“Suits me.”
The sheriff went into the kitchen. Clint heard a man and a woman’s voices, and then the man returned with two glasses of whiskey.
“She’ll be out in a minute.”
Clint accepted the glass, looked around. He didn’t see a table set up for supper.
“This house is pretty small, but it comes with the job,” Barrett said, “We’ll be eating at the kitchen table.”
“That’s fine with me,” Clint said. “So how did you get here from Lonesome?”
“After you left, I stayed there for about six months, then moved on. I took a job as a deputy before I finally got my first sheriff’s tin.”
Barrett stopped, and looked inward.
“Didn’t go as planned, huh?”
“Does it ever?” he asked. “I found I couldn’t deal with the politicians in the towns I worked in. I ended up here, where they leave me alone.”
“So far.”
Barrett nodded.
“So far.”
Delores came out of the kitchen then and Clint stood up. He made a fuss over her, found her a warm, friendly woman. She invited him into her kitchen, where the table was set.
It was the best steak dinner he’d ever had, and he told her so.
• • •
Later, they were sitting in the living room again. Delores was in the kitchen, cleaning up, while Clint and Barrett had another whiskey together.
“I’m figuring Johnny’s here,” Clint said.
“How do you figure?”
“Simple,” Clint said. “There’s no way I could have gotten here ahead of him.”
“So the old man’s keepin’ him under cover?”
“It makes sense.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“And they probably know I’m here.”
“So you think they’ll try for you?”
“I think they’ll do that rather than wait for me to make a try at them.”
“Will they come at you together?”
“Father and son? Oh, yeah.”
“What do you want to do?”
“If Jimmy’s out in the open, I’ll go and talk to him tomorrow,” Clint said.
“About what?”
“I’ll be feeling him out under the guise of telling him what I think his son did,” Clint said.
“He won’t turn him over to you.”
“I know that.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“No,” Clint said, “I’ll talk to him alone.”
“Is that smart?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
• • •
Barrett walked Clint back to his hotel after Clint thanked Delores for the great meal. He could see how pleased she was with his praise.
When they got to the hotel, they stopped outside and looked around.
“What is it?” Barrett asked.
“I felt like we were being watched before,” Clint said.
Barrett looked around.
“Nothin’ now.”
“Yeah.”
Barrett looked at Clint.
“Watch your back,” the sheriff said. “And your windows and doors.”
“Always,” Clint said. “Thanks for the meal.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Give me some time in the morning,” Clint said. “I’ll talk to you after I’ve seen Jimmy.”
“Okay,” Barrett said. “I just hope nothin’ goes wrong.”
Clint felt the same way.
THIRTY-FIVE
When the door of the sheriff’s office opened, Barrett looked up, half expecting to see Clint. But it was too early in the morning. He wouldn’t have had time to talk to Jimmy Creed yet.
He looked up, saw a man wearing a badge enter the office.
“I’m Sheriff Cox, from El Legado, New Mexico.”
“What are you doin’ this far out of your jurisdiction, Sheriff?” Barrett asked.
“I’m tracking a man and I think he may be here.”
“Who’s that?”
“Clint Adams.”
“The Gunsmith.”
“That’s right,” Cox said. “I’ve got a posse outside.”
“What’s he wanted for?”
“Possible murder.”
“This have anything to do with a gambler, and Johnny Creed?” Barrett asked.
Cox frowned.
“Adams is here?” he asked. “You talked to him?”
“He had supper at my house last night with me and my wife,” Sheriff Barrett said.
“Is he a friend of yours?”
“We knew each other before.”
“I don’t think you should get in my way on this, Sheriff,” Cox said.
“Like I said before, Sheriff,” Barrett replied, “you’re out of your jurisdiction.”
“He’s wanted for murder.”
“You said possible murder,” Barrett said. “That means he wasn’t tried and convicted. There’s no paper out on him.”
“What did he tell you about Johnny Creed?”
“He thinks Johnny killed the gambler,” Barrett said. “He tracked him here.”
“Did Adams kill him?”
“He hasn’t seen the boy yet,” Barrett said. “And there’s somethin’ else you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“Jimmy Creed is here.”
“In jail?”
“No,” Barrett said. “I’ve got no reason to put Jimmy Creed in jail. Or Johnny Creed. Or Clint Adams. They have business they have to finish themselves.”
“If I take Adams in—”
“I can’t let you do that,” Barrett said.
“I’m a lawman, damn it!”
“In New Mexico maybe,” Barrett said, “but not here. Look, why don’t you go out and tell your men to take it easy, then come back in and have a cup of coffee. And we’ll talk.”
Cox rubbed his hands over his face, then said, “Yeah, okay, let’s talk.”
• • •
Clint heard the horses outside, walked to the window, and was not surprised to see Sheriff Cox and his posse ride down the street. If he had been a legitimately wanted man, he would have gone out the back door and run. But everything was in place now. The Creeds were in town, he was in town, the posse was in town.
Clint watched from the window as Sheriff Cox entered Barrett’s office. The posse milled about outside, waiting. Finally, the New Mexican lawman—who had no jurisdiction in Arizona—came out and spoke to his men. They began to disperse as Cox went back inside.
Clint waited for the posse to go their separate ways, then left his room.
• • •
“Pa?”
“What?”
“You better come and look at this.”
Jimmy walked to the window and joined his son. They looked down at the New Mexican posse riding into town.
“Who is that?” Jimmy asked.
“Sheriff Cox,” Johnny said. “From New Mexico.”
“He’s got no power here,” Jimmy pointed out. “Besides, ain’t he here lookin’ for the Gunsmith?”
“I hope so.”
“Yeah, he is,” Jimmy said. “You said you framed Adams for the killin’, so they’re trackin’ him, not you.”
“But they’re gonna get in our way, Pa,” Johnny said.
“Naw,” Jimmy said. He patted his son on the chest. “Nobody’s gonna get in our way, son. I guarantee it. Let’s go get some breakfast.”
• • •
Clint stepped out of his hotel, pulled a wooden chair over, and sat down. If Sheriff Cox came out and wanted to brace him, let him come. The man had no authority here.
But instead of Cox coming out, he saw Johnny Cree
d and an older man who resembled him come out of the other hotel. Clint watched as they turned and walked down the street, stopped in front of a café, and went inside.
Time for breakfast, he thought, standing up.
• • •
The Creeds had ordered their breakfasts and were drinking coffee when Clint Adams entered the café.
“Pa,” Johnny said
“Relax, son,” Jimmy said, “relax. Let me do the talkin’.”
“What if he goes for his gun?”
“He won’t,” Jimmy said. “Not in here.”
Clint Adams spotted the two men and walked over to them. The other diners in the place watched with interest.
“You fellas mind if I join you?” Clint asked.
Johnny was surprised, but Jimmy used his foot to push out a chair for Clint and said, “Be my guest.”
THIRTY-SIX
Eventually, the three men had steaming plates of eggs and ham in front of them.
“You been trackin’ my boy for a while,” Jimmy said to Clint.
“He tell you he killed a man?” Clint asked.
“He told me the sheriff thinks you killed a man,” Jimmy answered. “But let’s face it, Adams. We’ve all killed men.”
“I kill when it’s necessary,” Clint said. “Not because somebody beat me in a poker game.”
“Well, it seems to me the posse’s in town lookin’ for you, not Johnny.”
“The posse’s got no power here, Jimmy,” Clint said. “I’m here to bring Johnny back to New Mexico.”
“We ain’t gonna allow that, Adams,” Jimmy Creed said.
“Jimmy,” Clint said, “you want your son to end up with a reputation like yours?”
Jimmy Creed just smiled.
“You got quite a reputation of your own, Adams,” he said. “You deserve it all?”
Clint didn’t answer.
“I didn’t think so,” Jimmy said. “Well, neither do I. We all know how reputations go.”
“Sure, we know that,” Clint said, “but your boy’s got a chance to go a different way.”
“Not if, like you say, he killed that gambler. If that’s true, then he’s already taken his first step. So there’s no going back, right?”
“You can look at it that way.”
“I’m his father,” Jimmy said. “That’s the way I look at it.”
Clint pushed his plate away. He really had no appetite to eat with the Creeds.
“You want to take this out into the street now, Adams?” Creed asked.
“Is that what you want, Jimmy?” Clint asked. “To see your son dead in the street?”
“What if it’s you who ends up dead in the street?”
Clint stood up.
“Think it over, Jimmy,” Clint said. “Or better yet, let Johnny think it over. Maybe he should make his own decision.”
Johnny started to speak, but Jimmy held up his hand.
“I think we’ll finish our breakfast, Adams,” Jimmy said. “Why don’t you sit and do the same?”
“That’s okay,” Clint said. “I kind of lost my appetite.”
He turned and walked from the café.
“Pa—”
“Finish eatin’, son,” Jimmy said. “I think this is all gonna be settled sometime today.”
• • •
After dismissing his posse, Cox went back into Barrett’s office and sat down with a mug of coffee across from the Arizona lawman.
“Where’d your boys go?” Barrett asked.
“The livery,” Cox said.
“They’ll stay out of trouble, won’t they?”
“They won’t do anything until I tell them to.”
“That’s good.”
“What’s on your mind, Sheriff?” Cox asked. “How do we resolve this?”
“Well, it seems to me that you and me don’t have to resolve this,” Barrett said.
“How do you figure that?”
“Hell, the Creeds are here, Adams is here,” Barrett said, “we can just let them resolve it. Tell me, do you really think Adams killed that man in your town?”
“Whether he did or not is not the point,” Cox said. “I was looking into that murder, and I told Adams not to leave town. And he did.”
“So that’s the reason you tracked him all this way?” Barrett asked.
“I want to take him back with me, and let a judge decide if he should stand trial for murder.”
“Well,” Barrett said, “there’s not much I can do about that. Your badge is no good here.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because you’re in my town, Cox.”
Cox leaned forward, set the coffee mug down on the desk, and stood up.
“We’ll see about that,” he said, and left the office.
• • •
Clint saw Cox leaving the sheriff’s office before he could blunder into him. He waited while the New Mexican sheriff walked away from the office before going inside.
“You saw him?” Barrett asked.
“I did,” Clint said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“That’s okay,” Barrett said. “I had an idea.”
Clint sat in the chair Cox had vacated.
“What’d you tell him?” Clint asked.
“He’s got no authority here,” Barrett said, “so unless I want to arrest you and turn you over to him, he and his posse can’t do a damn thing.”
“Why would you not do that?” Clint asked.
“I don’t think you’re a murderer,” Barrett said. “At least, the man I knew in Lonesome wasn’t.”
“That was a long time ago.”
Barrett shrugged.
“I don’t figure you changed all that much since then,” the lawman said.
“How did he take it?”
“Not well,” Barrett said. “I think you better resolve your issues quick as you can.”
“I’m trying,” Clint said, “believe me, I’m trying.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
As they finished their breakfast, Jimmy said to Johnny, “You did good, kid.”
“I kept quiet.”
“That’s what I wanted you to do.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We wait.”
“For Adams to make a move?”
“For the right opportunity to come up,” Jimmy said. “Don’t worry. Our time will come.”
“What about the posse?”
“They can’t do nothin’ unless they get the local sheriff to help.”
“And if he does?”
“He won’t,” Jimmy said.
“How can you be so sure?”
Jimmy smiled at his son.
“Because Adams’ll be dead before he can do a thing, boy,” he answered.
• • •
Cox stormed out of the sheriff’s office and went in search of his deputies. He found them in one of Desperation’s saloons.
“Where are the boys?”
“Eatin’,” Teller said.
“That’s what we was gonna do after we had a drink,” Deputy Toarke said.
Cox looked at the bartender and said, “Beer.”
The man nodded.
“What happened with the local sheriff?” Teller asked.
“He isn’t going to cooperate with us.”
“Why not?” Toarke asked.
“I think he might be friends with Clint Adams.”
“So what do we do?” Teller asked.
“We’ll have to wait for a chance to arise,” Cox said, accepting his beer from the barman. “On top of that, both Creeds are in town, Johnny and Jimmy.”
“Jimmy the backshooter?” Teller said.
Cox nodded and sipped his bee
r.
“Wow,” Toarke said. “The Gunsmith and the Creeds in town? We may not have to do nothin’.”
“That’s not the way the law works,” Cox said. “You don’t just stand around and watch while men kill each other.”
“So what are we gonna do if the sheriff won’t help?” Teller asked.
“I ain’t decided yet,” Cox said.
“Should we find the others, tell ’em not to do nothin’?” Toarke asked.
“No,” Cox said.
“Why not?”
“Because they’re a bunch of storekeepers,” Cox said. “They’re not going to do anything unless they’re told. It’s you boys I’m worried about.”
“Us?” Teller asked.
“I don’t want either of you getting brave, you hear?” Cox told them.
“Don’t worry about me,” Toarke said. “I ain’t gonna get brave. Not when we’re dealin’ with the Gunsmith.”
“And Jimmy the backshooter,” Teller added.
“Okay, good,” Cox said. “You boys just watch me and wait for my play.”
They both nodded, and the three lawmen hunched over their mugs of beer.
• • •
Jimmy told Johnny to go back to the room . . .
“What if you run into Adams?” Johnny asked.
“Adams wants you, boy,” Jimmy said. “I don’t think he’s gonna come after me.”
“And you won’t go after him without me, will ya, Pa?” Johnny asked.
“No, kid,” Jimmy said, “I won’t do that. I tol’ you, we’re gonna take him together. Just go back to the room and wait for me.”
“Yessir.”
• • •
Back in the room, Johnny stood by the window and watched the street. He didn’t see any sign of Clint Adams, either sheriff, or any of the posse. There were people on the street, riders and wagons, and everything seemed calm. He didn’t see how that could last, however.
He had given all the decision-making power over to his father, and now he wasn’t sure he had done the right thing. After all, he hadn’t seen Jimmy Creed in years. Why had he just given up being his own man?
Hiding in his room, that wasn’t him. And after killing those three men who had come after him, his confidence with his gun was sky high.
This wasn’t right, he thought. Johnny Creed didn’t hide in his room, no matter what anybody said.
He turned, grabbed his hat, and stormed out the door.
Showdown in Desperation Page 11