Red Water

by J. R. Roberts

  The air was cool and damp, making it seem earlier than it truly was. There was easy laughter drifting among the riders and when the man at the front of the group motioned for them to stop, it was with a cordial wave.

  “This is the spot, boys,” Marshal Flynt said. “Matter of fact, I even see the marker.”

  Frank was the only other man wearing a badge, and he rode directly beside the marshal. Lefty and Arvin brought up the rear. The two posse members slouched in their saddles, doing nothing to hide the fact that they’d washed down their morning bacon with a few gulps of whiskey.

  “Where’s Tom?” Arvin asked. “You said he was supposed to meet up with us.”

  Bringing his horse to a stop next to a single post sticking from the ground at an angle, Flynt replied, “I ain’t worried about that one. Adams and Baker were probably giving him too much trouble. Tom’s either running them all the way out to Springston or burying them somewhere along the way.”

  “Whichever it is,” Frank added, “them two won’t be bothering us.”

  The two posse members shrugged. “More reward money for us,” Arvin grunted. “Baker always was a busybody.”

  Flynt climbed down from his saddle as if he’d fallen from it. The irregular lumps of his stomach and torso made it seem easier for him to roll off his horse’s strained back. “Well, now we know where that busybody stands. And now that I see where you men stand, I can find more work for ya. After today, there’s gonna be plenty of work for all of us.”

  “If it’s as easy as this posse,” Lefty said, “you can count me in.”

  Flynt’s liver lips curled into a smile as he huffed and waddled his way over to the post. Once there, he let out another series of grunts as he went through the arduous labor of squatting down to paw at the ground like a dog digging for a bone. Before long, his grunts became louder and then finally turned into a confused rumble.

  “What’s the matter?” Frank asked.

  “They ain’t here,” Flynt said as if he was muttering to himself. After digging a few more hasty scoops from the ground, he hollered, “They ain’t here!”

  “What ain’t there?” Arvin asked.

  “The . . . what I was looking for,” Flynt said.

  Frank practically jumped down from his horse to rush over to the marshal’s side. “They ain’t there? Where the hell are they?”

  “If I knew where they were, I’d have them in my damn hands, now wouldn’t I?” Flynt snarled. “Stop asking stupid questions and start digging. They got to be nearby. Maybe the marker’s just a bit off.”

  “Off from where?” Arvin asked.

  Sighing impatiently, Lefty grunted, “This don’t have to do with the reward money, does it?”

  “There isn’t going to be any reward money.”

  That voice had rolled in from somewhere else in the field like a stray breeze. It affected the posse more like a whirlwind, since it caused them all to spin around to search for its source. The men’s eyes couldn’t fix upon a specific target, but their faces were all pointed in roughly the same direction.

  Flynt pulled in a wheezing breath, but wasn’t able to let it out before the whirlwind rolled in again.

  “The plans aren’t there, Flynt, so you can stop looking.”

  “Adams?” Flynt shouted. “Is that you?”

  The air was still enough for every little sound to be heard, and everyone in the group immediately heard the rustling coming from nearby.

  “Yeah,” Clint called from his new position. “It’s me. Sounds like you thought I’d be dead.”

  Flynt smirked uncomfortably on the off chance that he could be seen. “Tom’s got a hot head sometimes, that’s all. You two never did seem to get along.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “Say . . . where is Tom?”

  In the few seconds of silence that followed, Flynt motioned for his deputy to circle around toward the sound of Clint’s voice. He motioned for the posse members to circle in another direction, but had to wave frantically at them until they started paying attention to him.

  “Tom’s in a different field,” Clint replied.

  “That’ll cost you, Adams!” Flynt cried. “He was a lawman!”

  “And what about those outlaws you all are supposed to be hunting?” Clint asked from a slightly different spot in the field. “Did you deputize them to keep their looting nice and legal?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lefty asked.

  Turning to the posse member, Flynt snarled, “It don’t mean shit. Adams killed Tom and now he’s after the reward money.”

  “What were you looking for, Marshal?” Clint asked. “Buried treasure?”

  “Yeah,” Lefty said. “What were you looking for?” Flynt swung his hand at Lefty and Arvin with enough force to create a breeze. “You men want to ask questions? Go do it on your own time! If you won’t follow orders, then get the hell outta my sight!”

  “You looking for someone who follows your orders?” Clint asked. “Try that wagon behind you.”

  Both Flynt and Frank spun around with their guns drawn. They didn’t find Clint standing there, but they did see a small wagon parked about ten yards away. They approached the wagon, which was just big enough to hold a small load of barrels or a few piles of burlap sacks. Instead of any of those things, however, the cart now contained the crumpled body of Chris Jerrison.

  As soon as Flynt saw whose corpse was in the wagon, he gritted his teeth and hissed, “Find Adams and gun him down. I’ll pay extra to the man that drops that son of a bitch.”

  FORTY-FOUR

  “Fan out!” Flynt bellowed. “This murderer killed Tom and now he’s killed this man!”

  “Who is that?”

  “Will you shut your goddamn mouth, Lefty? Just do what I say! I’m the law around here and you do what I tell you!”

  “Did you tell them about the deal you struck to sell those plans?” Clint asked.

  This time, the voice was coming from a spot that was definitely closer and definitely to Flynt’s left. The marshal jabbed his finger in that direction and traded his pistol for the shotgun hanging from his saddle.

  “You’re a liar and a murderer, Adams!” the marshal shouted. “You’re just trying to get us to drop our guard.”

  “Why would I do that,” Clint asked as he stood up just enough for his hat to rise above a patch of weeds, “when I could have killed you all by now?”

  The entire posse fired at once. Lawmen and locals alike pulled their triggers until the air was filled with enough smoke to choke their horses. When they eased up a bit, Frank moved toward the spot where Clint had been. He made it less than three steps before Clint stood up and fired a single shot from his Colt.

  Sparks flew from the gun in the deputy’s hand as Clint’s bullet knocked the pistol from his grasp. Without batting an eye, Clint put his second round through the meaty part of Marshal Flynt’s shoulder. Although the lawman didn’t drop his shotgun, he wasn’t able to lift it either.

  “This posse is a joke,” Clint declared. “All you wanted to do was clear out the town so those outlaws could do some dirty work for you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Flynt hollered. “You’re the one firing on us!”

  “Since you’re the one who sent Tom to take me and Baker out of the way or bury us, I’m sure you can understand why I’m a little upset.”

  “That’s preposterous!”

  “No it ain’t, Marshal,” Lefty said. “You told us so yourself.”

  “And you went along for your cut of the reward,” Flynt shot back.

  “Now I’m thinkin’ you weren’t straight with us. And if you weren’t straight with us about what you had planned, how do we know you wouldn’t double-cross us?” Lefty asked.

  Clint smiled and nodded. “A little slow, but he got there all the same. Looks like your posse is catching on.”

  “You’re outgunned, Adams,” Frank pointed out.

  “Outnumbered, maybe,” Cli
nt admitted. “But I’d only be worried if you men didn’t waste half your ammunition shooting at a hat on a stick.”

  That got the men nervous. The uneasiness worked through the entire posse like a slowly moving ripple crossing the top of a pond. Arvin and Lefty lowered their guns. Frank swallowed hard as he stared at his own gun lying on the ground. Flynt broke out in a cold sweat.

  “Did the marshal tell you men that Laramie and his partners were in Red Water trying to steal plans for some safes that were bound for half a dozen banks in Kansas?” Clint asked.

  “No,” Arvin replied. “He didn’t.”

  “Did he tell you those plans were supposed to be left here so he could pick them up?”

  Lefty sat bolt upright and glared at the lawman. “He sure didn’t. I knew you was after something in this damn field!”

  “Adams can’t prove anything!” Flynt whined. “He’s after the reward.”

  “Anything you would have paid these men would have been a fraction of what you got for selling off those plans,” Clint said. “And you weren’t even planning on paying that if you could help it. I hear you intended on paying extra to Laramie or any of those outlaws if they killed off your posse after you got what you were after.”

  Suddenly, Lefty and Arvin started to squirm. They leaned forward in their saddles to get a look at the cart. Even though the cart was a little ways from them, it was small enough for them to be certain there was only one body in it.

  “Where’s the rest of them outlaws?” Arvin asked. “Weren’t there supposed to be three of them?”

  Clint grinned and locked eyes with the marshal. “That’s right. There were three of them. I suppose the other two must still be about.”

  Flynt’s eyes grew to the size of silver dollars. “Whatever they told you, it was a lie.”

  “Really? Then they just happened to go after Sven because they thought he was the richest man in town?”

  “You mean that German blacksmith?” Lefty asked.

  “Go on and tell your men the truth,” Clint said. “That way they’ll know why those other two outlaws are gunning for them.”

  “You mean Laramie and that black fella are still alive?” Frank asked.

  Clint nodded. “And they were pretty mad the last time I saw them.”

  “Why’d you let them go?” Flynt whined.

  “I figured I wasn’t a member of the posse once Tom tried to get rid of me and Baker. Laramie got real talkative when he realized your plan wasn’t going anywhere. Once that one in the cart was done in, the other two didn’t care about safe plans anymore. They just wanted blood. Still do, I suppose.”

  Flynt’s breathing was so labored that it was louder than the wind. “All right, Adams. You win. We were out to sell those plans, but I’ll cut you in on the profit. I’ll cut you all in! Let’s just find those other two before they kill us.”

  “They just want you, Flynt. Well,” Clint added, “you and anyone else wearing a badge around here.”

  Flynt and his deputy Frank couldn’t tear their badges off quick enough. They threw them to the ground along with their guns. “We can all walk away from this,” Flynt pleaded. “There’s no reason we can’t just forget this ever happened.”

  Shrugging, Clint said, “I’m leaving town anyway. You’re the ones that need to worry about those outlaws finding you.”

  “Fine, then. We’ll leave, too.”

  “But . . .” Frank protested.

  Flynt silenced him with a wave. “We’ll leave! Just square things up between us and you won’t never see us again.”

  Clint narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you won’t just try to kill me the next chance you get? Maybe we should just have it out right now.”

  Unable to think of anything to say, the marshal climbed into his saddle and moved his horse away. Frank followed him. Once there was some distance between them, they dug their heels into their horses’ sides and were off like they’d been shot from a cannon. Now only Arvin and Lefty remained. The two locals looked at each other, the fleeing lawmen, and then at Clint.

  “What the hell are we supposed to do now?” Lefty asked.

  Clint picked up his hat and examined all the holes that had been shot through it. “First, you might want to go to the field that’s about half a mile west of here. It’s the one with the scarecrow. Tom’s been tied to that thing for a while and must be getting awfully anxious by now. After that, you’ll probably want to scrounge up some new lawmen.”

  Clint walked away from the two locals to the spot where Eclipse was waiting. Neither of the former posse members made a move to stop him. In fact, they seemed too confused to do much of anything but stare at the old cart and its gruesome contents.

  It was a short ride to the bluff overlooking the field where Jerrison’s body had been left. Baker stood atop the bluff with a rifle propped against him and a wide smile on his face. As soon as Clint was close enough, Baker ran forward and said, “They skinned out without a fight. That is, unless you count the shots they fired at your hat. I can’t believe that was so easy!”

  “I can,” Clint replied. “Someone who went through so much trouble to distract anyone capable of holding a gun while hiring someone like Laramie to do the work obviously didn’t want a fight.”

  “I suppose so.” Nodding toward the horses behind him, Baker asked, “What should we do with them?”

  Clint looked over there to find Baker’s horse and another horse carrying both Laramie and Samuel. The two outlaws were bound and gagged, tied to each other, and draped sideways over the horse’s back. “I intended on turning them in. They’re still horse thieves, but they’re probably not worth half as much as Flynt was saying.”

  “Then I might as well go along with you,” Baker said with a shrug. “Half of a little reward is better than a lot of a made up one. Besides, the best place to turn these fellas in is Wichita. You could use some help in getting them there and I already told the missus I’d be gone for a while.”

  Letting out a heavy sigh, Clint said, “Wichita, huh? I wonder if I can put up with Laramie for that long . . .”

  Watch for

  THE TWO-GUN KID

  326th novel in the exciting GUNSMITH series

  from Jove

  Coming in February!

  DON’T MISS THESE ALL-ACTION WESTERN SERIES FROM THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

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  J. T. Law: the most relentless—and dangerous—manhunter in all Texas. Where sheriffs and posses fail, he’s the best man to bring in the most vicious outlaws—for a price.

 

 

 
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