Under a Turquoise Sky

by J. R. Roberts

  “I’m Clint Adams,” Clint said, “and you men were sent in by Carl Breckens, weren’t you?”

  “How did you know th—” Kemp started, but Drake nudged him quiet.

  “Mister, we don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Drake said. “We just came in for a drink.”

  “Right,” Clint said, “this early in the morning and just passing through…to where?”

  Neither man was able to think of a viable answer. The sudden tension in the room caused the miners who were there to back away from the bar and their tables to the general store side of the tent, where there was cover. Al, the bartender, stayed where he was, his hand near the six-gun he kept under the bar.

  Isaac Brown remained where he was, watching carefully. If Adams gunned down these two men, he was going out the back way to let Ed Martin know what had happened.

  Carl Breckens watched the two men go into the tent, then made his way through the camp toward the main headquarters of the Blue Lady Mine. He’d neglected to find out from Ed Martin what cabin Markstein was in. With any luck Martin would still be there.

  Clint turned to face away from the bar and toward the two men.

  “Breckens has thrown you to the wolves, boys,” Clint said. “While you’re here getting killed, he thinks he’s going to get the job done, get paid and not have to pay you. Don’t you see?”

  “There’s two of us, mister,” Drake said, pushing Kemp away from him so there was some distance between them.

  “Paul—” Kemp said.

  “We can do this, Jeff,” Drake said. “It means a lot of money,”

  “You can’t collect money,” Clint told them, “and you damn sure can’t spend it if you’re dead.”

  Martin, Joe and Markstein had their heads together, bent over the desk, studying blueprints. Chance had elected to take a chair over by the other desk. He was tremendously bored when the door opened and Carl Breckens walked in. Chance didn’t know he was Breckens at the time. All he knew was that he was a man wearing a gun.

  “Martin, you didn’t tell me—” Breckens stopped short when he saw all the people in the room.

  Martin reacted immediately. He pushed Markstein away from him, shouted, “Look out, George,” and drew his gun.

  Breckens, surprised, drew his gun as a pure reflex, but he was too late. Martin pulled the trigger and shot him in the chest. Chance, shocked into action, jumped up and drew his gun as Breckens staggered backwards out the door, pulling the trigger of his gun and firing one shot.

  “What the hell—” Chance said, turning to face Martin.

  They pointed their guns at each other…

  The two men might have given it up if it hadn’t been for the shots. As they all heard them, they all moved.

  Kemp and Drake went for their guns, leaving Clint no choice. He drew and fired twice, killing them both.

  Al grabbed his gun from beneath the bar and brought it up just as Clint turned to him.

  “Put it down,” Clint said.

  Al released the gun as if it were hot and it clattered to the bar top.

  “Hey, hey, I was just gonna try to help, man,” Al said.

  Clint swept the gun off the bar with one arm, sending it skittering across the floor toward Isaac Brown. Then he bent to check the two men to be sure they were dead.

  As the gun came sliding across the floor to Isaac Brown, he made a spur-of-the-moment decision. As Clint bent over the men, Brown picked up the gun, took a few steps toward Clint and raised it.

  Al saw what Brown was going to do and shouted, “Hey, no boss,” thinking that Brown misinterpreted what had taken place.

  Clint didn’t need the warning, though. He heard Brown’s steps behind him, turned and fired by instruct. The bullet struck Brown in the chest on the right side. His arm immediately lost all feeling and the gun dropped from his hand.

  “What the hell—” Clint said, but he didn’t have time to figure out what had happened. He turned and ran from the Tent toward the Blue Lady Mining Company headquarters.

  “Take it easy,” Chance said to Martin, lowering his gun.

  For a moment Martin considered firing again, but instead he lowered his weapon as well.

  “I’ll go out and see if he’s dead,” Chance said.

  “What happened?” Markstein asked.

  Joe, who had frozen in place next to Martin, said, “What the hell was that?”

  But Martin wasn’t listening. He rushed across the room, gun in hand. If Breckens was still alive, he might say something to Chance.

  As Martin reached the door, he saw Chance leaning over Breckens who, indeed, was still alive. Unsure as to whether he should shoot Chance first and then Breckens, or the other way around, he raised his gun. If Breckens talked, he’d have to kill them both anyway. The order didn’t matter.

  Clint was acting on pure instinct, because there was no time to ask questions. When he saw Buck Chance leaning over a fallen man and Ed Martin in the doorway raising a gun, he didn’t stop to consider who the man was going to shoot. It was enough to see that he was about to.

  Clint raised his gun and fired once.

  FORTY-THREE

  After Clint had told his story to the sheriff back in Kingman, the man said, “Okay, let me get this straight. Ed Martin and Isaac Brown were partners, and they wanted George Markstein killed so they could take over his half of the mine.”

  “Right.”

  “What made Martin think he’d get that half?” the lawman asked. “I’m not an expert on that kind of law, but wouldn’t it go to the surviving partner? Joe English?”

  “I suppose so,” Clint said. “I don’t think he thought that far ahead.”

  Cafferty shook his head and said, “It’s enough of a surprise finding out that Martin and Brown were partners. How does Joe English feel about all this?”

  “She and Markstein are getting along well,” Clint said. “He’s going to be a very hands-on owner, so I don’t think they’ll miss Ed Martin very much.”

  “Guess you musta felt pretty bad about shooting Isaac until you found out the whole story.”

  “I relied on my instinct, which told me I was in danger. I didn’t feel bad at all.”

  “Oh, well…I suppose Buck Chance will back your story?”

  “He will,” Clint said. “With his dying breath Breckens told Buck that Ed Martin had hired him.”

  “Well, I don’t think you need to hang around town much longer, then,” Kingman said. “I’ll get a hold of Buck and I’m sure he’ll back you.”

  “Much obliged, Sheriff,” Clint said. “I would like to get moving. Been around here much too long as it is.”

  Cafferty walked Clint out, thinking that the Gunsmith had been around long enough to kill five men—counting Mike Dolan. That was long enough for him, too.

  Clint’s horse was outside, and he grabbed the reins from the hitching post.

  “I heard a story from the mine,” Cafferty said.

  “What kind of story?”

  “Somebody came to town with a story about one percent of the mine?” he asked. “Apparently that was all that separated the two partners?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So what’d they do?”

  “Markstein was going to sell one percent to Joe so they’d be even partners, but instead he gave two percent of the mine away to somebody else.”

  “Really?” Cafferty asked. “Who’d he give it to?”

  Clint smiled at Cafferty and said, “I’m afraid that’s between him and whoever he gave it to, Sheriff.”

 

 

 
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