by JR Roberts
“And then we kill them?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said. “I may keep them alive to bring us more money.”
“Do you think the government would send more money?” Gately asked.
“If they want their dear Mr. Lincoln’s remain back they will.”
“But … are we ever gonna really send it back?”
“No, my dear, sweet Captain,” she said, “we’re going to have a great big bonfire with it when we’re done. How does that strike you?”
“That strikes me just fine, ma’am,” Gately said. “And, uh, the Colonel?”
“Don’t you worry about the Colonel, Captain,” she said. “Just trust that he is in my very good care.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, off you go, you sweet, boy. And don’t waste all that sweetness on your whore. I may be wanting some more of it myself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
When Clint and Roper reached the rocks where they had hidden the money they reined their horses in and waited, looking around.
“Nobody followed from town,” Roper said.
“I’m surprised,” Clint said.
“Why?” Roper asked. “They know we’re bringing the money in.”
“Half the money,” Clint said. “The only way they get the other half is to givce us the casket.”
“Which they will then try to take back again, no doubt,” Roper said.
“Well deal with that when the time comes,” Clint said. “Right now we need to dig up half that money.” He dismounted. “You keep watch while I do that.”
“Got it.”
Clint uncovered the saddlebags, removed one set, and then covered the other one up again while Roper kept watch so nobody could sneak up on them. When he was done he tied the saddlebags to his saddle a remounted.
“Let’s get back,” he said.
Carefully studying their surrounding they directed their horses back to Segundo.
Captain Gatley sat in a chair in front of the hotel while he and his men waited for Clint and Roper to return. His legs felt week from what Gemma had done to his cock while he was in the house with her. Not that he minded. The woman really knew what she was doing, and she was fine looking. And the closer he got to her, the closer he got to being in command. It was clear that Gemma was cutting her husband out of the picture, which suited Gately.
He had several of his soldiers on his side of the street, still more on the other side. And there was a detachment of men staying with the casket. The only way Clint Adams and Talbot Roper would leave town with the dead President was if Gately and his men let them—and they would, only to take it back somewhere on the trail.
“And,” Gemma had told him, “if it’s at all possible, kill them while you’re at it—and then come back here and tell me all about it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And then we’ll relax together for a little while. How does that sound?”
“Just fine, ma’am.”
So he had that to look forward to, as well.
Gemma Wentworth changed back into her britches and shirt, pulled on her boots. A dress wouldn’t do for what came next.
It was too bad Clint Adams had to be killed. It would have been nice spend some more time with him. She did have that sweet boy to use, but Clint Adams was a man. There was a big difference. Gately was sweet tasting, but Adams had that musky man smell and flavor to him. That was what she liked, and what she hadn’t been getting from her husband for years. If only she could win Clint over to her side, but that didn’t seem likely. So he and Roper were going to have to succumb to the superior force, and die.
The house had two bedrooms. One was hers, where she was now. She left that room, walked to the other and entered. In the bed lay her husband. He had a wound from the war that had never healed correctly. Doctors said they couldn’t do anything about it, and said it would even eventually kill him. They seemed to be getting close to that. His time in Springfield seemed to have been his last burst of energy, but ever since they had traveled to Segundo he had been sickly, and useless.
“Well, darling,” she said, “how are we feeling today?”
He stared up at her from the bed, his eyes clouded by pain.
“If you’d get me a proper doctor—”
“You’ve had proper doctors, dear,” she said. “They’ve all said the same thing.”
“So you say,” Wentworth said, “but you would like it if I died.”
“Now,” she said, “if that were true I could simply kill you while you lay there, helpless.”
He actually chuckled, then grimaced with pain.
“Not your style Gemma. You don’t do your own killing.”
“Perhaps not,” she said, “but I have men who would do it for me.”
Wentworth coughed and said, “Those are my men.”
“Ah, but the sweet Captain Gately, he’s all mine, dear,” she said, smiling. “He’ll do anything I want him to do.”
“Whore!” he spat.
“Oh, he’s got one of those,” she said. “But I wanted you to know that the ransom money is here. We’ll have it by the end of the day. All of it.”
“For the last time, Gemma,” he said. “Send to Trinidad for a proper doctor for me.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “We’ll see, Samuel. Let’s just wait and see.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Once again Clint and Roper rode into town. This time the street were empty. The denizen of Segundo sensed that trouble was coming, and they had taken to their homes, or closed up the doors and windows of their shops.
Clint and Roper saw Gately sitting in front of the hotel and rode up to him. His men came to attention, kept their eyes on the two men.
“You have the money?” Gately asked.
“Half, as we agreed.”
Gately waved at Morehouse, who stepped into the street to peer into the saddlebags as Clint held them open. He started to reach in, but Clint said, “Un-uh,” and closed the saddlebag.
Corporal More house got back up onto the boardwalk and said to the Captain, “It’s there.”
“Very well.” Gately got up from his chair. “Let’s walk our friends over to their prize.”
The Captain and his Corporal took the lead. Clint and Roper rode behind them, with the other men taking up the rear. Clint and Roper didn’t like having those guns behind them, but didn’t think the men would try anything until all the money was involved.
They followed Captain Gately toward the end of town, toward the Wentworth house, but did not go past the town line. Instead, they headed for a large livery stable that had two men in front of it. Wearing grey jackets, they were on guard.
“Open the doors,” Gately said.
“Yes, sir.”
The two men opened the double livery doors.
“Sir,” one of them said, “the lady is inside.”
“Good.”
Gately turned to Clint and Roper. “You can dismount here.”
They did. Clint untied his saddlebags and slung them over his shoulder. He knew if they wanted to take them away from him there was nothing he could do, but nobody made a move.
They followed Gately in, the other soldiers right behind them. Inside they saw a buckboard with a tarp throw over the back. It was surrounded by soldiers—or rather, men in mended Confederate jackets—and standing right behind it, her arms folded, was Gemma Wentworth.
“Here is your precious President Lincoln,” Gemma said.
“Uncover the casket.”
Gemma waved and two men leaped up onto the buckboard and removed the tarp. The casket was double to the one he had seen in the tomb.
“Do you want to open it?” Gemma asked.
Clint and Roper exchanged looks. After all these years would there be anything inside that could be recognizable?
“Can we be alone with it?” Clint asked.
“We can’t do th—” Gately started
, but Gemma cut him off, rolling her eyes.
“The stable will be surrounded. Let them be alone with their precious President.”
“Thank you,” Clint said.
Gemma waved and all the solders moved to the front door. When they were outside they heard Gately order, “Surround the entire building!”
When the doors closed the interior was lit only by a few lamps.
“Why do we want to be alone with this?” Roper asked.
“I don’t know,” Clint said.
He climbed onto the back of the buckboard so he could examine the casket closely.
“It doesn’t look like it’s been open.”
“Is it the right casket, or isn’t it?” Roper asked.
“I don’t know!” Clint said. “I haven’t seen the real one in years. I did see a copy they put in its place so no one knows the real one’s gone, and this looks just like that one.”
“Looks like a Presidential casket,” Roper said. “Lots of gold.”
“These screws have not been tampered with.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if they hated him so much,” Roper said, “why not tamper with the body?”
“I don’t know,” Clint said. “Maybe they’re more concerned with the money.”
“I think Mrs. Wentworth is,” Roper said. “She’s not so interest in helping the South to ride again.”
“But these men are,” Clint said. “How do you think they’d feel if they knew she wanted the money for herself?”
“They’d kill her.”
Clint nodded.
“That the way you want to play it?”
“That might be the way we have to play it, to avoid a prolonged gun battle.”
“These men … the ones who are trained are older, and the young one probably haven’t been trained.”
“So you think we can handle them?”
“Under the right circumstances.”
“We better figure out a way,” Clint said, “to manipulate the circumstances.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Clint and Roper opened the stable door. Gemma and Gately turned to face them, as did three men with guns.
“Okay,” Clint said.
“You’re satisfied?” Gemma asked.
“Yes.”
“The money, then.”
Clint turned his saddlebags upside down and dumped the money out onto the ground.
“I need my saddlebags.”
Gemma said to Gately, “Have one of the men fetch a bag from inside.”
Gately waved and one of them went in and came back with a burlap bag.
“Pick up the money,” she said.
“Morehouse,” Gately said.
The Corporal took the bag, went down on one knee and put the money into the sack.
“Is that half?” she asked.
“Looks like it,” Morehouse said.
“Is it or isn’t it, Corporal!” Gately snapped.
“It is.”
“Give it to me,” Gemma said.
The solder handed over the bag.
“Hook a team up to the buckboard for them,” she said. “Ride out with them to get the rest of the money.” She looked at Clint. “Once we have the rest of the money you can keep going.”
“All right.”
“Get some of the other men,” Gately said to Morehouse. “Hook up a team.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be at the house,” Gemma said to Gately. “Let me know when it’s over.” She looked at Clint again. “Too bad we didn’t have more time together.”
“That’s okay with me,” Clint told her.
She stared at him, then nodded shortly, turned and walked away. She presented a pretty picture walking away from them in pants. All the men paused to watch her, except the one who had gone inside to hook up the team.
“You and you, saddle horses for us,” Gately told some of the remaining men. “The rest of you stay here and watch them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gately looked at Clint and Roper.
“We’ll be ready to move out shortly.”
“You don’t mind if we watch, do you?” Clint asked.
“No,” Gately said, “that’s fine.”
Clint and Roper went in to watch the men hook up the team, and to make sure there wasn’t a switch of the casket.
When the buckboard was hooked to the team one of the soldiers drove it out of the livery. The casket was once again covered by a tarp. Clint looked underneath just to be sure.
“I can drive the buckboard,” Roper offered. “That’ll leave both of your hands empty.”
“Good idea.” They both knew if there was gunplay Clint was the one who should have two hands free.
From around the corner they heard the sound of horses, and then six men with grey coats appeared.
“These men will accompany you,” Gately said. “Corporal Morehouse will be in command.”
“Can you trust them with fifty thousand dollars?” Clint asked.
“These men are loyal to the South,” Gately said. “They can be trusted.”
Clint looked at them. Morehouse looked old enough to have been in the war. Of the other six men, two might have been in the war as teens. The other four were too young—younger even than Captain Gately.
“Well,” Clint said, loudly, “what do you say, gentlemen? Let’s go get the rest of that money.”
Chapter Forty
Roper led the way, with a solder on either side of him.
They had to stay to the main road because of the buckboard, which meant they wouldn’t be able to drive right up to the hiding place where the money was. They were going to have to stop, and have the men dismount rather than let them ride up to the place.
“Tal, why don’t you stay with the body?” Clint suggested. “I’ll take these men to the money.”
“Fine with me.”
“Stay with him,” Morehouse said to two of the men.
“Yes, sir.”
“The rest of you with me.” Morehouse looked at Clint. “Lead the way.”
Clint headed for the money, followed by five armed men. Roper was left behind with two armed men.
As Clint made his way to the rock hiding place he wondered how soon the men would make their move. There was no way they were going to let him and Roper leave with the body. What had worked in their favor was the fact that they hadn’t had to manipulate the situation, at all. It was Gemma, and Gately, who had made the mistake of sending only seven men with them—unless there were more minutes behind them.
Whatever happened would have to happen fast, before other forces could arrive.
“Come on, Adams,” Morehouse said, “stop stallin’.”
“I’m not stalling,” Clint said. “I’m trying to remember—”
“You were just here,” Morehouse said. “You’re stallin’.”
“Wait,” Clint said, “I think it’s there—yes, there,” he pointed, “that pile of rocks.”
“Dig it out,” Morehouse said to two of his men.
Clint stood back and got ready. As soon as they saw the money they were sure to turn their guns on him. He knew Gemma was counting on that, and she won either way it went.
The men tossed the rocks away, uncovered the opening, reached in and came out with the saddlebags.
“Come on, come on,” Morehouse said, “look inside.”
The men did, and one of them said, “It’s full of money.”
The other man started to reach for his gun, and Clint could hear the other men bringing their rifles to bear, but as he went to draw his own gun Morehouse called out, “Wait, hold it!”
Everyone stopped.
“Adams, they went us to kill you and your friend,” the Corporal said. “As soon as they hear shots here my other men are to kill Roper.”
“Why are you telling me something I already know?”
“Because I—you know?”
“Of course,” Clint said. “Gemma Wentworth is not about to let us ride away alive.”
“Well, I’ll let you ride away alive,” Morehouse said. “My men and I will take the money, and we’ll go our separate ways. What do you say?”
“I say no.”
“You didn’t even think about it!”
“I don’t have to,” Clint said. “I’m not letting Gemma, or your Captain, get away with anything.”
“So go back to town and get the other half of the money from them. They’ve got a force of about fourteen left there without us. Just let us go with this money.”
“I can’t do that, Morehouse,” Clint said, “but I tell you what I will do. You boys know who I am. I think I can take the five of you. If not, I’ll kill three, maybe four. But I’ll let you all go if you’ll leave the money behind.”
“Leave the money?” Morehouse asked.
“That’s right.”
“I can’t do that,” Morehouse said.
“I can,” one man said, raising his hand. “I don’t wanna go against you, Mr. Adams. If you’ll let me walk away, I will.”
“Anybody else?” Clint asked.
“You can’t—” Morehouse started.
“Yeah,” another man said—actually more of a boy, “me. This has all got out of hand, and that woman is crazy.”
“You’ve got that right, son,” Clint said. “You two drop your guns.”
They did.
“Now just stand aside. If you go back to the wagon now Mr. Roper might kill you by accident. When this is over I’ll take you down to your horses.”
The two men raised their hands and stepped away from their guns. They were the two men who had dug out the money, but apparently even the sight of it wasn’t enough to make them risk their lives.
“Now it’s the three of you,” Clint said.
“Fifty thousand, men,” Morehouse said, “and now it’s a bigger split without them.” He indicated the two men who had dropped their weapons.
The other two soldiers exchanged a glance, then looked at Morehouse.
“We already got our rifles in our hands,” one of them said.
“Yeah, you do,“ Clint said, “which means I’ll have to kill the two of you first.”