Town of Two Women (9781101612125)
Page 4
“Gina?”
Clint nodded, even though he thought it was a dumb question. How many secretaries did the man have?
“She’s a nice girl,” the doc said.
“I thought so, too,” Clint said, “that’s why I asked her to supper.”
“You’re taking her to supper?”
“I am.”
“When?”
“Tonight,” Clint said. “If I’m still here. Did she wake up yet?”
“No.”
Clint sat down, shaking his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m just wondering what would have happened if I’d left her out there.”
Mathis smiled and sat down.
“You could no more do that than I could turn you away when you showed up at my door with her.”
“I know.”
“The problem is,” Mathis went on, “we’re both good guys.”
“That’s the problem, huh?”
Mathis nodded.
“The problem with that,” Clint said, “is that it makes everybody else the bad guys.”
TWELVE
“Hello?”
They both looked up. It was a woman’s voice.
“Is that her?” Clint asked.
Doc sprang up from his chair and ran into the next room. Clint was close behind.
The girl in the bed was awake, and they startled her by running in.
“It’s okay,” Mathis said. “You’re okay.”
She frowned at him, then said, “You’re the doctor.”
“That’s right.”
“In Heathstead.”
“Right again.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m back in Heathstead?”
“Yes.” Mathis looked over his shoulder at Clint. “She’s three for three. That’s good.”
“How did I get here?” She tried to sit up, but stopped short. “Why does my head hurt?”
“You took a bad fall off your horse,” the doctor said. “Hit your head. This man found you and brought you here.”
“Why here?” she asked.
“It was the closest town,” Clint said. “And I didn’t know your history with this place.”
“Well, you know it now,” she said. “I have to get out of here before somebody kills me.”
“Nobody’s gonna kill you,” Doc said.
“So you say.”
“So I say,” Clint chimed in.
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Clint Adams.”
She frowned.
“The Gunsmith?”
“That’s right.”
She looked pale, her brown hair was dirty, but when she smiled at the sound of his name, she looked pretty.
“I got the Gunsmith as my protector?”
“For a while.”
“How long?”
“Until we can get you out of this town,” Clint said.
“And when will that be?” she asked.
“When you’re ready to travel,” Doc Mathis said.
“And when will that be?”
“When I say so,” Doc said.
“Well,” she asked, “do I have to wait ’til you say so to get something to eat? I’m starving.”
“No,” Doc said, “we’ll get you something to eat.”
“You get it, Doc,” Clint suggested. “You haven’t been out since we got here.”
“Good idea,” Doc said. “You can answer the rest of her questions.”
As the doctor left, Clint asked, “Would you like some coffee?”
“God, yes.”
“I’ll get you some while you get yourself into a seated position,” Clint said.
Clint went in the other room, poured the coffee, and came back. She was sitting up, holding her head.
“Still hurt?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Bad.”
He handed her the coffee.
“You fell off your horse, and hit your head,” he said. “Your cinch had been cut.”
She drank some coffee, said, “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Was anybody chasing you?”
“Not exactly.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Well,” she said, “when the whole town chased me out, some of them mounted up and followed me. I was afraid they were gonna kill me, so I started riding hard.”
“That put extra pressure on that cinch, and it broke,” he said.
“So one way or another, somebody tried to kill me.”
“Or hurt you,” Clint said. “Looks like they did that.”
She drank some more coffee, regarded him over the rim.
“Why did you help me?”
“Well, actually, I was helping your horse.”
“What?”
“I saw your horse running free,” Clint said. “I chased it down, wanted to make sure it was all right. I was bringing it to town when I came upon your body. I thought you were dead. When I saw that you weren’t, I couldn’t very well leave you there, so I brought you both here.”
She smiled at him.
“You’re a liar.”
“Okay, try this,” Clint said. “You were so damn pretty I couldn’t leave you out there.”
“I could believe that one,” she said, “but I don’t. You know what I think?”
“What?”
“You’re just too damn nice to leave anybody lying on the ground,” she said. “Even if I was a man, big and fat, you would’ve got me up on that horse and brought me here.”
“Well,” he said, “you got me.”
She drained her cup and asked, “Can I have some more?”
“Sure.”
THIRTEEN
“How much trouble have I caused you, so far?” Mary asked.
“What makes you think you’ve caused me trouble?”
She stared at him over her second cup of coffee. Her eyes were extremely blue.
“Come on, the doc must have told you how I came to be ridden out of town.”
“Oh, that,” Clint said. “Well, yeah, I did have to talk to the sheriff, and some guy named Locksley.”
Her eyes widened.
“What did Locksley say?”
“Before or after I threatened him?”
“You threatened Eric Locksley?”
“Well, I just told him that if he sent anyone here to harm you, or the doc, he’d have to deal with me.”
“How did he react to that?”
“Not well.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Tell me about Mrs. Locksley.”
“That bitch!”
“That’s what I hear. Tell me about her.”
“She’s mean,” Mary said. “Born mean, got meaner every day, even after she had a child.”
“She’s a mother?”
“An accident, I’m sure,” she said. “She has one son, treats him like a dog. The way she treats her husband.”
“And her husband stays with her?”
“She’s got the money.”
“Ah. And what do they have against you? Were you trying seduce their son and marry into that family?”
“That’s what everybody thought,” she said. “I wasn’t gonna marry Jake. But he thought so, and he told everybody.”
“And his mother didn’t like that?”
“She thought I was after her money.”
“But you weren’t?”
“No.”
“And you weren’t after her son?”
“No.”
“So what were you after, Mary?”
She stared at him, then said, “The truth?”
“The truth.”
She sipped her coffee again, then said, “Her husband.”
* * *
The doctor arrived with her food before Clint could pursue that. He put the tray on the bed so she could tuck into her ham and eggs.
“We’ll let you eat,” Mathis said. “When you’re finished, call us. I want to examine you.”
“Okay.”
They went into the other room.
“What did she have to say?” the doc asked.
“She told me a secret.”
“About what?” Doc asked. “Her and Jake?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, what then?”
“Never mind,” Clint said.
“She doesn’t want you to tell me?”
Clint didn’t answer.
“Okay,” Doc said. “Keep your secrets. And keep hers.”
“All I can say is things aren’t what they seem,” Clint said.
“Maybe not, Clint,” the doc said. “But you know what I know?”
“What’s that, Doc?”
“Things,” Doc Mathis said, “are always what they are.”
FOURTEEN
Mary called out when she was done. Doc and Clint went in, and Doc took the tray off her lap.
“I’ll take this back to the café,” he said. “When I come back, I’ll need you to leave, Clint, so I can examine her.”
“Okay, Doc.”
Mathis left.
Clint and Mary sat in silence for a few minutes.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he told her.
“No,” she said, “I opened my big mouth, didn’t I? I should finish.”
“So finish.”
She took a deep breath.
“I was sleeping with her husband,” she said, “but I let everybody think I was interested in her son.”
“Why the husband, if not for the money?” Clint asked.
“He’s powerful,” she said, “and he’s good looking.”
“If you like that type.”
She giggled and said, “I guess I did.”
“Did?”
“Yes,” she said, “did. Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s the one who put me on that horse! Kind of hard to love a man after that.”
“And did you love him?”
She paused a moment to think, then said, “Probably not. It was probably the power, the . . . excitement. But no, not love.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“Why?”
“I’d hate to think that after everything you’ve been through, you still loved him. Especially since I’d have to go up against him if he comes after us.”
“Us?”
“Yes, us,” Clint said. “And that includes Doc, who could’ve slammed his door in our face, but didn’t.”
“Well,” she said, “if he does come after us, you have my permission to kill him.”
“Hopefully,” Clint said, “it won’t come to that.”
“Why hopefully?” she asked. “You’re obviously not afraid to kill people.”
“I only kill someone if they force me into it.”
“Well, he will,” she said, “because he ain’t gonna back down—that bitch wife of his won’t let him.”
“Then maybe I should kill her.”
“Good!” she spat. “Kill ’em both!”
“Let’s not be so bloodthirsty,” Clint said. “I was kidding. I’m not going to kill Mrs. Locksley, but I should go and talk to her.”
“You’ll see what a hard bitch she is.”
“When Doc comes back, I’ll find out for myself,” he said.
Her eyes were closing, so he stood up.
“I’m going to let you get some rest,” he said. “We’ll talk later.”
“I am kinda tire . . .” she said, and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
When Doc Mathis returned, Clint was sitting in his office, waiting.
“How is she?”
“She was tired, so I let her go back to sleep.”
Mathis went in to check, then came back.
“She wasn’t sleeping before, she was unconscious.”
“And now?”
“Now she’s sleeping, and that’s good.”
Clint stood up.
“Where are you off to?” Mathis asked.
“I’m going to talk to Mrs. Locksley,” I said. “Everybody seems to think she’s got the real power. Maybe I can convince her to give Mary a couple of days to recover, and then leave.”
“Good luck,” Mathis said. “That woman is not one you can talk into anything.”
“Well, I’ll give it a try,” Clint said. “All I need to know is where to find her.”
“Try her house,” Doc said, and gave Clint directions. “Biggest one in town. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
FIFTEEN
Clint found the house with no trouble, as Doc had assured him. It was two stories, with white columns out front, and balconies above.
He approached the front door and knocked. With this kind of house, he expected the door to be opened by a servant. Instead, a woman who was very unservantlike opened it and stared at him.
“Yes?”
“I’m looking for Mrs. Locksley.”
“You found her,” she said, “but I don’t know you.”
“No, you don’t, ma’am,” he said. “My name is Clint Adams.”
“Ah,” she said, “you’re the one who brought that bitch back to town.”
“Well, uh, yes, but the, uh, bitch was unconscious when I brought her back. Not her doing at all.”
She frowned at him, then said, “Well, come inside,” and backed away.
Clint entered, closed the door, and followed the woman through a large, high-ceilinged entryway into a plushly furnished living room.
“This is very impressive,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s furnished to my taste, of course.”
She stopped, turned, and folded her arms. She was wearing an expensive robe that looked to him like silk, belted tightly at the waist. He hadn’t known what to expect the way everyone talked about her. What he found was a beautiful woman, tall and slender, although the tight robe did bulge in the right places. She had long black hair, and the skin of her face was smooth and pale. She wasn’t evil looking at all, although she was giving him a rather stern look at the moment.
“I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt, Mr. Adams,” she said. “You found an unconscious girl and brought her to the closest town for treatment.”
“That’s exactly how it happened.”
“Fine,” she said, “now get her out of town.”
“I intend to,” Clint said, “as soon as she’s ready to ride.”
“Get her a buggy,” Angela Locksley said, “or tie her to a horse again. I don’t care how, just get her out of here.”
“Mrs. Locksley,” Clint said, “you’re not being reasonable.”
“I thought I was being very reasonable by giving you the benefit of the doubt, Mr. Adams,” she said. “I’m afraid that’s as reasonable as I can get after what that woman did.”
“And what did she do?”
“Never mind,” she said. “I don’t want to go through the whole business again. It was . . . distasteful.”
“Mrs. Locksley, where’s your son? What’s his name? Jake?”
“That’s right,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“I just thought since I was here, I should probably t
alk to him.”
“Well, you can’t,” she said. “We sent Jake away.”
“Away?”
“Back East,” she said. “To school.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty.”
He’d had trouble guessing Mary’s age, but she seemed a little old for a twenty-year-old boy.
“Have you spoken with my husband?”
“I have.”
“Were you impressed?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“I didn’t think so,” she said. “I need you to listen to me very carefully, Mr. Adams.”
“Okay.”
“If you don’t get that girl out of town, I will have her killed,” she said. “If you get in the way, I will have you killed.”
“I’ll tell you what I told your husband, ma’am,” Clint said. “Anyone you send will have to deal with me.”
“I will not send someone,” she said. “I will send several someones. I am aware of your reputation, but you are only one man.”
“As I told your husband, I’m one man who will be fixated on you, and on him.”
“You don’t frighten me, Mr. Adams,” she said. “Perhaps you frightened my husband. I rather think you probably did. But you don’t scare me. You would not shoot an unarmed woman.”
“I’ll gladly shoot anyone you send after me, though,” he told her.
“Then you’ll have to deal with the law.”
“You think if you send gunmen to try to kill me, the law will be on your side?”
“In this town?” she asked. “I know it will.”
SIXTEEN
Clint left the Locksley home, shaking his head. The woman was unbendable in her resolve. He’d now spoken to husband and wife, and there was little or no difference—except he did agree that Angela Locksley had the power.
Mary had told him that she was having an affair with Eric Locksley, but she didn’t tell him if Angela knew about it. Did the woman hate the girl simply because she thought she was after her son, or did she know about her dalliance with her husband?
That was something Mary might be able to tell him, when she woke up.
Clint still had not gotten himself a hotel room. He didn’t know how long the doctor would let him sleep in that spare room, but perhaps he could go back there now and freshen up for his supper date with Gina Hopewell.
Locksley’s secretary certainly seemed willing to talk about her boss, so maybe she’d have something to say that would be of value.