by JR Roberts
Surprised, Mayor Cates looked up from his desk as Gator crossed the room to him.
“We figured it out,” he said to the politician.
“Figured what out?” he asked.
“Your connection with Stoll,” Gator said. “You’re the one who brought him here, and you’re backin’ him.”
Cates’ eyes became shifty as he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And what do you mean “we” figured it out? Just who’s we?”
“Me, and Clint Adams,” Gator said. “The Gunsmith, in case you don’t know.”
“I know who the Gunsmith is.”
“Well, he’s after your Father Stoll, and so am I,” Gator said. “And, by the way, so is Father Paul.”
“The priest?”
“He wants his flock back.”
Cates looked up at Gator from his chair.
“I don’t know why you’re coming to me with this, Jenkins,” he said, finally.
“That’s easy,” Gator said. “You and Stoll are in this together. And he’s got gunmen workin’ for him, in his disciples. One of those men is Earl Sinclair, and he’s about to learn the error of his ways.”
“And how is that?” Cates asked.
“Well,” Gator said, “if you take a look out your window you might just see.”
Frowning, Cates turned his chair, stood up and looked out the window. Across the street, in front of the undertaker’s office, he saw Clint Adams sitting in a chair. And then, walking up the street, another man, one he didn’t know.
“Is that—” he started.
“That’s Earl Sinclair,” Gator said, “the gunman Albert Stoll brought in to kill the Gunsmith. Why don’t you and I watch and see what happens?”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Across the street Clint watched as Earl Sinclair came walking confidently toward him. Instead of rising to meet him he decided to sit back in his chair and wait.
Clint remembered years ago that Dick Sinclair gave him no alternative, no choice but to kill him, or be killed. Now, he could see the same look on the face of the son, Earl. He looked around, up, down and across the street, but it looked to him like Sinclair was alone.
Sinclair stopped in front of Clint, remaining in the street rather than stepping up on the boardwalk.
“You called me out, Adams?” the younger man asked.
“Not exactly, Sinclair,” Clint said. “I wanted to give you a chance to walk away—”
“Walk Away?” Sinclair asked, cutting Clint off. “There’s no chance of that. My family’s been waitin’ for the right time to get you for killing my father, and this is it.”
“You really think so?”
“I happen to think this is exactly the right time,” Sinclair said. “Right now, Adams.” He pointed out to the middle of the street. “Right here.”
Clint studied the young man, saw the hate and determination in his eyes. He didn’t think he had the right words to talk Sinclair out of this, but he was determined to try.
“You’re being used here, Sinclair,” Clint said. “By Stoll, and his crew, by the mayor ... ” Clint pointed across the street at City Hall.
“Nobody’s usin’ me, Adams,” Sinclair said. “I’m here because it’s time, plain and simple.”
“I really don’t want to kill another member of the Sinclair family, Earl,” Clint said. “I don’t want your whole family coming after me. I was sorry to have to kill your father, but he gave me no choice.”
“And I’m not givin’ you a choice, either,” Sinclair said. “In the street, now.”
Sinclair walked out to the center of the street. Clint looked around. Obviously, word had gotten around. There were very few people out and about and the ones who were there were lining the street, watching.
And as he looked up at the window of the mayor’s office he saw Mayor Cates and Gator Jenkins, also watching.
Clint stood up and looked out at Earl Sinclair. From this moment on his entire attention had to be focused on that man, because at any moment he could go for his gun.
He stepped down off the boardwalk, determined now to make a statement to Albert Stoll, Mayor Cates, and all the disciples. He was the Gunsmith, and he wasn’t afraid of or intimidated by men with guns, or by men who thought they were gods.
~*~
Dooley got to the compound and found Erskine outside the barracks.
“Sinclair’s goin’ after the Gunsmith right now!”
“How did that happen?” Erskine demanded.
“The Gunsmith came to the saloon and called him out.”
“What are the other men doin’?”
“Well ... we let Sinclair go on his own, but then everybody started talkin’ about it, and we figured he shouldn’t go alone, so they all went out to find him, and they sent me to tell you.”
“Damn it!” Erskine said. “Come on, we’re gonna have to tell Stoll!”
Together, they ran toward Stoll’s residence.
~*~
“Let me lay this out for you, Mr. Mayor,” Gator said, as they watched. “If Adams kills Sinclair, we’re gonna explain to the town how you’re involved with Stoll. You brought him here for some political purpose.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“We just have to plant the seed,” Gator said, “and then Stoll and his Kingdom will crumble.” Gator hoped.
“And tell me something, Jenkins,” Mayor Cates asked. “What will you do if Sinclair guns down the Gunsmith?”
“Well then,” Gator said, “I’ll leave your office, and just keep on goin’.” Gator didn’t see what other options he would have.
~*~
Tully went to Father Paul and told him how he was feeling.
“Odd,” the priest said, “I’ve been feelin’ the same way. We have to do somethin’.”
“Do you have a gun?” Tully asked.
“No,” Father Paul said, “I won’t be able to do that.”
“Well,” Tully said, “let’s find out what’s going on. And if there’s shooting, you’ll just have to keep your head down.
~*~
With Cahill in the lead, the disciples turned onto the main street and saw ahead of them one man standing in the center. Then they saw another man step into the street and start moving toward the middle.
“We’re too late,” Grey said.
“Maybe not,” Cahill said. “We can still—”
“Still what?” Miller asked, cutting him off. “Get involved? Look, if Sinclair kills Adams, we still get paid.”
“And if Adams kills Sinclair?” Cahill asked.
“Well,” Miller said, “then we can gun him down. There’s still seven of us. And I, for one, really wanna see this.”
“Yeah,” Grey said, “so do I. Don’t you, Cahill?”
Cahill looked at his comrades, then admitted, “Well, yeah, I kinda do.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
When Clint turned to face Sinclair he saw the group of men further up the street.
“Looks like we’ve got more of an audience,” he said.
“I’m not turnin’ around,” Sinclair said.
“You ever hear anything about me shooting men in the back?” Clint asked.
Sinclair hesitated, then risked a look behind him.
“Those the rest of your boys?”
“They ain’t my boys,” Sinclair said, facing front again. “They’re Erskine’s boys—or that Mr. Stoll he works for.”
“Don’t you work for him, too?”
“I’ll take his money,” Sinclair said, “but the only reason I’m here is that I heard you were in town.”
“Word gets around.”
“Yeah.”
“What about—”
“Let’s stop the talk, Adams,” Sinclair said. “And just you remember, this bullet is from my old man.”
“Oh, I’ll remember, Earl,” Clint said. “Because I’ll be around to remember. You won’t.”
“We’ll see about that.”
&
nbsp; Clint kept his eyes on Sinclair’s shoulders. He preferred to be close to an adversary. They usually predicted their move for him with their shoulders, but sometimes it was the eyes. He was too far away to see the eyes, so he just kept watching Sinclair’s shoulder. If he was like his father, he’d have a huge hitch there, just before he drew his gun.
And there it was, what Clint would come to think of from this day forward—after having killed two members of the Sinclair family—as The Sinclair Hitch.
He drew his gun cleanly, swiftly, and fired with his normal deadly accuracy. The bullet hit Earl Sinclair in the chest, just where his heart was—exactly where the bullet had struck his father.
Jesus, Clint thought, as Sinclair crumpled to the street, he had now killed a father and a son. He had killed brothers before—at the same time, for that matter—but he didn’t remember having killed a father and a son.
And if he had, and couldn’t remember, that was sad.
~*~
Everything froze, and Gator moved, because he had seen the men at the head of the street. He ran to get down there with his shotgun before the seven of them opened up on Clint Adams.
~*~
Tully and Father Paul had come along at just the right time, got themselves a position in with some other people across the street from the undertaker’s office.
They watched from there.
“Jesus!” Father Paul said, surprising Tully.
“I know,” Tully said. “That was fast.”
~*~
Erskine, Dooley and Albert Stoll arrived at the other end of the street just as Clint drew and fired.
“Ah, Christ!” Stoll said, as Sinclair fell. “I don’t suppose that’s Adams hitting the ground.”
“Nope,” Erskine said.
“I didn’t think so.”
Dooley then said what was on everybody’s mind.
“Whatawedonow?”
~*~
Clint quickly ejected the empty shells from his gun and reloaded, keeping his eyes on the men at the head of the street. Then he turned sideways so he could look the other way, and still keep an eye on them. He saw the three men standing there—Stoll and Erskine, and one other.
At that point the door to City Hall slammed open and Gator came flying out, shotgun in hand. He ran into the street and took up position next to Clint.
“What now?” he asked.
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
More people were lining up on either side of the street to watch. From one pack Tully separated himself, and ran to join Clint and Gator, gun in hand.
“You’re supposed to be at home,” Clint said.
“I know it,” Tully said. “Kind of wish I was.”
“Me, too,” Gator said.
~*~
The seven disciples led by Cahill looked past Clint and the fallen Sinclair.
“There’s Erskine,” he said.
“And Stoll,” Miller pointed out.
“Christ,” Grey said, “that was fast.”
“What now?” somebody else asked.
“Well,” Cahill said, “Erskine’s here, with Stoll. Let them call the play.”
So they waited.
~*~
Clint looked up the street at the seven disciples, as did Gator and Tully.
“What are they waitin’ for?” Gator asked.
“Their bosses are here,” Clint said. “They’re waiting.”
And then something nobody was expecting happened.
Father Paul stepped in the street and walked to the dead body, his hands spread, and empty.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“You’ve all seen what happened here,” Father Paul called out. “A man has died. And it was only days ago that a woman died. There should be no more death. Not in the name of one man’s ambitions.”
He pointed his finger at the City Hall window right above the front door, where Mayor Cates was still watching from.
“I don’t know how many of you have wondered, as I have, how Albert Stoll came to be here in Winslow, spreading the word of his Kingdom. Well, I’ve recently discovered the answer to that question. He was brought here by Mayor Cates—paid by the Mayor.”
The people across the street from City Hall looked up at the window. The people on the same side, who couldn’t see the window, stirred, some of them stepping into the street to look.
“That’s right,” the priest went on. “Aggie Kimball died because of a man’s political agenda. This man,” he pointed down at Sinclair, “was brought here to kill Clint Adams, because Adams dared to question Albert Stoll’s presence here.” Now he pointed up and down the street. “You see Mr. Stoll there, with two armed men ... and there are even more armed men, who also work for him ... they are his disciples. They enforce his word.” He raised his hands. “I myself have enforced the word of God, but I’ve done it alone, and without weapons.” He touched the crucifix that was hanging from his neck. “This has been my only weapon. It is the only weapon I will ever need--“ and he pointed at Stoll again, “—against evil!”
~*~
Clint watched as the seven disciples up the street began to fidget, moving from leg to leg. He knew what they were thinking. This wasn’t good for them. People were listening to the priest. At that point he noticed Sheriff Gaines in with a crowd of people. He was also listening.
~*~
Stoll realized that people were listening.
“Do something,” he said to Erskine.
“Like what?”
“Kill that priest,” Stoll said.
“Gun him down in the middle of the street, with people watchin’?” Erskine asked.
“You’re being paid!” Stoll snapped.
“Not enough for that,” Erskine said. “You’re on your own. I’m done.”
Erskine walked away and Dooley followed.
Stoll stood alone.
~*~
“What’s Erskine doin’?” Miller asked.
“He’s ... he’s leavin’,” Cahill said.
“He’s what?” Grey asked.
“He is,” Miller said, “he’s walkin’ away.”
One of the other men asked, “Ain’t it Stoll who has the money?”
“I was workin’ for Erskine,” Cahill said. “You wanna work for some crazy religious leader, be my guest. I’m lightin’ out.”
Cahill turned and walked away, followed by Miller, then Grey and one by one, by the other men ...
~*~
“They’re leavin’,” Gator said to Clint. “The disciples are leavin’.”
“Because Clint killed Sinclair,” Tully said.
“That’s part of it,” Clint said. “I think it’s mostly because of Father Paul.”
They heard the door to City Hall open again and the mayor stepped out. Clint had to give him credit for not cowering in his office.
“There’s your culprit,” Father Paul said, pointing. “There’s the man who brought you a false prophet!”
The townspeople turned and looked at Mayor Cates.
“He’s crazy,” Cates said. “Don’t listen to that crazy priest. Listen to Stoll, to Father Stoll, he—” Cates stopped when he looked down the street and saw that Stoll was gone.
“Come on,” Clint said to Gator and Tully, and they started running toward the compound.
~*~
When they reached it Brenda was at the gate, which was wide open. Some people were leaving, carrying their belongings, and others were standing around, looking at each other in confusion.
“Where is he?” Clint asked Brenda.
“He went to his house,” Brenda said. “Yelled somethin’ about us all bein’ on our own from now on. What happened?”
“He’s done,” Clint said. “Stoll’s done.”
“Clint killed the gunfighter, and the other disciples ran,” Gator said.
“And Father Paul has taken the town in his hands,” Clint added.
“Is Stoll packing?” Tully asked.
“Prob
ably,” Brenda said, “but he’s got money—lots of it. He took it from the people.”
“Oh,” Clint said, “he’s not leaving town with that money.”
He headed for the residence, with Gator, Tully and Brenda behind him.
As they ran through the open front door, Stoll was coming toward them, carrying a carpetbag that looked packed full, in his left hand, and a gun in his right.
“Out of my way!” Stoll snapped.
“Take it easy, Father Stoll,” Clint said. “You’re not going anywhere. At least, not until you’ve returned all that you’ve taken from this town.”
“I didn’t take anything,” Stoll shouted. “They gave it to me, like sheep.”
“See?” Gator said. “Flock ... sheep.”
Clint ignored him.
“I assume that bag is filled with money, not shirts,” Clint said. “Drop it and you can go.”
Stoll stared at Clint with shiny, crazy eyes.
“You try to use that gun and you won’t make it,” Clint said. “I guarantee it.”
Stoll licked his lips, his eyes darted about, and then he seemed to come to a decision. His shoulders slumped. First he dropped the gun, and then the bag.
“Now get out of my way,” he said, more calmly. “Let me go.”
“Sure thing,” Clint said, and stepped aside.
“Really?” Gator asked. “You’re just gonna let him go?”
Stoll darted past them, came up short when the sheriff appeared in the doorway.
“I am,” Clint said, “he’s not.”
The Gunsmith Series by J. R. Roberts
The Lincoln Ransom
New Mexico Powder Keg
Kidnap a Gunsmith
Lawman’s Sunset
Three Rings of Trouble
Blood Coast
The Put-Up Job
The Dodge City Inheritance
The Gold of Point Pinos
Shot in the Back
Silent Assassin
Grizzly Hunt
Silent Assassin
Dakota Kill
Demon’s Curse
Death of a Gandy Dancer
The Funeral of Doc Holliday
The Tomb of Joaquin
Ace High
The Art of the Gun
The Devil’s Payload