“Looks like we got us a mess,” the sheriff said.
“Well,” Clint snapped, “at least I can see you’re not blind on top of being slow.”
“No need for taking that tone, mister. You want to tell me what happened?”
“Sure. Should I start with me getting shot at or should I tell you about the assassin I chased out of here while you were off twiddling your thumbs somewhere?”
The sheriff looked angry, but he wasn’t too quick to come to his own defense with a street full of locals glaring at him. “In case you didn’t know, I have been trying to track down the killer of two men.”
“I do know,” Clint said. “I talked to one of your deputies about that.”
“Save yer breath,” one of the locals said. “He don’t give a damn unless you work for the railroad or Western Union. The rest of us don’t pad his pockets enough to warrant any of his precious time.”
“That’s not true,” the sheriff said.
“The hell it ain’t!” another local said.
After that, the air was filled with more voices shouting so many words at the sheriff that they all blended together into a mush. What was easy enough to decipher was the fact that none of them were too happy about how the sheriff was doing his job.
“Everybody settle down,” the sheriff said as he walked over to Clint. “Give me some room to move and I’ll see what there is to see here.” When he was next to Clint, he added, “And you can stop riling these folks up before I haul you into jail for inciting a riot.”
“Are you kidding me?” Clint asked in disbelief.
Rather than try to back up the shallow threat he’d made, the sheriff squatted down to get a better look at Mackie. “You kill this man?” he asked.
“Actually, no,” Clint said. “I dropped the sign on him, but didn’t fire the shot that did him in.”
“That dead man shot first!” one of the louder locals said. “You let that man alone. He shot to defend himself!”
“Is that true?” the sheriff asked.
Clint let out a sigh, knowing all too well where this was headed. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you know why he took a shot at you?”
“Take a look at that gun.”
The sheriff did and let out a low whistle. Mackie’s gun lay right where its owner had dropped it. Although it wasn’t as ornate as Franco’s pistol, the plating had a fair amount of engraving, with a few small sapphires embedded where Mackie’s fingers would have been when he was holding the grip. “Looks expensive.”
“It also looks like the gun used by an assassin who tried to kill me and Johnny Blevin.”
“Johnny’s dead?”
The lawman’s question brought a few shocked gasps from the locals who’d gathered around. Whispers immediately started flowing in the crowd.
“No,” Clint said clearly enough for all to hear.
“And neither are you, I see,” the sheriff added. “That means this assassin of yours ain’t much of a killer. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll worry about the real deaths in my jurisdiction.”
“I thought the Pinkertons were the ones who worried about that,” Clint said.
“Whether it’s me or the Pinkertons,” the sheriff replied, “it ain’t you who should be concerned about legal affairs. There’s enough folks here vouching for you to keep you out of jail, but don’t push me any farther. You understand?”
“Yeah.”
“And don’t leave town.” The sheriff straightened up and held out his hand. “I’ll have that gun of yours.”
Clint could feel the blood running hot through his whole body. As much as he wanted to say to that sheriff, Clint settled for picking up the sapphire gun and slapping it into the lawman’s hand. “Here. Take this gun instead. You’ll probably be seeing another one like it soon enough.”
With that, Clint turned his back to the entire scene and walked away.
Between the dead body on the ground and all the angry locals gathered around it, the sheriff had more problems to worry about than chasing after Clint.
FORTY-ONE
When Johnny had lived in his house, it was alive and kicking. When Clint had responded to Johnny’s invitation, the house had been busting at the seams with rowdy drunks, willing women, and lively music. When Clint had returned after that, it was a quiet nesting place for a few scavenging killers.
Now the place felt like a ghost town.
Not only was the fence still broken, but even less of it was standing. Practically all the windows were shattered, and bodies lay strewn in the dirt. When Clint walked the property, he felt like he was trampling someone’s poorly kept grave.
It didn’t take long to survey the place. He rode around and could only find a few hungry critters darting for cover. Even Eclipse kept his head low, as if paying his respects to the dead and departed.
Clint swung down from the saddle so he could walk through the house. Despite the fact that he could practically see through the building from one window to another, he went inside and checked to be certain.
There was nobody scrounging around inside.
There was nobody hiding in the shadows.
There was just plain nobody.
Clint took a quick walk through the barn and was heading back to Eclipse when he saw another person on horseback coming up the trail. Before he even got a look at who it was, Clint drew the modified Colt and held it at the ready.
Judging by the wary smile on Victoria’s face, she hadn’t yet seen the gun in Clint’s hand. “Is that you, Clint?” she asked.
Clint holstered the Colt and stood with Eclipse’s reins in his hand. His other hand reached out to scratch the Darley Arabian’s neck. “It’s me.”
She rode up to him and looked around. Soon, she was shaking her head. “This place looks awful.”
“I know.”
“John wouldn’t like this one bit. He used to talk about how he was going to build this place up. I wonder what happened.”
“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Clint said with a chuckle. “From what I hear, he made out just fine.”
“That’s right. Western Union bought him out. It all happened so quick I barely even noticed. I don’t have much use for sending telegrams.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Keep it simple and there’s less to go wrong.”
“You say that like you know all about it.”
“Sometimes it feels like that’s all I know.”
She climbed down from her saddle and walked over to Clint. Her arms stretched out, and she slipped her fingers through his hair as if she somehow knew that would make him feel better. She couldn’t have been more right.
“I heard about what happened in town,” she said. “Sheriff Snetski isn’t keeping you here. You could just leave and forget this place ever existed.”
“That sounds like a dismissal.”
Victoria’s fingers stopped moving so she could pull Clint’s face closer to her own. “Not even close and you know it. You just look miserable and things around here are downright bleak. Folks have been screaming for Snetski to be replaced, but nobody’s willing to take the badge for themselves. Now that the Western Union finally got what they wanted, they’ll probably keep his dead ass right where it is.”
“His name’s Snetski?” Clint asked.
“Yep.”
Nodding, he said, “He seems like a Snetski.”
Victoria laughed, less at the joke and more at the lighter tone in Clint’s voice. “He does, doesn’t he?”
“What’s Western Union see in him?”
“They probably like how well he fills out his chair rather than looking into anyone else’s business. Don’t all companies like that sort of thing in a sheriff?”
“I suppose so,” Clint said. “You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing.”
She shrugged and looked over to the broken-down, empty house. “Lots of people around here have been talking about it. I doubt even Johnny knew his deal was pretty much the
talk of the town. The only thing folks were guessing about was how rich he got in the deal.”
“Are they upset he sold?”
“Nobody blames him. Some may be a little jealous, but there’s no hard feelings.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“It wasn’t so nice to hear about those men shooting at you earlier,” Victoria said with a shudder. “I was scared to death you were hurt.” Suddenly, she pulled in a breath and turned Clint around. “Dear Lord, you are hurt!”
“What?” Only when he turned at the waist to try and see what she was talking about did Clint feel the burn from where the bullet had creased his back. “I almost forgot about that.”
“Hasn’t anyone looked at this?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m taking you to the doctor.”
“Would you mind bandaging me up?” Clint asked.
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“Then there’s no need for a doctor.”
“Don’t be stubborn. Let’s at least get somewhere clean.”
Clint dug around in his saddlebags to find a roll of bandages and his canteen. “I’d rather stay here.”
“Why? There’s nothing here, and something over there looks like a dead body.”
Rather than tell her that’s exactly what it was, Clint said, “If there’s any more of those assassins left, they’ll probably be coming back here. It’s the only spot where they might find a hint as to where Johnny went.”
“Did he leave anything like a letter or such?”
“I don’t think so, but an assassin wouldn’t know that. Right about now, they’d be getting desperate for anything they could find.”
“Like Johnny’s friend who rode with him out of town?” Victoria asked sternly. “If they’re after information about Johnny, you’re the best source of it around here. Everyone knows that.”
“I’m also the best chance he’s got of getting to where he needs to go without someone tracking him down and putting a bullet in him. So long as they keep coming after me, there aren’t as many going after him. There might not even be any who know where to look for him.”
“You must be a good friend of his,” she said.
Clint nodded a bit and then shrugged. “He’s a good guy and I told him I’d watch his back. I also don’t like the thought of a bunch of assholes shooting their guns like they’ve got nobody to answer to, especially when they shoot at me.”
“If the assassins are here, or if there’s any left alive, isn’t Johnny already far away from them?”
“These seem to be more than just hired guns. They’re more organized. They just might be able to send someone out to another state with a telegram placed at the right time or a signal passed to the right person.”
“Don’t you think they would have been to this house already?”
Glancing over at the body laying not too far away, Clint said, “Probably.”
“Then if these killers are so smart, why would they come back?”
Clint thought for a few seconds, but was unable to come up with a good answer. The best he could do was “Good point.”
FORTY-TWO
“How’s the new room?” the man behind the desk asked.
Clint was walking through the hotel lobby carrying a small bundle of ham sandwiches he’d gotten from the place’s kitchen. Compared with how he’d started his day, he was a new man. His wound was cleaned and bandaged. He’d stretched out and rested his eyes for a bit. He was even feeling good enough to smile back at the clerk when he said, “Just fine. Any problem with our arrangement?”
“Not at all. You sure we can’t convince you to run for sheriff?”
Laughing, Clint walked to the stairs that led to the second floor. “I’ll think it over.”
“You do that! Oh, and don’t forget this. It was just brought over.”
Clint walked back to the desk and took the folded paper the clerk was holding out to him. He got it open, saw the letterhead, and asked, “This is a telegram and it just arrived? Isn’t the Western Union office closed by now?”
“It is, but they sent a runner out to make deliveries before it got too late. Things are kind of a mess over at that office.”
“Yeah, I suppose they are.” After reading more of what was written on the paper, Clint grinned.
“Nothing bad, I hope,” the clerk said.
“Not at all. Thanks.”
When Clint got to his room and opened the door, he found Victoria waiting there for him. She was dressed in a thin white slip, and she immediately rushed over to take the sandwiches from him.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“Look at what’s in your hands. That should answer your question.”
“You were just supposed to get some water. Actually, you weren’t supposed to even do that.”
“Relax. This cut on my back isn’t anything worth all this fuss.”
“It’s more than just a cut,” she muttered. Still, even she couldn’t justify saying much more since she’d been the one to clean up the crease on Clint’s back and wrap it in bandages. The bullet had torn a bloody gash down his body, but it was only a nasty-looking flesh wound.
“Someone’s bringing the water,” Clint said. “And along the way, I got hungry. I got something for you, too.”
That brightened Victoria’s face a bit. “Really? What did you get me?”
“Ham sandwiches. It’s all they had left in the kitchen. They offered to toss a steak on the fire, but I wouldn’t let them go through the trouble.”
Victoria laughed and unwrapped the sandwiches. “Folks around here really want you to stay. You’d make a fine sheriff.” Looking up at him, she added, “And it wouldn’t be too hard. This place hasn’t seen so much gun-fire since . . . well . . . ever.”
“All the excitement’s just riled everyone up.”
“That and Sheriff Snetski is looking to hire himself out to anyone willing to pay.”
Clint took a sandwich, bit into it, and winced. “I don’t know if there’s any real reason Western Union would want to buy a crooked sheriff. They do just fine on their own. Besides, when push came to shove they hired the Pinkertons to represent their interests.”
Victoria’s eyes shot open and she jumped up from where she’d been sitting on the edge of the bed. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. The Pinkerton man’s here. He arrived while you were sleeping.”
“I was only resting my eyes.”
“I guess you always snore like that when you rest your eyes,” she said to chide him. “Anyway, the sheriff’s been showing a stranger around to where that sign fell down and that man was shot. He’s dressed in a nice suit and everyone’s been saying he’s a Pinkerton. You want to go see him?”
“Eh, if he wants to talk to me, he should be able to find me. That’s what those Pinkertons do.”
“You don’t seem too worked up about it anymore.”
“My part in this is done,” Clint said plainly.
“And when did you decide that?”
“As soon as I read this.” With a grin, Clint produced the telegram that he’d been given at the front desk.
The telegram read:
Am boarding the boat now
Safe and sound
Thanks for everything
JB
“What boat?” Victoria asked.
“Doesn’t even matter. What does matter is that he’s on it, and if he didn’t run into any assassins by now, he’s out of their reach.”
“You’re sure that’s from him?”
Clint nodded. “He and I are the only ones knowing he was headed for a boat. I hoped to draw enough fire for him to get there safely and he’s there. My job’s done.”
Frowning, Victoria asked, “So that means you’ll be leaving soon?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Well then, I guess we should make the best out of what time we have left.” As she said that, Victoria took the sandwich from Clint’s hand and tossed it onto a nea
rby table. She unbuttoned her blouse and reached for the lantern on the wall.
As the light faded away, Clint could feel her pulling him closer to the bed. His eyes weren’t adjusted to the dark just yet, but he could hear the rustle of her clothes being pulled off. Soon, he could feel the tug of her hands on his belt. Just as his jeans were being pulled down, there was a knock on the door.
“That’s probably our water,” he said.
“If we’re quiet, they’ll just leave it.”
Clint was more than willing to do just that, but he waited until he actually heard the sound of something being set in the hall just outside the door and the receding footsteps that followed. Opening the door a crack, Clint saw the pitcher of water as well as the maid who was already heading for the stairs.
“All right,” Clint said as he closed the door, locked it, and turned toward the bed. “Where were we?”
FORTY-THREE
Even after he’d adjusted to the dark, Clint still couldn’t see much more than shapes amid the shadows. The curtains were drawn. The moon was barely a sliver outside. There wasn’t even enough light trickling in from the cracks in the doorway to be of any use.
But Clint didn’t need to see anything. His other senses had more than enough to keep him busy. He could smell the scent of Victoria’s skin and hair as she undressed him and pulled him down onto the bed. He could feel the smooth texture of her breasts and belly as he moved his hands along the front of her body.
His fingers drifted through the downy patch of hair between her legs, and soon he could taste the tender lips of her pussy. He heard her moan and then call his name urgently.
“Come up here, Clint,” she whispered. “I want you inside of me.”
Clint climbed onto the bed and felt her legs open and then wrap around him. His cock was already rigid, and the moment he felt it brush against her damp pussy, it got even harder. Victoria’s fingers gently closed around his shaft and guided him into her. With one push, he was in, and he slid all the way until he completely filled her.
She made a contented sound that was close to a purr, and her fingernails scraped across Clint’s shoulders. He pumped in and out of her, taking a slow, easy rhythm so he could savor every last moment. Propping himself on one elbow, Clint used his other hand to fondle her breasts. He teased her nipples until she began writhing beneath him.
The Sapphire Gun Page 14