But it was Miranda who leaned over him and touched his shoulder.
“What—” he said, coming awake. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’,” she assured him. “Nikola was nice enough to come out and relieve me an hour early.”
“Oh,” he said, sitting up. “Why? Couldn’t he sleep?”
“I didn’t ask him for the reason,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “I just figured we’d take advantage of the situation.”
“Advantage?”
“Come on,” she said. “My bed is much more comfortable than the floor.”
She yanked him to his feet.
“Miranda—”
She pressed herself against him and kissed him. Her lush lips were hot and avid on his, her breasts pressed tightly to his chest.
“Come with me,” she whispered, hooking her fingers into his belt.
He allowed her to tug him toward the bedroom, pausing only to grab his gun belt from a nearby chair.
“You really think you’re gonna need that?” she asked.
“You never know,” he said as she dragged him into the room and closed the door.
Tesla sat at the fire, looking at the sky as the sun came up. He had his rifle across his knees. It seemed to him he’d been holding the rifle in his hands since they left Denver, and yet it still felt foreign to him. He couldn’t wait for the rest of his equipment to arrive so he could get started with his experiments.
He heard a sound off to the right and pointed his rifle that way. He held his breath, but nothing came out of the bushes.
Maybe it was just his nerves.
The predator saw Tesla sitting in front of the two remaining horses, knew that he was there to keep them safe from the prowling cat. But as the sun came up, the scientist was also making a perfect target of himself.
He decided to wait until the sun was high in the sky before taking his shot.
The cat circled around behind the man and sniffed the air. His muzzle was still red with the blood of the dead horse, and yet his hunger was unabated.
He didn’t care if his prey was two legged, or four. He was ready to attack again, as the sun came up.
Inside the house, Clint undressed Sheriff Miranda Lawson, marveled at her body. Her breasts were large and firm, her waist small, her legs long and perfect. He turned her around and admired the firm ass and the deep dimples just above the cheeks.
He turned her back to face him, then took her into his arms and kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her at the same time.
Impatiently, she yanked at his clothes, pulling them off him. They tumbled onto the bed naked, hot bodies pressed together, kissing feverishly. Neither of them realized how much they had wanted this from the moment they met.
Clint finally worked Miranda onto her back and began to explore her body with his hands and mouth . . .
The sun came up, and the predator stood, rifle in hand. He sighted down the barrel, and at that moment Tesla stood and stretched, presenting his chest as the perfect target.
As the predator moved his finger to the trigger, there was a sound behind him. Before he knew what was happening, the cat was on him, huge teeth sinking into the back of his neck. In moments the predator’s neck snapped. His finger jerked on the trigger, and the rifle went off . . .
Clint had his face pressed between Miranda’s thighs, lapping at the sweet juices that were flowing from her pussy, as the shot sounded. It was a single shot, loud and clear in the stillness of the morning.
“Wha—” Miranda said.
“A shot!” Clint said.
He leaped off the bed, grabbed his pants, shirt, and boots and yanked them on, then grabbed his gun and ran out the door.
Behind him Miranda did the same, just a bit more slowly.
Clint ran out the front door, knowing that a lot more could have happened during the time it took him to pull himself together. His shirt was open, his belt had been left behind. He paused, waiting for but hoping there would not be a second shot.
When it didn’t come, he ran around the side of the house to the lean-to. At first he didn’t see Tesla, but then spotted him. He was lying on the ground and not moving.
“Nikola!”
He ran toward the scientist, hoping that the younger man had not been killed while he was in bed with Miranda.
THIRTY-ONE
“Nikola!” Clint shouted, running to the fallen man.
As he reached him, the scientist moved, and stared up at Clint wide-eyed.
“What happened?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “There was a shot . . .”
Miranda came running over with her pistol in her hand.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m trying to find out,” Clint said.
“Is he hit?” she asked, then looked at Tesla. “Are you hit?”
“I don’t know—” He started to sit up, then stopped short. “Ow!”
“Let me see,” Clint said. He pulled aside Tesla’s jacket. “There’s blood, but not much.”
“We better get him inside,” she said.
“You get him inside,” Clint said. “I’m going to have a look around.”
“Be careful.”
“You, too.”
As Miranda got Tesla up and helped him to the house, Clint looked around, trying to see where the shot might have come from. He decided a straight line was the best bet, and he started walking.
He smelled the blood before he reached it.
The body looked as if it had been torn apart. Blood saturated the ground, but the cat’s prints were plain to see.
He found the rifle, a new Winchester with a handmade sight on it. A professional weapon. The dead man was either a soldier or a mercenary.
It looked like the rumor that somebody was going to try to kill Tesla was more than a rumor.
“What did you find?” Miranda asked as Clint entered the house. She was sitting in front of Tesla, who had his shirt off. He was very thin, with an almost concave chest.
“The shooter was torn apart by the cat. He had this.” He showed her the rifle.
“How did he miss with that?”
“I’m thinking the cat hit him as he was pulling the trigger. How’s Nikola?”
“Take a look.”
Clint put the rifle down and approached them. Tesla had a scratch on his shoulder.
“The cat threw off his aim,” Clint said, “You were lucky to get off with a scratch.”
Miranda had finished cleaning the wound, and stuck a small bandage over it.
“Anybody ready for some breakfast?” he asked.
“Oddly, yes,” Tesla said, shrugging into his shirt. “Coming close to death seems to have had that effect on me.”
“It’s called being happy to be alive,” Clint said. “Bacon and flapjacks?”
“Sounds good to me,” Miranda said. “Can I help?”
“You can keep an eye out the front window for a while,” Clint said. “Just in case our friend had a friend.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Thank you for cleaning my wound,” Tesla said.
“You’re welcome,” Miranda said, “but it was really just a scratch.”
“It is my very first wound,” he said. “Please don’t take that away from me by calling it a scratch.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll just say, ‘You’re welcome.’ ”
She walked to the window, picked up her rifle, and peered out.
When breakfast was ready, they gathered around the table.
“So the rumors were true,” Tesla said. “The President was right to hire you to protect me.”
“The President?” Miranda asked. “Of the United States?”
“He didn’t really hire me,” Clint said. “I sort of volunteered—and I didn’t do a very good job this morning, did I?”
“I am still alive, aren’t I?” Tesla asked.
“Yeah, thanks to that cat.”
“Well, in that case, I hope you don’t ever have to kill it.”
“We’ll have to wait and see on that.”
“Any bacon left?” Tesla asked.
“I’ll get it,” Miranda said.
“Bring the coffee, too,” Clint said.
She brought the pan with the bacon and the coffeepot back with her. Tesla ate the bacon that was left, and she poured coffee into everyone’s cup.
“That buckboard should have arrived by now,” Clint observed.
“Maybe they had trouble on the trail,” Miranda said.
“Yeah,” Clint said, “maybe human trouble.”
“How will we know?” Tesla asked.
“Well,” Clint said, “when you decide we’ve waited long enough, we’ll have to go and look for them.”
“What if there’s somebody else out there with a rifle?” Miranda asked.
“Or that cat,” Tesla said.
“I’ve been thinking about that cat.”
“Thinkin’ what?” Miranda asked.
“You hear those horses?”
“Yes,” Tesla said, “I’ve noticed how restless they are. Is that because the cat is still out there?”
“Partially,” Clint said.
“It’s the blood,” Miranda said.
Both men looked at her.
“The blood has soaked into the ground,” she said. “The smell is makin’ them nervous.”
“That’s right,” Clint said.
“So what do we do?” Tesla asked. “How do we get rid of the blood?”
“We don’t,” Clint said. “Let’s bring the horses around to the front of the house and tie them off. We can keep an eye on them that way. Also, they won’t be able to smell the blood.”
“They’ll still smell that cat,” Miranda said.
“Yes, they will,” Clint said. “I might have to go out there and see if I can hunt it down.”
“Alone?” Tesla asked.
“You’d be better off here with Miranda than out there with me,” Clint said.
“What about the four men from town?” she asked. “You think they been hired to kill Nikola?”
“No,” Clint said. “I think the one whose arm I broke is out for revenge. The others are along for the ride to help him.”
“Well,” Tesla said, “when the rest of the supplies get here, we’ll have two more men to help us.”
“That’s not what they hired on to do,” Clint told him. “I doubt they’ll want to be dealt a hand in this.”
“So we will have to face them alone?” Tesla asked.
“Most likely.”
“Can you handle them? The four of them?”
Clint finished chewing what was in his mouth, swallowed, and said, “I guess we’ll find out.”
THIRTY-TWO
“Stop!” Givens called.
The buckboard came to a stop and both men turned to look at him. Givens wasn’t looking at them. He was looking up ahead.
“What is it?” Joe asked.
“Smoke, up ahead,” Givens said.
They looked.
“Just a tendril,” Les said.
“Probably coming from a pipe chimney,” Givens said.
“That’d be our house,” Joe said. “Should be right up ahead.”
“Well,” Givens said, “you boys better get going, then.”
“Ain’t you comin’?” Les asked.
“You said you was gonna help us unload,” Joe reminded him.
“Well,” Givens said, “I changed my mind. You just go ahead.”
“Where are you goin’ ?” Les asked.
“You’ll see me again,” Givens said.
Joe and Les exchanged a glance, then shrugged. Joe snapped his reins and the team started up again.
Givens dismounted and sat.
Roman, Lefty, and Donnie came upon Givens a half an hour later.
“What happened?” Roman asked. “I thought you was goin’ with them.”
“I decided it might not be wise for me to go ridin’ in there,” Givens said.
“Why not?” Donnie asked.
“That lady sheriff,” Givens said. “She mighta rode on ahead to warn them.”
“You think they know we’re comin’?” Lefty asked.
“Maybe.”
“I wish I knew who that feller with the ax handle was,” Lefty said.
“We shoulda drew down on him,” Donnie said.
“He likely woulda killed you,” Givens said.
“How do you know?” Donnie asked. “We don’t know who he is.”
“You three looked him in the eye and decided not to draw on him,” Givens said. “He must be pretty damned good.”
“Well,” Roman said, “we’re gonna find out how good.”
“We’ll wait here awhile,” Givens said.
“Why?” Roman asked. “I can see that smoke up ahead.”
“That buckboard will be just about there,” Givens said. “Let’s give them a chance to get involved in the unloadin’, then we’ll go in.”
“Sounds good,” Roman said. “Okay, dismount. We’ll wait.”
“Can we eat?” Donnie asked.
“Water and jerky,” Roman said.
Lefty dismounted and said, “Looks like they might have some hot food up ahead, judging by that smoke. Bet it comes from an oven.”
“After we take care of ’em,” Roman said, “you can eat all the hot food you want.”
Roman tied his horse and walked over to where Givens was sitting.
“You think I was afraid to draw on that man?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Givens said. “I wasn’t there.”
“Well, I wasn’t.”
“Good,” Givens said, looking up at him. “You’ll get a chance to prove it.”
THIRTY-THREE
They heard the buckboard before they saw it.
“What’s that?” Tesla asked.
He was standing on the porch with Clint, watching the horses.
“Buckboard approaching,” Clint said.
“It is about time,” Tesla said, stepping down to the ground.
“Stop,” Clint said. “Wait for them.”
Tesla stepped back onto the porch.
Miranda came out.
“Buckboard,” she said.
“We hear it,” Clint said.
They waited. Eventually, the buckboard came into view as two men drove it into the clearing in front of the house.
“Mr. Tesla?” one of the men called.
“I am Tesla.”
“We’re from the Meridian Freight Company,” the man said. “We have your supplies.”
The two teamsters stepped down. They were large men with muscular arms. One of them had a prodigious belly, which probably helped him with his heavy lifting.
“Would you like some coffee and something to eat?” Clint asked. “Before you begin to unload?”
They looked over at the first buckboard.
“Looks like a lot of work,” one of them said. “Whataya say, Les? Breakfast first?”
The man with the big belly grinned and said, “Always.”
“Come inside,” Clint said.
He made them some bacon, coffee, and johnnycakes, because they were quick to make.
“Mighty fine meal,” Les said.
“Agreed,” Joe said, rubbing his belly.
“Why is the lady stayin’ outside?” Les asked.
“The lady is the sheriff of Gunnison,” Clint said. “She’s looking after the horses, We lost one to a mountain lion.”
“Maybe we can get some huntin’ in, then,” Joe said.
“After you unload my supplies,” Tesla said. “I am eager to start with my work.”
“Let’s get started then,” Joe said.
“Okay,” Givens said. “Let’s mount up.”
The other three men rose and walked to their horses.
“How do you want to play this?” Givens asked as they started out.
“But you want them to know it’s you, right?”
“Right,” Roman said. “I want to take that fella’s ax handle and give him a taste of it himself.”
“While we watch?” Donnie asked.
“While we keep our guns on him,” Givens said.
“Suits me,” Lefty said. “I ain’t lookin’ forward to facin’ that feller with a gun.”
“Why not?” Roman demanded.
“I dunno,” Lefty said. “Just seems to me he’d be a hand with a gun.”
“Because he can swing an ax handle?” Givens asked.
“He just makes me nervous, is all,” Lefty said. “I’d just as soon get the drop on him.”
“Let’s ride, then,” Givens said. “They should be in the middle of unloading.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Clint helped the two men unload Tesla’s heavy equipment. Tesla was too slight to be of any help, so he stayed inside and directed them where to put each piece.
Miranda stood watch over them with her rifle in her hands.
“What is this stuff?” Joe asked Clint as they walked from the house back to the buckboard.
“Just equipment,” Clint said. “That’s all I know.”
“It’s all metal,” Les said. “Now we know why the damned buckboard was so heavy. We had to stop and repair a wheel twice.”
“Axle problem?” Clint asked.
“No, radial.”
“We fixed it,” Les said.
As they were sliding another piece of equipment off the buckboard bed, Joe said, “Sure wish that other fella had stayed with us. We coulda used him.”
Clint stopped. “Wait. What other fellow?”
“Huh?”
“What man are we talking about?” Clint asked, putting down his side of the equipment he was holding.
The two burly men put down their end of the equipment.
“Just a fella we met in Gunnison who was lookin’ for a job,” Les said.
“He was a big fella, so we figured he’d be a big help,” Joe said.
Gunsmith 360 : The Mad Scientist of the West (9781101545997) Page 8