Crossing the Line

by J. R. Roberts

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Clint could tell Sadie was bristling. Rather than let her sink her teeth into the portly man, he eased her back a few steps and said, “Why don’t you buy us some beer? After all, we’ll be doing our best to win some money at Mack’s game and could use all the liquid courage we can get.”

  Once she saw the intent glare Clint was giving her, Sadie nodded and headed toward the bar. She was still in his line of sight, but far enough away for Clint to speak without being heard. Once he stood toe-to-toe with the other man, they might as well have been in their own locked room. Within seconds, Tom was squirming to get away from him a whole lot more than he’d wriggled to get away from Mack’s card table.

  “Something tells me you’re the sort of man who would rather not look at a woman than admit you took part in getting her brother killed,” Clint snarled.

  “What?”

  “You know she went to the sheriff, right? DeFalco must spout off a lot about something like that. I bet he didn’t have many good things to say about Sadie, her brother, or Delilah, for that matter.”

  “That was him talking,” Tom replied.

  “But if she went to the sheriff, that means she’s trying to drag the law into this mess even more than it already is.”

  “The law isn’t in it. Not anymore.”

  That told Clint plenty. Since Tom wasn’t so nervous anymore, it meant he wasn’t trying to lie. It also made it a safe bet that he figured he wasn’t in any danger at the moment. Clint didn’t have to do much to change Tom’s mind about that.

  “You know why I sent her away?” Clint asked. When Tom glanced toward the bar, Clint said, “She’s the sort of woman who attracts a lot of attention. She’s also the sister of a man who’s become quite the topic of conversation around here. That means everyone’s watching her a whole lot closer than they’re watching us. And that means I can do a whole lot to ruin your evening if you don’t start talking straight to me, real quick.”

  “I was just trying to take a piss,” Tom whined.

  “You were trying to get the hell out of here the moment you laid eyes on me and Sadie. Now that I’ve heard about you owing money and being on friendly terms with George, that puts all kinds of questions into my head.”

  “George who?”

  Clint’s hand snapped out to push Tom’s back against the wall. It didn’t take a lot of force to shove the man back an inch or two, but Tom nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “George doesn’t have a lot of friends,” Clint said. “The two I saw with him aren’t in very good shape. From what I can tell, folks around here don’t even know the names of those two. Maybe that’s why you bolted for the door when you saw us.”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  “Then why?” Clint snapped.

  While Tom fumbled for his words, he glimpsed toward the empty table where Delilah and Carl used to work. “If you’ve got something to say about Carl, then say it,” Clint demanded.

  Tom shook his head and stammered some more.

  When Tom shook his head this time, he did it as if his life depended on it. Clint was definitely on the right track.

  “I knew Delilah,” Clint said. “But only for a few days. You can say whatever you need to about her.”

  Glancing about nervously, Tom saw that nobody was paying them any attention. Sadie was in the middle of a heated conversation with the bartender, which drew even more attention to her. Les was nearby, watching the argument the way he watched everything else in Pace’s. Since the only one watching him seemed to be Clint, Tom let out the breath he’d been holding and started talking.

  THIRTY-ONE

  “I didn’t do anything, I swear,” Tom said.

  “Then why were you running?”

  “Because you and Delilah were close.”

  “She was a faro dealer,” Clint said. “Winners will love her and losers will want to kill her. You strike me as a loser.”

  Like any man who’d come to Pace’s to sit in on a game held by a professional like Mack, Tom took offense to that last statement more than anything else that had been said so far. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed as though he might stand up to Clint right there. He didn’t quite have the backbone to follow up on that, however.

  “I lost my share,” Tom said. “I lost plenty, but I was winning again. I was winning big.”

  “So why would you have anything against Delilah that you wouldn’t want me to hear?”

  “You don’t know?” Tom snarled.

  Clint was about to demand that the other man stop trying to steer the conversation in the wrong direction, when he realized he was the one who wasn’t keeping up.

  “That . . . woman put a wager on you during the tournament,” Tom said impatiently. “She bet with money that wasn’t even hers that if you won, her debts would be cleaned out.”

  “So you won enough to pull yourself out of a hole . . .” Clint said.

  “Out of a hole and back into a profit,” Tom cut in. Just thinking about that was enough to give him the strength to fight for a bit of distance between himself and Clint. He shoved Clint back a step, but then immediately regretted it.

  Since they still looked like they were just having a normal talk, Clint nodded and didn’t make Tom pay for stepping out of line.

  “That bitch owed me a healthy chunk of cash,” Tom said. “No offense if you were sweet on her.”

  “Go on,” Clint told him.

  “It took a whole lot of work to get out of debt, especially with how easily she pulls a man into playing one hand after another.”

  Faro was a dollop of skill wrapped in a whole lot of luck. On top of that, a talented dealer could make any player seem as if he was on the verge of striking it rich. Delilah was talented at a lot of things, and dealing faro was most definitely one of them.

  “I was on a streak,” Tom mused. “First I got flush, then I got ahead. Then I got ahead even more until that damn dealer started trying to push me off onto one of the other tables. I think that black fella was a good luck charm for me. Too bad he’s as good as dead.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Clint warned.

  As soon as Tom saw the angry fire in Clint’s eyes, he went back to the petrified state he was in a little while ago. “She made the offer to me and a few others that were ahead of her game at the start of the tournament. She watched you play that first game with George and got real confident you could win. She even pulled a few strings to try and get you to sit in that same chair so she could watch you play.”

  Clint smirked at that. From the first instant, when Delilah had gotten a good angle to peek at George’s cards, she’d been scheming to use it to the best possible advantage. Perhaps she’d been trying to steer him one way or the other for some reason, but Clint didn’t care. No matter what angles she’d been working, she didn’t deserve to be shot dead in her own saloon.

  “She seemed distracted and desperate to find any way to get her bet going on the tournament,” Tom explained. “When Mister Pace heard what she had to say, he wasn’t too happy about it. Then, she proposed a deal to me and some of the others who’d been wringing her dry. If her pick to win the tournament actually won, she wouldn’t owe us anything. If you didn’t win the tournament, she’d owe us double.”

  The more Tom talked about the bet, the less nervous he became. It was the difference between a man dreading going into a battle and a man remembering how he’d lost that battle. The latter was a much more tired and resigned affair.

  “I thought about turning down the whole bet,” Tom continued. “I may have been one of the last holdouts. Then she got even more confident and offered to pay out triple what she owed if you lost. If you won, we’d have to pay her half of what she owed us.”

  “Triple, huh? Those are pretty good odds.”

  Brightening up at the first sign of a sympathetic ear, Tom nodded. “Yeah, they were. With so many others in that tournament, and with all the things t
hat could go wrong in any game, we figured she was just trying anything she could to get out of her debt. Me and one of the other fellas in on the wager thought she’d be desperate enough to fuck us to get out of paying up.”

  Speaking from personal experience, Clint said, “That must have been tempting.”

  “She was a pretty lady,” Tom sighed. “But you won and I was put right back where I started. In debt to Delilah. I had plans for that money she owed me. Even if she paid me in pieces here and there, it would have gone a long way toward settling my debts in other spots around town.”

  “All of that goes down the river when I win the tournament, so you decide to get some payback on Delilah,” Clint said.

  Tom shook his head. “I didn’t know what was gonna happen to her. Honest, I didn’t. George asked if I wanted a chance to earn some money to make up what I lost, and if that came with a chance to make her look bad, then so be it. She wasn’t supposed to get shot. That was never part of the deal.”

  “Wasn’t George in jail?”

  “He was let out to tend to his affairs every so often,” Tom explained. “Most of the times he drank himself stupid or bedded down with some whore, but he spent a lot of time here.”

  Clint felt anger flush through his skin to make his face hot and his fists clench. It seemed Sheriff DeFalco was either one of George’s best friends or he was simply one of the laziest lawmen in the country. Either way, Clint wanted to have another word with him. Taking out those frustrations on Tom, however, wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  Sadie was through arguing at the bar and was waiting patiently for her drinks, so Clint hurried up and asked Tom, “What was the deal you had with George?”

  “I was supposed to figure out when that table was stocked with the most cash,” Tom said. “I play there so much that I’m damn near rooted to one of those chairs. George told me what to look for and how Delilah or that dark-skinned fella would act when they were sitting on a lot of money.”

  “How would George know those things?” Clint asked.

  “I don’t know, but he did. He said to watch for the big wins or the big losses. Then he told me how to spot when Carl was getting ready to take a bunch of money to the safe in back. I passed on what I saw and a day later, George comes in with guns blazing.”

  Clint narrowed his eyes as if he was staring through to Tom’s soul. “Was she really shot by accident?”

  “Yes,” Tom said instantly. “She was trying to grab Carl and pull him behind her table. It was a mistake.”

  “All right then.” With that, Clint turned and walked away.

  “What now?” Tom asked.

  “Now we play some poker.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Since Sadie insisted that her brother wouldn’t try going to the cabin until late morning or early afternoon, Clint rented a room across the street and down a ways from Pace’s Emporium. That way, they wouldn’t be sleeping somewhere that had already been attacked by the same man who was on the loose. Also, Clint could simply look out the window to get a good look at the front of Pace’s.

  If anyone was coming up the street, he could catch sight of them.

  If anyone made it into the small hotel he’d chosen for the night, he could hear the stairs squeak.

  If someone got through all of that, they would have to kick down a door and come in awfully quick to avoid catching a bullet from Clint’s modified Colt.

  “Did you see the look on that old man’s face when you asked for a room?” Sadie chuckled as she opened the drawers of the bureau situated against the wall. “I swear he looked like he was about to throw a fit.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “I believe I’ve seen him once or twice.”

  “Then he’s probably afraid I’ll take you up here to steal your virtue,” Clint said.

  Despite the fact that both of them knew what the old man was shocked about, Sadie said, “That must be it. We probably could have just stayed at that game until it was time to wait for Carl. It didn’t show any signs of stopping when we left.”

  “We’ve been playing cards for almost eight hours. Any longer and I wouldn’t be able to see much of anything other than the inside of my eyelids.”

  “Are you telling me the great Gunsmith can’t play cards all night long?” she chided.

  “Not when I’m also watching you as well as all the doors in Pace’s and everyone inside. If we stay in one place, it’ll just make it easier for someone to come after us.”

  “You still think someone is after me? Wasn’t I right about Tom?”

  “Sure,” Clint replied. “He knew plenty, but he didn’t know everything. George is still out there. He’s desperate and dumb as ever, which means we can’t predict what the hell he might do. A man like that doesn’t even try to make sense. That’s about the only thing that makes him dangerous.”

  “You could kill him on sight.” Narrowing her eyes, Sadie added, “I could kill him just as easy.”

  “I’m sure you could. All the more reason for us to get some rest instead of playing poker all night.”

  Sadie’s mood brightened when she dug her hands into the pockets of her skirts and pulled out a few small bundles of cash. “If I kept winning, they probably would have kicked us out anyway.”

  “I doubt it,” Clint grunted as he sat upon the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. “I lost more than enough to make up the difference.”

  “We could always go win it back.”

  “After all that fighting you did with that barkeep, I thought you’d be more tired than this.”

  “Oh, that was nothing,” she said with an offhanded wave. “He made a remark about never serving liquor to anyone of my color and I chewed him out for it.” Seeing the expression on Clint’s face, Sadie added, “Those were his words, not mine.”

  “Well, you gave him plenty of your own words while I was talking to Tom.”

  “I sure did. What did he say, anyhow?”

  “I’m still mulling that over. How about I tell you once I’ve drawn some more conclusions.”

  “Is that a friendly way of saying you want me to stop pestering you?”

  “More or less,” Clint replied.

  She stood in front of him as Clint sat on the edge of the bed. When Sadie looked down at him, her hair fell over her shoulder to brush against his face. Reaching out to tug at the buttons of his shirt, she asked, “What about now? You still want me to stop pestering you?”

  “Not exactly, but . . .”

  “But what? I’ve been wanting to do this all night long. You might even say I’ve wanted to do this ever since the last time you were in town.”

  Clint placed his hands upon her hips to feel the rounded curves of her body. “Then by all means, pester away.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Even though she was standing and Clint was seated, Sadie wasn’t much taller than him. As she worked the buttons on his shirt, Clint moved his hands up and down along Sadie’s body. Her round hips flowed down into strong legs, and when Clint reached around, he found a plump, inviting backside.

  “There now,” she purred. “Isn’t that nice?”

  “It sure is.”

  “You’ve done so much, why don’t you just lay back and let me do some work?”

  “Work, huh?”

  She smirked as she unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans off. “Well, I suppose that depends on how vigorous you do things.”

  Looking directly into Clint’s eyes, she wrapped her hands around his stiffening cock and stroked him up and down. The harder he got, the wider she smiled. As he grew to his full length, she even looked pleasantly surprised. The surprise became even more pleasant when Clint reached under her skirts to pull down the few garments she wore beneath them.

  Her skin was the color of chocolate and was softer than cream. Every new place he put his hands brought a new sound from the back of Sadie’s throat. Soon, she leaned her head back and stroked his cock while Clint explored every inch of warm fl
esh between her legs. She was damp when he first touched her down there, but was nearly dripping wet by the time he rubbed the sensitive nub of her clitoris.

  “Oh, Lord,” she moaned. Gathering up her skirts, she kept them up above her waist so Clint’s hand could move freely. Sadie even spread her knees apart and straddled his legs as though she were riding a horse.

  Clint was having a hell of a time watching the expression on her face turn from arousal to something much more intense. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and reached out to grip his shoulder with one hand. As her lower body started to tremble, she pumped against his fingers in short, quick little motions.

  When Clint curled his fingers inside of her, he knew the exact moment he found her sweet spot. Sadie tried to say something, but could only get out a few choppy grunts before drawing a deep breath and holding it. Her grip on his shoulder tightened and she bit down on her lower lip. For a few seconds, she was completely still. Then, an orgasm pulsed through her from head to toe and she let out a slow sigh.

  Opening her eyes, Sadie said, “I was supposed to be the one doing the work.”

  “Then get started,” Clint told her.

  She raised her eyebrows at the challenging tone in his voice and slid her hand all the way down to the base of his erection. Lifting herself up onto her tip-toes, she positioned her hips over him and guided his cock between the moist lips of her pussy. Sadie ground back and forth while slowly taking him inside. When he was in far enough, she placed her hand upon his shoulder and eased the rest of the way down.

  Clint grabbed on to her hips and started to pump, but was stopped when she pressed more of her weight down upon him. Now that he was pinned beneath her, Sadie warned, “I’m the one doing the work, remember? You just sit there and let me do it.”

  Although Clint wasn’t about to let go of her, he loosened his grip so his hands were just resting upon her sides. She wriggled back and forth while pulling her dress up over her head. There was some tugging and squirming involved, but the dress was soon on the floor behind her. Besides that, Clint didn’t mind her squirming one bit.