“What are you doin’?” he asked.
“Just sitting and thinking.”
“Well, Bodie’s here with Adams, and he’s already told him he told you about Big Ed.”
“He must have had his reasons,” she said. “Put them in the living room, Ray, and give them something to drink. I’ll be right down.”
“What are you gonna tell him?”
“I suppose,” she said, “that depends on what questions he asks.”
He stared at her, but when she said nothing more, he turned and left.
Angela went to her dressing table and sat down in front of it. She touched up her face, rouging her lips and cheeks, then brushed her hair until it shone to her satisfaction.
She stood up, looked at herself. Her dress was blue, cinched in tight at the waist, showing off her full bosom. She thought about changing into something else, then just shrugged and left the room.
* * *
Winston led them into the living room and, as they sat, asked, “Something to drink?”
“Whiskey,” Bodie said without hesitation.
“Mr. Adams?” Ray asked. “Whiskey? Brandy?”
“I’ll take whiskey, please.”
“Sure thing.”
Winston poured three glasses, handed them theirs, and kept one for himself.
“How’s she doin’?” Bodie asked.
“Okay,” Winston said. “She’s a strong woman. She’s in charge now.”
“I guess she’ll want to have the body dug up and sent back here, huh?” Clint asked.
“Um, I don’t know,” Winston replied. “She ain’t said nothin’ about that.”
“Well,” Clint said, “maybe she’s thinking about it.”
“Actually, Mr. Adams,” she said from the doorway, “I have been.”
TWENTY-NINE
She entered the room, and had the attention of all three men. Clint, seeing her for the first time, understood what Claire meant about her being very beautiful. Her black hair was lustrous and long, and her body was lush. All any man could think when looking at her would be sex.
“I’m Angela Callahan,” she said, approaching him with her hand out.
“Clint Adams.” He shook her hand. It warmed his. And she held his longer than was necessary.
“I understand you brought the news of my husband’s death,” she said. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”
“I thought it was the least I could do,” he said.
“Why?” she asked. “Did you kill him?” She looked at Winston. “Ray, be a dear and pour me a brandy.”
“Yes, Ang—ma’am,” Winston said.
“No,” Clint said, “I didn’t kill him. That was Tom Angel.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, “Tom. And I understand he’s dead, too?”
“Yes.”
“Poor Tom.”
“You knew him?”
“I did.”
“Do you know why your husband wanted so badly to kill him?”
Winston approached her, handed her a glass of brandy.
“Ray, why don’t you take the sheriff out and show him that new colt.”
“But I thought—”
“I’ll entertain Mr. Adams until you get back,” she said. “Why don’t you give us about a half an hour?”
“Half an hour?”
“There’s a dear.”
“Uh, yeah, okay,” Winston said, “sure. Come on, Sheriff.”
Winston and Bodie put their drinks down and left the room. Angela didn’t speak until they had heard the door close.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” she asked. “Now we can talk.”
“We couldn’t talk with them here?”
“No,” she said, “not freely. Not about this.”
She was staring at him, and her eyes seemed to be blazing. He wondered if they were even talking about the same thing.
“How’s your drink?” she asked him.
* * *
Angela had felt something pass between her and the Gunsmith when they touched hands. Suddenly, she wanted the other two men out of the room. Out of the house. She’d never met a man before who had the sheer magnetism the Gunsmith had. And she knew he was feeling the same thing about her.
Could it have been his reputation? She knew what it was about her. Men had looked at her a certain way her whole life, from the time she was twelve years old. Her breasts had started to develop then, and had continued to grow for years after that. When she was sixteen, she had more of a woman’s body than any woman she knew.
Yes, she knew by the way he was looking at her that he felt it. But what was it about him?
What was it about him that was making her so wet that she was sure he could smell it?
* * *
Clint was erect.
As soon as Angela Callahan had entered the room, he’d felt himself start to grow hard. Now he was fully erect, and she knew it. He was sure she could smell it on him, just as he could smell her arousal on her.
They were two animals in heat. Was that why she had asked for half an hour?
* * *
Outside, Bodie asked, “What colt?”
“There is no colt,” Winston said. “She wants to talk to him alone.”
“Why?”
“Be damned if I know,” Ray Winston said. “I don’t like it.”
“Should we go back in?”
“No,” Winston said. “She said a half an hour, and we better give it to her.”
“So what do we do?”
“We wait,” Winston said sourly. “We just goddamn wait.”
* * *
She set her glass down, reached behind her to undo her dress.
“We don’t have much time,” she said. “Twenty-five minutes or so.”
“This is crazy,” he said. He set his glass down, removed his gun belt, and set it nearby.
“Why is it crazy?” she asked. “I’m a widow.”
“Only just.”
She removed her dress, pulling it down over her shoulders and breasts, then tugging it down farther so that it fell to her feet. Her undergarments were silk, and expensive. That didn’t matter to her. She tore them getting them off, and then stood in front of him naked.
He had removed his shirt and trousers, and now stood there staring at her, his cock making a tent of his shorts.
Her pendulous breasts held his attention, the nipples distended and impossibly dark against her pale skin. The aureoles were dappled with little bumps.
She had a slim waist, flared hips, and a full dark bush between her legs. She was a woman built for a bed.
He slid his shorts down to his ankles, and then kicked them away. If the two men returned now, what would they do, or say?
Crazy!
THIRTY
They were in a rush, feverishly so.
In the back of their minds the whole time was the possibility that the sheriff and the foreman might come back.
Clint took her breasts in his hands, hefted their weight, then lifted them to his mouth. Her nipples were large, fit into his mouth nicely.
“I’m too big,” she said.
“Oh, no,” he said, caressing one pear-shaped breast, “they’re just fine.”
“Yes, well,” she said, cradling his head to her chest, “in a few years they won’t be.”
“In a few years I won’t be here,” he said. “I’m here now.”
Between them his hard cock pressed itself against her hot belly.
“I know,” she said, reaching between them, “I can feel you.”
She fell to her knees in front of him, rubbed his hard penis over her cheeks, then brought it to her lips. She licked the length of him, then wet the tip a few times before taking him into her mouth.
He cupped her head and moved his hips in unison to her sucking action. Finally, she released him and looked up, her eyes shining.
“We’ll have to save this for later,” she said, “They’ll be back any moment.”
“Then
we better be quick,” he said.
He pulled her to her feet, then lifted her and carried her to the sofa. He set her down on it, spread her legs, and drove himself into her. She gasped, wrapped her legs around him, and held on for dear life…
* * *
They got dressed quickly and Angela asked, “What did you come out here to say to me?”
“Well,” Clint said, strapping on his gun, “I wanted to ask you about your husband.”
“What about him?”
“What did he have against Tom Angel that took him a thousand miles just to kill him?”
“My husband didn’t tell me about his business.”
“So you think it was business?”
“What else could it have been?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Clint said. “Jealousy maybe?”
“Jealousy?” Angela patted her hair into place. “What was there to be jealous about?”
“Maybe you and Angel.”
She shook her head.
“No, not me and Tom,” she said. “My husband didn’t care that much about me. It was something else between those two.”
“And nobody else knows what it was?”
“Not that I know of,” she said. “So it seems to me you’ll never find out.”
“Maybe,” Clint said, “but I know one thing for sure.”
“What’s that?”
“I won’t find out anything if I stop asking.”
He turned to leave.
“Will you be coming back?” she asked.
Before he could answer, Bodie and Winston came walking in the front door, stopped when they saw Clint in the living room doorway.
“What’s goin’ on?” Winston asked.
“Nothing,” Clint said. “I’m done here.”
He walked to the front door, opened it, then turned to look back.
“Sheriff? You coming?”
THIRTY-ONE
As they rode back to town, Bodie asked Clint, “What did you find out?”
“Not much.”
“She didn’t know nothin’?”
“Or she wasn’t saying,” Clint said.
“You think she’s holdin’ somethin’ back?”
“I don’t see how she could not know what was goin’ on with her husband.”
“You ever been married?”
“No.”
“Well, I have,” Bodie said. “Believe me, most wives don’t wanna know.”
“You still married?”
“Not for a long time.”
“Mrs. Callahan said her husband wasn’t jealous,” Clint said. “You know anything about her and any men from around here?”
“You think she was cheatin’ on Big Ed?”
“I’m asking you.”
“He woulda killed her.”
“Not according to her,” Clint said. “She said he didn’t care about her.”
“That don’t matter,” Bodie said. “She was his, and if somebody was cheatin’ with her, he woulda killed him.”
“And would he ride a thousand miles to do it?”
“I think he woulda rode to hell and back.”
* * *
“What went on in here?” Ray Winston asked.
“Nothing,” Angela Callahan said. “We talked.” She poured herself a drink.
Winston looked around the room suspiciously.
“Talked about what?”
“Big Ed.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I didn’t tell him anything, Ray,” she said. “Stop barking at me.”
He looked her up and down, still suspicious. There was a smell in the room he knew well, one that he usually smelled in her bedroom.
“If you did somethin’ with him—” he started, but Angela cut him off.
“How dare you!” she said. “You don’t question me, Ray. Remember, with Big Ed gone, I’m in charge, and you’re only the foreman.”
“Only?”
“That’s right, only,” she said. “And if you want to keep your job, you’ll show me the proper respect.”
“What are you tryin’ to pull?” he asked.
“I’m pulling my weight, Ray,” she said. “Or rather, I’m pushing my weight around, from now on. Now get out.”
“Get out?”
“That’s what I said,” she repeated. “Get out.”
“Angela—”
“We’ll talk later,” she said. “I have to think.”
He stared at her, then turned and slunk from the room. She heard the door slam behind him.
As soon as he left, she poured herself another drink and sat down. Her legs were still shaking. She’d never been with a man who fit her so well sexually as the Gunsmith. He’d shown her that it wasn’t all about young men. A man with experience, who knew how to use it, could put a younger man—like Ray Winston—to shame.
She wondered what Clint Adams would find out about Big Ed, and when he’d be coming back.
* * *
When Clint and the sheriff got back to town, they rode directly to the livery stable.
They walked their horses in and set to unsaddling the animals themselves.
“Whataya plan to do now?” Bodie asked.
“Not sure,” Clint said. “It seems like I’ve talked to everyone I can talk to, and either nobody has anything to say, or they don’t want to say anything.”
“Maybe there’s nothin’ to be said,” Bodie offered.
Clint rubbed Eclipse down and said, “I can’t accept that. A man doesn’t have that kind of hate inside him for no reason—and somebody has to know something about it.”
“Why?”
“Because that much hate has to come out somehow,” Clint said. “There’s got to be somebody he’d talk to.” Clint had talked to Larry Cahill, Tom Angel’s best friend, but what about Big Ed?
“Did Callahan have any friends?”
“Why, sure,” Bodie said, “most men have friends, don’t they?”
“Who were they? Other ranchers?”
“I don’t know,” Bodie said.
“Well,” Clint said, “maybe that’s something I should find out.”
THIRTY-TWO
There was a private club in town. In cattle country it would have been known as a Cattlemen’s Club. In Black Rock, it was called the Gentlemen’s Club.
Clint had nobody in town to confide in, except maybe for Jenny. He went to her café for supper. The place was in the midst of their rush, so Clint simply ordered a steak dinner and ate it slowly. Before he was done, the place had emptied out. Jenny came to his table with another pot of coffee and sat with him. It was she who told him about the club.
“Was Callahan a member?” Clint asked.
“I’m sure he was,” she said. “I mean, I’ve seen him going in and out on occasion when I pass by.”
“Okay,” he said, “so maybe I can find some friends of his in there.”
“But how will you get in?”
“Maybe I can get myself invited in.”
“How?”
“Do you know any of the other members? I mean, who they are?”
“Well, maybe,” she said. “I mean, I could guess.”
“Have any of them ever eaten here?”
“Most of the members of that club eat there,” she said wryly. “They don’t come in here.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “maybe the sheriff can help me. Maybe he can steer me toward another member, or get me in himself.”
“Clint,” she said, “if I was you, I wouldn’t trust the sheriff too much.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I don’t.”
She frowned, stared across the table at him.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Did you talk to Mrs. Callahan?”
“I did.”
“And? Was she able to tell you anything?”
“No,” Clint said. “That is, she says she can’t.”
“But you think she
’s holding something back.”
“She must be. She was married to Callahan. She’s got to know something.”
“Maybe you should ask her again.”
“Maybe.”
“Is that all?”
“What?”
“Is that all you and she talked about?”
She was staring at him oddly, and he wondered if she could smell the other woman on him.
“No, that was it.”
“Did you see her alone?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Well, maybe she didn’t want to talk in front of anyone,” she said. “That is, if anyone else was there.”
“Yes,” he said, “the sheriff and her foreman were with us.”
“So there you go,” she said. “She didn’t want to talk in front of the foreman.”
“You might be right.” He pushed his plate away. “That was great, as usual. I better go and talk to the sheriff now.”
“Why don’t you come back later,” she suggested, “and I’ll let you walk me home.”
That would mean he’d have to take a bath first; otherwise she would smell Angela Callahan on him.
“I’d like to do that,” he said, “if I have the time.”
“Well…all right,” she said, looking a little confused. Maybe she thought he’d jump at the chance to walk her home. Under normal circumstances, he would have.
He smiled at her and left.
* * *
“You back so soon?” Bodie asked as Clint entered his office.
“Relax, you’re not going to have to saddle your horse again.” Clint walked up to the man’s desk, but did not sit down. “Remember when I said I was going to try to find some friends of Big Ed Callahan’s?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the Gentlemen’s Club?” Clint asked.
Bodie frowned and said, “I didn’t think of it.”
“Why not? Wasn’t Callahan a member?”
“He was.”
“So then he’d have friends there, right?”
“Maybe not.”
“Why not?”
“The club members are all wealthy men who are competing against each other in the business world,” Bodie said. “I doubt you can find two of them who like each other.”
“Well,” Clint said, “I’d like to try. Would you take me over there?”
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