Shadow Walker

by J. R. Roberts

  The Blossom was a short, wide building that had obviously started off as two smaller ones. Its roof was taller on one side than on the other and had two crooked doors leading inside that were separated by a pane of dirty glass.

  Clint walked inside and was immediately recognized by most of the working girls as well as a few of the men standing watch by the door. Since they were more interested in guarding the cash register than anything else, only one of those men left their post to make their way to a bald man sitting at a table in the back.

  The bald man practically jumped from his chair and glared across the room at Clint. After swapping a few quick words with the guard, he pulled his suspenders back over his shoulders from where they’d been dangling from his pants and plastered on a filthy smile.

  “Well, well, I see the big man from the billiard hall has finally come to see his competition.”

  Clint shrugged at the bald man and replied, “I never received an invitation, so I didn’t think there was any problem.”

  “No problem. I’ve just heard a lot about you.”

  “If you’re Holling, then I’ve heard some things about you, too.”

  Even though Clint knew well enough the bald man was Holling, pretending that he wasn’t sure was a good way to throw Holling off his stride. The comment had an even bigger effect, since the bald man actually seemed perplexed that his legend might not have been as far-reaching as he’d thought.

  “What have you heard, Adams? Of course, I doubt I can match up to a big, bad gunfighter like yourself. Sal must think his whores have gold-plated pussies if he needs to hire a killer like you for his henhouse.”

  “I didn’t come here to fight,” Clint said in a friendly manner. Putting a not-so-friendly edge in his voice, he added, “I know for a fact you wouldn’t want that.”

  Holling paused and then rekindled his smile. “Fair enough. I’m just a businessman and not the violent sort. What brings you here, Adams?”

  “I’d like to have a word with one of the girls who works for you. Her name’s Alicia.”

  “She’s the one with that cute little sister, ain’t she?”

  “Kaylee.”

  “That’s the one. I could sure do some good business if they both—”

  “What about Alicia?” Clint interrupted before he gave in and punched Holling in the mouth. “Is she around?”

  “Nope. Not for a while.”

  “What about Kaylee?”

  “Come to think of it, she was asking some questions not too long ago. Seemed awfully upset. Can I get you a drink, Adams?”

  Clint shrugged. “Why not?”

  That brought another grin to Holling’s face as he snapped his fingers at a disinterested barkeep. “Two whiskeys. Just bring ’em over to my table. Come on with me, Adams. Take a load off.”

  Holling led the way to the table where he’d been sitting before and pulled another chair over. “You could make some real good money working here instead’a that shit-hole billiard parlor.”

  “Tad’s is a nice place,” Clint said. Since Holling didn’t seem to know about his arrangement with Sal, Clint decided not to correct him. “Besides, I’ve heard some bad things about what goes on in here.”

  “You talking about that whore and her sister again?”

  “I didn’t say I was, but you must have something to say on the subject.”

  At that moment, the barkeep walked over to deliver the two glasses of whiskey. Holling leaned back as if he were about to get a shave as the barkeep plunked down the glasses and sauntered away. All the while, the wheels in Holling’s head were grinding so hard that Clint could all but hear them.

  After all of that furious contemplation, the best Holling could come up with was, “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Alicia’s sister, which is I don’t know nothing. Whores aren’t exactly reliable. They come and go as they please.”

  “As they please, huh?”

  “There’s more than enough women lookin’ to sell what they got. I don’t need to force any of them into it.”

  “You’re getting awfully upset. Is this a touchy subject?”

  “No,” Holling grunted. “I just don’t like being accused of nothing.”

  “I didn’t accuse you of anything.”

  Holling’s eyes shifted back and forth in their sockets as he downed half of his whiskey.

  Clint kept his eyes on Holling until he could see the other man squirm. When the time was right, he asked, “What happened to Alicia?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Because you stand to lose money if she goes missing. I’ve seen folks who’ve lost dogs and been more concerned about it than you are. You must have either been the one to make her disappear or you already covered your losses somehow.”

  “I told you, I don’t control when my girls come and go.”

  “Then who’d you get to replace her? Where did she go? Was she in any trouble? Any businessman would know something about why he’s losing one of his workers. If you take me for a fool . . .”

  Holling reacted quickly and held up his hand. “I didn’t say any such thing. All I know is that someone busted into her room and might have took off with her.”

  “When was this?”

  “I don’t know. A week ago, maybe. She went home and didn’t show up again. That’s it. I went to check on her myself, and it looked like a goddamn twister went through her room. Whores like her keep all their money socked away like mice, so she probably got robbed. I feel sorry for her, as a matter of fact.”

  “Then why not mention this earlier?” Clint asked.

  “Because there ain’t nothing I can do. There ain’t nothing anyone can do. She’s gone and that’s that. Talking about it and going on like this will only make things worse.”

  “Or draw attention to where it’s not wanted?”

  When he heard that, Holling twitched. It wasn’t much, but it was more than enough to tell Clint he’d struck gold.

  Like any animal that had been backed into a corner, Holling could either squirm away or bite. Since squirming hadn’t gotten him anywhere so far, he bared his teeth. “I’ve been polite until now, Adams. I’ve given you a drink and some of my time. If you’ve got something to tell me as far as this missing whore is concerned, you’d best say it. Otherwise, get the hell out of my place.”

  Clint nodded slowly and read everything he could on Holling’s face. He looked around and was also able to read the faces of no less than three of Holling’s men. The men were positioned all around Clint and had their hands on the grips of their guns. Although the men seemed a bit nervous, they also looked ready to make a move.

  Setting down his drink without having tasted a drop of the whiskey, Clint walked straight past Holling’s gunmen and left the Cherry Blossom.

  NINE

  When Clint approached the marshal’s office, he saw a familiar figure stepping out the front door and pulling in a breath of cool, night air. The man was of average height and had broad shoulders. His hat was in hand at the moment, displaying a full head of dark blond hair. When he saw Clint crossing the street, he put his hat on and nodded before heading in the other direction.

  “Can I have a word with you, Marshal?” Clint asked.

  Marshal Rand stopped, sighed and turned around as if it required a great amount of effort. “You can talk to one of my deputies, if you like. I was just on my way home.”

  “This will just take a moment. I don’t know if you recall, but I’m Clint Adams.”

  “I know who you are. You’re working over at Tad’s.”

  “Only temporarily.”

  “Not temporary enough, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Clint would have taken some offense from that if he hadn’t already gone down that road when he first agreed to work off his debt to Sal. Marshal Rand had come around, spouting off about how he didn’t like saloon owners and pimps hiring gunmen to back them up. He’d left it at a warning since then, mostly because Clint hadn’t done any
thing that would have crossed anyone’s line. Even so, that didn’t keep the sour look off of the lawman’s face.

  “Have you heard about the woman who’s gone missing?” Clint asked.

  Rand scowled and hung his head as it became clear he wouldn’t be able to push Clint aside and keep walking home. “What missing girl?”

  “Alicia Higgins. She used to work over at the Cherry Blossom.”

  “Oh, yeah. Her sister’s been grousing about something along those lines. What of it?”

  “She’s still missing, that’s what.”

  “She’s a whore,” Rand stated. “Whores go missing. They get killed. They get hurt. Maybe if they chose a more respectable profession, they wouldn’t have such problems.”

  “You don’t care if she might have been kidnapped or killed?” Clint asked.

  “Frankly, they’re lucky I tolerate them being in this town at all. They lay down, spread their legs, steal men’s money and expect to be protected like they were upright citizens.”

  “So whores are just fair game in this town?”

  “I’ve got better things to do than look after them. Besides, that’s what men like you are paid to do.”

  “I’m not talking about some woman who got beat up while trying to rob a drunk,” Clint said. “I’m talking about a woman who is missing. She’s got a family that misses her and hasn’t hurt anyone, so there’s no reason she should just be forgotten.”

  “I’ll look into it. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  When Marshal Rand tried to step around him, Clint sidestepped so that he remained in front of the lawman. Although Rand looked more than a little annoyed by that, Clint spoke quickly to explain himself.

  “I think the owner of the Cherry Blossom’s got something to do with this girl’s disappearance,” Clint said. “He’s covering up what he knows and lying about several things that have to do with what happened.”

  “You’ve got proof of this?”

  “Holling’s story is that someone busted into Alicia’s room and robbed her. I’ve been to her room and it was a mess, but nobody busted into it. There were even a few bits and pieces of jewelry scattered around, which is exactly what a robber would be looking for.”

  “That doesn’t prove she was killed or kidnapped.”

  “Maybe not, but it proves there’s something being covered up. If she was killed, then her murderer shouldn’t just be able to walk away without a care in the world. And if she was kidnapped, her life may depend on someone giving a damn and coming after her.”

  “You want to go after her?” Rand growled. “Be my guest. I made it perfectly clear to the owners of every saloon in this town that I wouldn’t waste my time chasing down drunks and wild whores. That’s why there’s only a few such places here.

  “That’s also why saloon owners hire their own security. If that security gets out of line, I come down on them like the hand of God. It’s a fine system and it’s worked for years. Unless you can show me some decent folks getting hurt, then you’ll just have to step aside before I get cross.”

  “And what if I decide to look a little deeper?” Clint asked. “It may not sit well with Holling.”

  “Pimps, whores, card cheats—they’re all the same sort of filth in my book. Dig as deep as you want and come to me if you find something worth my time. Otherwise, don’t start anything to hurt any good folks or I’ll run you out of Markton just like I would anyone else.”

  Clint smiled and stepped aside. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

  TEN

  When Clint returned to the Cherry Blossom, he pushed open the door and glanced around until he spotted the faces of the hired guns that had been there before. He picked out every last one of them and even spotted a few more who might be a problem.

  One of the men was a large fellow with dark red hair. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to display a set of thickly muscled arms. The moment he saw Clint standing in the doorway, he got up from his stool and stomped over to him.

  “Mr. Holling’s busy,” the redhead grunted. “Go back to Tad’s where you belong.”

  “Find Mr. Holling,” Clint said. “I want to talk to him.”

  The redhead took another step forward and slapped his hand flat against Clint’s chest. Although he meant to shove Clint out the door, he only managed to knock him back half a step. “You heard what I said,” he said angrily. “Now get the hell out of—”

  Clint cut him short by grabbing the redhead’s wrist and twisting it hard enough to drop the big man to his knees. While leaning in to apply a bit more pressure, Clint said, “Tell me where Holling is.”

  “In the back!” the redhead said through the pain flooding from his arm and coursing through his shoulder. “Same table . . . as always!”

  “Thanks.” Letting go of the redhead’s wrist, Clint began walking through the room as if there weren’t a thing or person that could stop him.

  The Cherry Blossom wasn’t empty, but most of its customers were busy in one of the smaller bedrooms in the back. That left only a handful of drunks and a few card players, who were more than willing to step aside and let Clint go wherever the hell he wanted.

  Clint could see Holling at the table where he’d been before. The only reason he hadn’t seen him right away was because of the two burly men who stood between that table and the front door. One of them had dark skin and cautious eyes, while the other was pale and spoke in a loud, grating voice.

  “You ain’t wanted here, Adams!” the pale man said. “You were warned, so get out before we call the marshal.”

  “Already been to see the marshal,” Clint said. “He doesn’t care about me any more than he does about you.”

  Standing up and clamoring for his men’s attention, Holling shouted, “Just remove him from here, goddamn it!”

  That was all the pale man needed to hear and he moved forward while balling up both fists. He lashed out with a quick punch that caught Clint off his guard. His knuckles cracked against Clint’s jaw, but didn’t do much damage. Going by the look on the pale man’s face, one might have thought he’d won a prize.

  “You ain’t nothing, Adams,” the pale man growled. From there, he intended on following up his first punch with another to Clint’s nose. He managed to get his arm cocked back before Clint buried his fist in his gut. The pale male doubled over and hacked up a long, strained breath.

  Clint turned toward the dark-skinned man, but knew the pale man wasn’t done. Without looking at the man he’d just punched, Clint brought up his knee to slam into the pale man’s face. That dropped him like a sack of rocks, allowing Clint to deal with his next opponent.

  The dark-skinned man must have known who he was dealing with, because his hand faltered when he started to go for the gun holstered at his side. Rather than draw the pistol, he went for the knife strapped to his belt.

  When Clint saw the blade slice through the air, he lunged backward to clear a path. The knife hissed past his stomach, but came back in an even deadlier strike. Clint lowered his left arm and tensed his muscles, fully expecting to feel the sharpened steel cut through his flesh. It did, but only as it was deflected by Clint’s block.

  Without wasting a single moment that he’d just bought for himself, Clint grabbed the other man’s arm to keep it from swinging the blade again. From there, he pounded the knuckles of his free hand into the bones just below the dark-skinned man’s wrist. He thought he felt one of the bones snap, but couldn’t be sure.

  The dark-skinned man let out a pained grunt, but somehow held onto his knife. Perhaps taking a note from Clint, he brought up his knee to strike at Clint’s ribs.

  When Clint stepped into him and turned to one side, he managed to catch the incoming knee before it gained any steam. One more hit to the same spot on the other man’s arm, followed by a backhand to the mouth, put the dark-skinned fighter out of the brawl.

  Blood seeped into Clint’s shirtsleeve and he tapped the fresh wound to get a feel for how bad it was.
Despite the blood, he could tell the cut was too shallow to worry about. Therefore, he could pay attention to what mattered before one of Holling’s men snuck in a lucky shot.

  As if trying to pounce on that very opportunity, Holling shouted, “A hundred dollars to the man who drops that prick!”

  None of the customers were interested and the two guards closest to Holling’s table were still trying to catch their breath.

  Clint saw the redhead from the corner of his eye and immediately shifted his focus toward the door.

  By that time, the redhead was staring intently back at Clint. His hand was wrapped around the grip of his pistol and was already bringing the weapon out from its holster.

  Clint saw the gun in the redhead’s hand a fraction of a second before his modified Colt cleared leather. Holding the pistol at arm’s length, Clint sighted down the barrel and waited.

  It didn’t take long before the redhead came to his senses. Of course, lowering his gun was an easy choice to make since it hadn’t even left its holster.

  “All right, all right,” Holling said as if he were doing Clint a favor. “That’s enough. Come on over here and we can talk.”

  “If you set me up for another ambush,” Clint warned, “I’ll be sure to kill you first.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Holling sputtered as he motioned Clint toward an empty chair. The next thing he did was wave toward the barkeep, who put away the shotgun he’d been holding.

  ELEVEN

  Holling was sweating profusely as he sat and waited for Clint to take the seat he’d been offered. Pausing in the middle of reaching for his shirt pocket, he waited for Clint to nod before removing the handkerchief that had been stuffed there.

  “Awfully warm tonight,” Holling said as he dabbed the sweat from his brow. “What’s on your mind, Adams? Or should I call you Clint?”

  “Adams is fine,” was Clint’s icy reply.

  “Oh, certainly. Of course.”