try it,” Clint said. “I just want to talk.”

Tom could see on his friend's face that the idiot was going to try something.

“Bobby—” he said, but it was too late.

Bobby grabbed his gun and started to turn. Clint had no choice but to kill him, and he did it with one shot.

Tom half turned, but kept his hands away from his gun. He looked down at his partner—or former partner.

“You want to try?” Clint asked.

“No, no,” Tom said. “Not me.”

“Take out your gun and toss it—use two fingers.”

Tom plucked his gun from his holster and tossed it away from him.

“Now talk,” Clint said. “You two have been on me for weeks, right?”

“Yessir.”

“For Tarver?”

“Yes.”

“And is he really in Trinidad?”

“H-he will be.”

“So you left me that note.”

“Yes.”

“What's Tarver been doing while you two have been dogging me?”

“Pulling jobs, building up a stake,” Tom said. “He told us he wanted you to wait for it. Get nervous.”

“Well, that didn't work very well, did it?” Clint asked.

“I guess not.”

“And which of you shot Black Jack Mulligan in the back?”

“Who?”

“The big man you shot just for walking with me.”

“Oh, uh, that was Bobby.” He pointed to his dead partner.

“Sure it was,” Clint said.

“No, I swear—”

“What am I going to do with you while I go to Trinidad?” Clint asked.

“You mean, you're still gonna go even though you know Tarver is waitin'?”

“Well, if he's waiting I'd hate to keep him waiting,” Clint said. “But I don't want you sending him a telegram telling him I'm coming.”

“I won't,” Tom said. “I swear.”

“What's your name?”

“Tom. Tom Melvin.”

“Well, Tom,” Clint said, “I can't trust you.”

“Sure you can,” Tom said. “I'll just get on my horse and ride.”

“Ride where?”

“Anywhere,” Tom said, “but not Trinidad.”

“Of course,” Clint said, “I could leave you on foot. It will take me a few days to get to Trinidad.”

“Days?”

“Days.”

“I could die out here.”

“That would be helpful,” Clint said, “but I'm afraid you'd probably make it back to Castle Rock alive. And they have a telegraph office there. Of course, you could walk toward Colorado Springs. They have a telegraph office, too, but it'll take you longer to get there.”

“Really,” Tom said, “with my horse I can go anywhere.”

“Just not Trinidad.”

“Right,” Tom said. “I mean, I don't even wanna go to Trinidad. You're gonna kill Tarver, right?”

“Right.”

“So, why would I wanna be there?” Tom asked. “You'd kill me, too.”

“I tell you what,” Clint said. “Get on your horse and I'll take you to Colorado Springs. Along the way you can tell me everything you know about Tarver.”

“And what will you do with me in Colorado Springs?” Tom asked.

“Turn you over to the law,” Clint said.

“For what?”

“To hold,” Clint said, “for three days.”

“And then what?”

“And then he'll let you go.”

“And all I have to do is tell you about Tarver?”

“Everything.”

Tom thought about the alternatives and said, “Okay.”

Tarver sat in the Cut Loose Saloon in Trinidad and nursed a beer. Gerald was standing at the bar with Stevens and McDermott. Dexter walked in at that moment and approached Tarver's table.

“They got a bank here,” Dexter said.

“Yeah?”

Dexter sat.

“Got some money in it.”

“That's what banks are for.”

Dexter sat, pulled his chair closer to the table.

“I thought you always said banks are for robbing?” he said.

“That, too,” Tarver said, “but not this one. At least, not until I'm done with Clint Adams.”

“Then we can rob this bank?” Dexter said.

“What about the law here?”

“We can find that out.”

“Then I suggest you do that,” Tarver said, “while we wait.”

“I'll send Gerald.”

“Tell him not to talk to anyone,” Tarver said. “Just to look.”

“He's a good kid, Tarver,” Dexter said. “He won't screw up.”

“He better not.”

“You really think Adams is comin' here?”

“Oh yeah,” Tarver said.

“I thought you were supposed to get another telegram from Bobby and Tom?”

“They're probably dead by now.”

“You figured on that, didn't you?”

“Sure,” Tarver said. “Adams would tip to them eventually.”

“And they'll tell him you're here.”

Tarver nodded.

“Well,” Dexter said, “five against one. We should be able to take 'im.”

“No,” Tarver said. “I'm gonna take him alone.”

“Why would you do that?”

“To prove I can,” Tarver said. “I coulda done it five years ago, and I can do it now.”

Dexter shook his head. He might not have to kill Tarver himself, after all. He could just let Adams do it, and then he, Gerald, and the other two could kill Adams.

Clint had been to Trinidad before, during a year when Bat Masterson was the law there. But that had been four or five years earlier. He didn't know who the law was there now, or how the town had progressed—or regressed. But he did know several ways to get in and out of town without using the main street.

He sat outside of Trinidad, two days after leaving Tom Melvin with the sheriff in Colorado Springs. He had approached the town carefully, circling it twice before he was convinced there wasn't anyone watching for him.

He felt fairly certain that Jed Tarver would want to face him alone. After all, back when he'd caught him, Tarver had wanted to settle it that way. It had hurt the man's pride that Clint had chosen to send him to Yuma rather than face him. He'd probably been thinking about that all the years he was in prison. Now he had his chance for revenge.