Cross Draw

by J. R. Roberts

  “What if somebody else kills the Gunsmith before you do?” Raymond asked.

  “Then I kill them,” Dillon said. “It’ll all come out the same.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Clint dropped a couple of handfuls more coffee into the pot.

  “Oh my god,” Jenny said. “I guess we should be glad you only have one hand to do that with.”

  Morgan looked up from the pot she was stirring. She was making a stew, which smelled delicious. Clint also knew that the smell would travel very far. That and the coffee. The Mexican and his partners would be able to find them easily.

  “Ladies, please gather around,” he said.

  They all came to the fire.

  “I’m sure these men will try to hit us tonight,” he said.

  “What if they’re watching us right now?” Abigail asked. “What if they have us in their sights—”

  “If they did, they probably would have fired by now. And my horse would be acting up.”

  “Abigail . . .” Rosemary said.

  “I know,” the older woman said, “shut up.”

  “Just listen,” Rosemary said.

  “The three men who stopped us today know about Rosemary and Abigail, and they know there was at least one person in the back of the wagon with a gun. We’re going to use that to our advantage.”

  “How?” Delilah asked.

  “Only three of us are going to sit around the fire,” he said. “The other three will be in the bushes. With guns.”

  “We only have one gun,” Rosemary said.

  “I have more,” he said. “A rifle and a handgun. Which of you can shoot, besides Rosemary?”

  “I can,” Jenny said.

  “Can you shoot well?”

  “No,” she said honestly.

  “That’s okay. You’ll probably only have to make noise. Anyone else?”

  “I-I think I can,” Morgan said.

  “Okay, then Rosemary, Morgan, and Abigail will sit at the fire.”

  “Shouldn’t I be in the bushes with a gun?” Rosemary asked.

  “No,” Clint said, “they saw you this afternoon. You and Abigail have to be at the fire.”

  “But . . . I can shoot,” Rosemary said.

  “You’ll have a gun,” he said. He took his Colt New Line from his belt. “This one.”

  “It’s very small,” she said.

  “It’ll do the trick,” he said. “Besides, I expect to do most of the shooting myself.”

  “What about us?” Jenny asked.

  “You and Morgan will have rifles,” he said. “You won’t fire unless I say so, and you’ll fire into the air.”

  “But why?” Jenny asked. “How can we hit anything firing into the air?”

  “You won’t,” Clint told her. “I don’t want you to hit anything.”

  “But—”

  “If there’s any killing to be done,” he said, “I’ll do it.”

  “Then why are we going to be firing?” Jenny asked.

  “To convince them that they’re surrounded.”

  “In order to surround them, won’t we have to let them into camp?” Rosemary asked.

  “Yes.”

  “If they don’t see a man at the fire,” Abigail asked, “won’t they be suspicious? After all, we told them there was a man in the wagon with a gun on them.”

  “When they see three women at the fire, they’ll just think you lied to them.”

  “This is dangerous,” Abigail said.

  For once, nobody told her to shut up.

  Mendez, Dee Cain, and Stretch Conroy started to move in closer to the camp, which they could smell.

  “We gonna ambush ’em?” Dee asked.

  “We are,” Mendez said.

  “Kill ’em all?” Stretch said.

  “Sí,” Mendez said, “but not from ambush. I want them to see us.”

  “So how do we do this?” Dee asked.

  “I take them while they are eatin’,” Mendez said. “Let them know it is us . . .”

  “And then take them?” Dee asked.

  “Sí.”

  “I want the younger one,” Dee said.

  “Do not worry,” Mendez said. “You will have your pick.”

  “He has to share,” Stretch said.

  “I’ll share,” Dee said, with a grin, “but I go first.”

  “Quiet,” Mendez said. “we are getting close.”

  “That smells good,” Stretch said. “We get their food, too?”

  “We take it all,” Mendez said.

  Rosemary sat with her bowl in her lap, but found she was unable to eat. However, she forced herself to, so they’d look natural.

  “Eat, girls,” Rosemary said. “It has to look right.”

  “I can’t swallow,” Abigail said.

  “Try.”

  Delilah spooned some stew into her mouth.

  “This is really good,” she said. “When do the rest of them get to eat?”

  “We’ll switch off if nothing happens in a while,” Rosemary said.

  She put some stew in her mouth. It really was good. She put the Colt New Line down on the ground between her feet.

  Clint watched the three women eat and realized how hungry he was. He was sure Jenny and Morgan were feeling the same. If something didn’t happen soon, he’d let them change places with Rosemary and Delilah. As far as Abigail was concerned, he was going to keep guns out of her hands as long as he could.

  Clint heard Eclipse pawing the ground at that point, and knew that somebody was approaching the camp. The question was, were they coming in from different directions, or were they together?

  THIRTY

  Mendez looked at the three women eating at the campfire.

  “That’s them,” Dee said.

  “And a third woman,” Stretch said. “She musta been the one who shot your hat off, Joe.”

  “Sombrero,” Mendez said. “She shot my sombrero off.” At the moment, the sombrero, which now had a hole in it, was hanging on his back.

  “Looks like they’re eatin’ stew,” Stretch said. “I could use some of that.”

  “Do not worry,” Mendez said. “Everything they have will be ours.”

  “How do we do this?” Dee asked.

  Mendez drew his gun. “We walk in and let them know we are here,” he said.

  “Just like that?” Dee asked.

  “Just like that,” Mendez said. “Draw your guns, amigos.”

  When the three men walked into camp Rosemary kept herself from grabbing the Colt New Line.

  “Oh!” Abigail said.

  “Easy, girls,” Rosemary said.

  “Ladies,” Mendez said, “we meet again!”

  All three men had guns in their hands.

  “What do we do?” Abigail hissed.

  “Just wait . . .” Rosemary said.

  “And we meet the third lady,” Mendez said. “The one who likes to shoot at sombreros.”

  “I was aiming at your head,” Delilah said.

  Mendez laughed, followed by the other two men.

  “Is that stew?” Stretch asked.

  “It is,” Rosemary said. “Unfortunately, there’s just enough for us.”

  “Oh, that won’t be a problem,” Mendez said. “Ladies, please put your bowls down and stand up.”

  Rosemary put her bowl down between her feet and grabbed the Colt New Line.

  As the three men moved on the three women around the fire, Clint stepped out of the bushes. He hoped Rosemary wouldn’t use that gun until he said so.

  “Hold it there,” he said.

  Mendez and the other two men turned their heads to look at him.

  Rosemary picked up the gun and held it in her lap.

  “Shoot them!” Abigail hissed.

  “Not ’til Clint says so.”

  “And who is this?” Mendez asked. “So, there really was a man in the back of the wagon?”

  “That’s right,” Clint said. “I shot off your sombrero. And I meant to
. I wasn’t aiming at your head.”

  “It was a nice shot,” Mendez said.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, you are charged with protecting these women?” the Mexican asked.

  “That’s right. So you and your boys just put your guns down. You’re covered.”

  “By you?”

  “No,” Clint said. “Fire one shot!” he called.

  Both Jenny and Morgan fired a shot into the air. The three men flinched.

  “You’re surrounded,” Clint said. “And covered.”

  Mendez looked at Rosemary. She was holding the New Line in both hands, pointing it at him.

  “Your move, señor,” Clint said.

  Mendez considered the situation. There were four people in camp, two with guns. The man’s gun was still in his holster. He didn’t know how many more there were in the bushes, but they all had to be able to fit into one wagon. That meant there couldn’t be that many more.

  “Amigo,” Mendez said, “your gun is still holstered, and I do not believe we are surrounded. Oh, there may be two or three people in the bushes, but I believe you are bluffing.”

  Great, Clint thought. He’s going to make me prove it.

  “What’s your name, amigo?” Clint asked.

  “Jose Mendez,” the Mexican said, “but you can call me Joe.”

  “Well, Joe, this is not a good situation. That lady there has a gun pointed at you.”

  “She will not pull the trigger,” Mendez said, “but we will.”

  “And so will I,” Clint said.

  “Three against one, amigo,” Mendez said. “Your move.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Clint knew the odds were against him, and normally that wouldn’t have bothered him. But he didn’t know if he could take them—not left-handed. And he didn’t think the women in the bushes would be any help.

  “All right,” he said. “All right.”

  “Hold it!” Rosemary said, standing up. “Girls, come on out!”

  Jenny and Morgan came out, pointing their rifles at the three men.

  “It’s four against three, Mr. Mendez,” Rosemary said. “We’re not very good with these guns, but we’re bound to hit something, I think.”

  Mendez, Dee, and Stretch looked around them.

  “Joe?” Dee said.

  Abigail had brought her knees up to her chest, was trying to make herself as small a target as possible. Delilah simply sat still.

  Mendez looked at Clint.

  “What is your name, amigo?” he asked.

  “Clint Adams.”

  “Adams?” Dee asked.

  “The Gunsmith?” Stretch said.

  “That’s right.”

  “And these women are under your protection?” Mendez asked.

  “It seems to me they can protect themselves,” Clint said, “but I am at their disposal.”

  “We did not know,” Mendez said.

  “Well, now you do,” Clint said. “Leave these women alone.”

  Mendez lowered his gun. So did the other two.

  “Leave the guns,” Clint said, deciding to push it.

  “What?” Mendez said.

  “Leave the guns, amigo,” Clint said, “or use them.”

  Mendez froze. For a moment, Clint thought he’d gone too far.

  “Joe?” Stretch said. “He wasn’t asking, he was telling.” He and Dee Cain clearly wanted to lay their weapons down.

  “Very well,” Mendez said.

  The three men put their guns on the ground.

  “Now walk away, amigos, and don’t come back.”

  Mendez turned and walked away, followed by Cain and Stretch.

  Rosemary lowered her arm as if the gun weighed a hundred pounds.

  “Can we eat now?” Jenny asked.

  THIRTY-TWO

  They all sat around the fire, eating stew.

  “What if they go to their horses for their rifles and come back?” Abigail asked.

  “They know who Clint is now,” Rosemary said. “They won’t be back.”

  “But . . . he couldn’t have beaten them. Not with his left hand.”

  “They don’t know that,” Jenny said.

  “They might come back to find out,” Abigail said.

  “They won’t,” Clint said. “They’re done. They’ll move on to find easier prey.”

  “So we’re safe?” Abigail asked.

  “From them,” Clint pointed out. “But there are other men out there like those.”

  “How does anyone live out here?” Abigail asked. “We should have stayed in St. Louis, where we were safe.”

  “There are bad men in St. Louis, Abigail,” Clint said.

  “Not like this,” she said. “Not animals who would rape or kill us.”

  “I’m afraid there are animals like that all over.”

  Jenny tried to put her arm around Abigail, but the older woman shrunk away. She remained silent for the rest of the meal.

  Clint decided to set watches for the night.

  “I’ll go first,” he told Rosemary, “then you, then Jenny, then either Morgan or Delilah.”

  “I’ll tell them to take a watch together,” she said.

  “What about Abigail?” Clint asked.

  “I don’t think she’d be very good as a lookout,” she said.

  “You’re probably right,” he said.

  “Are you having second thoughts about them coming back?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “I just think we should be careful, that’s all. You go ahead and get some sleep.”

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “I was really scared.”

  “That’s okay,” he said. “Most people would have been.”

  “But I would have shot him.”

  “I know you would’ve,” he said. “Sleep well.”

  Morgan and Delilah took the last watch together, then woke Clint at first light.

  “Coffee,” he said, grabbing the pot. It was almost empty so he made a new one. It was ready by the time Rosemary had breakfast going in a pan.

  “Everybody sleep okay?” Clint asked.

  “How could we?” Abigail asked. “We were waiting to be murdered in our sleep.”

  “I slept fine,” Jenny said.

  “So did I,” Rosemary said. “I felt . . . safer.”

  They sat around the fire and had breakfast. Clint then poured the remnants of the coffeepot over the fire. It was Morgan’s turn to clean up. She stowed the pots and pans and utensils in the wagon.

  Clint kept a sharp eye out. He didn’t expect Mendez and his two partners to return, but if they did he wanted to be ready.

  The coast was clear by the time they were ready to move on. Clint could move his arm, but there was still no movement on his hand. If he’d had to draw left-handed the night before, he wasn’t sure what would have happened. Rosemary had pretty much saved him from finding out by calling the women out of the bushes. And it was the second time his name and reputation had kept the situation from turning deadly.

  But he couldn’t count on it to work a third time.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Dillon, Raymond and Quentin came upon the camp. Quentin put his hand over the fire ashes.

  “Still warm,” he said. “And a lot of tracks here. Too many to just be them.”

  “Whoever was tailing them caught up,” Dillon said. “No gunplay?”

  “Can’t tell for sure, but it doesn’t look like there are any bodies around,” Raymond said.

  “And no sign that any were dragged away,” Quentin said. “And no shallow graves around.”

  “A standoff?” Dillon said.

  “Maybe,” Quentin said.

  “Did they follow them after this?” Dillon asked.

  “Doesn’t look like it, but I’ll know better when we move on. I’ll be able to see if they’re still being tailed.”

  “If Adams stood off three guns,” Raymond said, “maybe he ain’t so hurt anymore?”<
br />
  “We’ll find out when we catch up to them,” Dillon said.

  “We shoulda caught them by now,” Raymond said.

  “We were being careful about their tail,” Quentin said.

  “If they’re not following them anymore, we’ll be able to move in,” Dillon said.

  “What if we found them?” Quentin asked, mounting up again. Dillon and Raymond had been looking down at him from their horses. “We could join forces. Six against the Gunsmith.”

  “We don’t need six,” Dillon said. “In fact, I might not even need you fellas. Unless the women have guns. Then you can take care of them.”

  “I ain’t gonna shoot no women,” Raymond said.

  “You will,” Quentin said, “if they’re shootin’ at you.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Raymond said, riding off.

  Quentin looked at Dillon. “Where’d you find this one?”

  “He’ll learn,” Dillon said.

  “I just hope he don’t learn the hard way,” Quentin said. “By one of them women putting a bullet into him.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  The wagon rode into the town of Clear Creek late in the day; they decided they’d stay there for the night and restock in the morning with whatever they needed. They hadn’t been traveling that long, so they didn’t need that much more in the way of supplies.

  Rosemary actually wanted to see if the town had a doctor who could look at Clint’s arm, maybe get a new opinion.

  They stopped the wagon in front of a small hotel. Once again, Rosemary decided the five women would share two rooms. Clint would be able to afford his own very easily.

  Clint, Rosemary, Delilah, and Abigail went into the hotel. Jenny and Morgan took the wagon and Eclipse to the livery stable. They agreed to meet in the lobby and get something to eat together.

  They checked in and carried whatever gear they had to their rooms. Rosemary decided to again room with Abigail, if only to keep the woman’s mouth under control.

  Clint carried his saddlebags and rifle in his one good hand and set them down outside the door to fit the key in the lock. Once he had it open, he picked up his gear again and went inside.