“Yeah, but you made sure it was me, not you,” Wynn said.
“What else have you made sure of, Fred?” Bockwinkle asked. “You know, you’re a pretty smart fella.”
“Look,” Fellows said, “fighting among ourselves is just what Adams would want. We have to figure out what to do about him, because by now he knows the truth.”
“About you two,” Bockwinkle said. “There’s no truth to know about me.”
“Except that you’re takin’ money from us,” Fellows said.
“And by now he knows it’s Bank of Organ Pipe money,” Wynn said.
Bockwinkle frowned.
“Okay,” he said, “so Clint Adams, the famous Gunsmith, has to die in Yuma, Arizona. It’ll put us on the map.”
“And carrying the story will make my paper,” Wynn said.
“I think when this is over,” Fellows said, “I’ll be leavin’ Yuma. Yeah, I think I’m gonna settle down someplace quiet.”
“Like Organ Pipe?” Bockwinkle asked.
“Very funny, Nick,” Fellows said. “Listen, we’ve got to get those two idiot deputies of yours to kill Adams.”
“Why them?” Bockwinkle asked.
“Because,” Fellows said, “they can do it legally. All you’ve got to do is tell them that he’s wanted and there’s a reward, and they can have it if they bring him in—dead or alive.”
“Will they do it?” Wynn asked.
“Of course they’ll do it,” Bockwinkle said. “They’re a couple of idiots.”
As they walked back to the sheriff’s office, Fellows said, “You know we’re gonna have to go with them, don’t you?”
“I know,” Bockwinkle said. “What about Wynn?”
“He’s no good with a gun.”
“Four to one, not bad odds,” Bockwinkle said.
“Yeah,” Fellows said. “Not bad.”
Clint grabbed a straight-backed wooden chair from the hotel lobby, took it outside with him, and sat. They were going to have to come after him, or take the chance he would expose them. He wasn’t doing this for Joe Hickey. Hickey was going to get his neck stretched eventually. No, this was for the people who lost everything when Organ Pipe burned down.
This was for whoever had sent him that message on the wind.
FORTY-THREE
“This is great!” Deputy Stone said, excitedly.
“Keep calm, boy,” Bockwinkle said. “You get too excited, you’re gonna end up dead.”
“Are you sure about this, Sheriff?” asked Deputy Bennett.
“We’re sure, Bennett,” Fellows said. He handed each deputy a shotgun from the gun rack.
“We could probably use some more help,” Bennett said. “What about Mike Callum? I could get—”
“I’m sure Callum’s dead, Bennett,” Fellows said. “I’m sure Adams killed him already.”
“What’s he done?” Stone asked. “Murder? Is it Mike Callum? Is that what we’re bringin’ him in for?”
“All you gotta know is this is your job, Stone,” Bockwinkle said. “Stop askin’ fool questions.”
“How are we gonna do this?” Bennett asked.
Bockwinkle looked at Fellows.
“He’ll concentrate on me, Fred,” the sheriff said. “That’ll give you an edge.”
“Right.”
“What about us?” Stone asked.
“Yeah, you, too,” Bockwinkle said. “You’ll have an edge.”
“All right!”
Bennett did not look as excited or pleased as Stone did about bringing in Clint Adams.
From the front window of his office Steve Wynn had a clear view of the hotel. He could see Clint Adams sitting out front. Goddamn if he wasn’t just waiting for them, looking just as calm and collected as you please.
If Adams managed to kill both Fellows and Bockwinkle, Wynn’s plan was to go out the back door, and just keep on going. He still had enough of the Organ Pipe bank money to start over somewhere else.
He settled down to watch the show.
“You boys are gonna stand between me and Fellows,” Bockwinkle instructed. “Understand?”
Bennett nodded and Stone said, “Sure.”
Bockwinkle looked at Fellows.
“This is what it all comes down to,” he said to his senior deputy.
“I know.”
“Whataya talkin’ about?” Stone asked.
“Never mind,” Bockwinkle said. “It’s time to go.”
Fellows knew he could’ve got up on a rooftop with a rifle, but that would have been an ambush. In front of the whole town. They had to make it look legal, or it was all over for him in Yuma.
“I’m ready,” he said.
Bockwinkle wished he had time to gather more men. But he’d been through this kind of thing before. As good as Adams was, maybe he wasn’t as good as they said he was. Four men with guns, that was a big disadvantage. One of them might even plug him by accident. He’d seen it happen before. The Gunsmith was going to have to rush his shots, and there might even be some hesitation when he realized he was shooting at four badges.
Bockwinkle knew he just had to wait for that one weak moment, and hope it would come.
Clint took out his gun, checked it, and then holstered it. He could see the front of the newspaper office from his chair. He was sure Steve Wynn was at the window, looking out, waiting for the action. He was either going to write about it or run from it.
Clint had one problem with what was about to happen. He’d be facing men wearing badges—four of them, if Bockwinkle and Fellows brought the other two deputies. If they did that, it would be a shame. Deputies Stone and Bennett had no idea what they were getting involved with. It was Clint’s hope that he’d be able to explain it to them, get them to step back from the action.
The other two, Bockwinkle and Fellows, their badges were tarnished. They didn’t deserve to be wearing badges at all. Clint wondered if he’d be able to talk them into taking them off.
He saw them now, walking down the street carrying shotguns. Four scatterguns could do a lot of damage, and some of that would be accidental.
He remained seated and calm as they approached. He hoped that the steady nerves would be on his side.
FORTY-FOUR
As the four “lawmen” stopped in front of the hotel, Clint could see the two deputies in the center sweating profusely.
“Hello, gents,” he said, not moving from his chair.
“Time for you to come quietly, Adams,” Bockwinkle said.
“On what charge?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” the sheriff said. “We’ll take care of all that once you’re in a nice cell.”
“You know I’m not going to any cell, Sheriff,” Clint said. He looked at the deputies. “You boys ready to die so the sheriff here can keep getting his payday from Fellows and Wynn?”
“Shut up, Adams!” Fellows said.
“What’s he mean?” Bennett asked.
“Never mind,” Fellows said. “Don’t listen to him.”
“You didn’t know?” Clint asked. “Your sheriff is getting paid by your senior deputy and the newspaper editor. He’s on the payroll, and they don’t want me telling anyone about it.”
“What’s goin’ on?” Stone asked, nervously.
“They’re willing to sacrifice you to try to shut me up,” Clint said. “You boys aren’t going to make it out of today alive unless you turn around now and walk away.”
Both men licked their lips and each exchanged a glance.
“Okay, Adams,” Bockwinkle said. “It’s time.” He thumbed back the hammers on his shotgun.
Clint stood up, and both deputies flinched.
“Back off, Deputies,” he said. “This is between your bosses and me. It doesn’t even have anything to do with the badges.”
Fellows thumbed back the hammers on his shotgun.
“You boys ready?” Fellows asked.
“Yeah,” Clint said, “you boys ready to die?”
Both
men bit their lips, exchanged another glance, and then Bennett took a step back. He was followed by Stone. Then another step. Then they both dropped their shotguns in the street and backed away, hands in the air.
“Now you, Sheriff,” Clint said. “You want to die to cover up for what Fellows and Wynn did in Organ Pipe?”
Bockwinkle licked his lips, and from the corner of his eye Clint saw Fellows raise the barrel of the shotgun ever so slightly. Clint drew and fired. His shot took Fellows in the chest, just below the badge. The shotgun discharged into the air, and Clint heard some glass break above his head.
Fellows went down onto his back, and Clint turned the barrel of his gun to Bockwinkle.
“Hold it, hold it,” the sheriff said. “Don’t shoot.”
“Drop the shotgun.”
The man did as he was told.
Clint looked at the other two deputies, who were under the gun of Sheriff Harry Patterson of Organ Pipe. Clint had not seen where Patterson had come from.
“Thought I’d keep them honest for you,” Patterson said.
“Much obliged, Sheriff,” Clint said. “Glad you’re here. This town’s going to need a temporary lawman.”
“Whataya mean—” Bockwinkle started, but Clint cut him off.
“All three of you,” he said. “Drop your gun belts and then your badges—now!”
Stone and Bennett obeyed. Bockwinkle hesitated, then followed.
“You want to take them over to the jail?” Clint asked.
“Sure thing, Adams.”
“I got one more visit to make.”
As Clint hurried to the livery, he knew there’d be nothing to hold the two deputies on. They’d just been unlucky enough to be caught up in something they had no real part of.
Bockwinkle would lose his badge, maybe do some time. That would be up to a judge.
As Clint got to the livery, Steve Wynn was just about to mount his hastily saddled horse. There were two bulging saddlebags already in place.
“That’s far enough, Wynn.”
The editor stopped and turned. He was unarmed.
“Lemme go, Adams,” he pleaded. “I’ll leave one of these saddlebags here.”
“You’ll leave them both,” Clint said. “Lucky the Organ Pipe sheriff is here to take them back to the bank. You, you’re going to jail. Let’s go.”
When the four men were safely in a cell, Sheriff Patterson took a look inside the saddlebags.
“Ain’t all of it, but it’s a lot,” he said.
“Might find some of it wherever Fellows lived,” Clint said. “You can take it all back with you.”
“Bank might have a reward available.”
“I’ll leave you an account number,” Clint said. “You can wire it to me.”
“You trust me?”
“Sure, why not?”
Clint headed for the door.
“Leavin’ town?”
“Just as soon as I can.”
“Ever find out who scrawled that message on that scrap of newspaper?”
“Nope,” Clint said. “Might’ve been Joe Hickey, for all I know, but it’s not important. It got me here, but I know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not grabbing for any more scraps of paper that are blowing on the wind.”
Watch for
CROSSING THE LINE
335th novel in the exciting GUNSMITH series from Jove
Coming in November!
Message on the Wind Page 11