“No.”
She was wearing a purple robe over her nightgown, belted tightly at the waist. He was still dressed.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“The usual,” he said. “Business.”
“The boy?”
“Among other things.”
“What are you going to do now that you know the Gunsmith is involved?”
“Tomorrow I’m going into town.”
“To try to kill him?”
“To see him,” he said. “Talk to him. See what he knows.”
“What do you think he knows?”
“I have no idea,” Perryman said. “That’s why I want to talk to him.”
“Who are you taking with you?”
“Kendall.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all I need to talk to him, Veronica,” he answered.
“And then?” she asked, folding her arms. “After you find out what he knows?”
“Then I’ll decide,” Perryman said. “My whole career has been predicated on making informed decisions, my dear.”
“Like the one you made about marrying me?”
He smiled and said, “Exactly.”
“Milton,” she said, dropping her arms to her sides, “you better be right.”
“My dear,” he said, “when will you learn that I’m always right?”
She just turned and left the room.
* * *
After his wife left, Perryman stood and poured himself some more brandy. He sat back down, swirled the amber liquid in the glass, and stared into it, as if it had properties that would help tell him the future.
It didn’t.
It wasn’t going to be quite that easy.
* * *
Upstairs in the room they shared, Veronica sat on the bed. She knew her husband thought he was always right, but she had her doubts. And she was not ready to give up everything they had just because he was stubborn.
That meant that she was going to have to take some steps of her own to make sure that didn’t happen.
TWENTY-ONE
Lily was not only nervous, but shy about showing her body.
“Could we put the lights out first?” she said when Clint’s hands began to work on her clothes.
“I want to see you,” he said.
“That’s just it,” she said. “I don’t want you to see me.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Lily,” he told her. “What have you got to be ashamed of?”
“I’m forty-five years old, Clint.”
“You were confident enough to come here tonight,” he said. “You knew you’d get into my room.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“But what?”
“You’re a man,” she said. “Men will usually take whatever a woman is willing to give them—and more.”
“Well,” he said, lowering the top of her dress so that her breasts were bare, “I can assure you, you wouldn’t be here unless I wanted you.”
Her breasts were large, bottom heavy, with dark nipples that were already hard. He rubbed his palm over one nipple and she shivered, gooseflesh appearing all over.
“Still want the lights out?” he asked, cupping one breast in his hand.
“What lights?” she asked.
He smiled and kissed her, while his hands bared even more of her flesh . . .
* * *
Walt Billings started to get nervous about remaining in the hotel lobby. He determined that Clint Adams was, indeed, staying at that hotel. Adams had gone up to his room with Lily, the madam from Maddy’s whorehouse, so what were the chances he’d be coming back down anytime soon? Probably slim, but Walt was still uncomfortable, especially when the place emptied out and it was just him and the desk clerk.
He decided to leave the hotel, but keep an eye on it from outside. His boss didn’t give him a time limit for this job, and Billings certainly didn’t have the wherewithal to make that kind of a decision for himself.
He figured to be at it all night.
* * *
Clint peeled Lily’s clothes from her, and when she was completely naked, he laid her down on the bed.
Lily found his touch and his kisses incredibly tender, nothing she’d ever experienced before with a man. Most of the men she had ever been with had left behind bruises on her pale flesh. The only color change on her skin now was a red flush that covered her from head to toe. It had been such a long time since she’d felt anything akin to desire or passion for a man that it took her a little while to recognize them.
And when she did, she smiled.
* * *
Clint enjoyed Lily’s body. She was a mature woman, and the extra flesh she wore did nothing to dampen his ardor. She was, in fact, exactly his type, and he was extremely pleased with how she felt and tasted.
Lily was submissive, didn’t resist when he took over. He explored her body with his hands and mouth, from head to toe, before concentrating all his attention between her legs.
She moaned and gasped as he tongued her, enflamed her, until she was writhing beneath him uncontrollably. He mounted her then, even before the waves of pleasure began to wane, so that rather than fade, they simply transitioned into a whole new set . . .
* * *
“That was . . .” she said, trailing off.
“Nice,” he said.
They were lying side by side on the bed, naked, he on his back and she balled up next to him, her arms encircling her knees.
“I was going to say it was like ‘the first time,’” she went on. “I know that sounds idiotic for a woman of my age to say, but . . . see, my actual first time was . . . I was fourteen, and my father . . . sold me to this man to settle a debt. From that point on, I was just an . . . object. Later, he sold me to a whorehouse, and the rest is, well, history.”
“So you’ve never enjoyed sex.”
“No,” she said, then reached out to touch him and added, “until now.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
“Oh, you did more than help,” she said. She uncoiled now and stretched. “You’ve transformed me.”
“Lily—”
“No, no,” she said, “I don’t just mean tonight. I mean the moment you walked into my place with that child and put him in my arms.”
“Oh.”
She rolled onto her stomach and looked at him, brushing the hair from her eyes.
“You two men,” she said. “My life’s never gonna be the same now.”
“In what way?”
“Well, you’ll leave, of course,” she said, “and I’m thinking . . . I’m thinking of taking the boy myself.”
“Ah,” he said.
“Ah, indeed,” she said. “A whore with a baby.”
“I wasn’t thinking that, at all.”
“But everyone else will.”
“What they think doesn’t matter,” Clint said.
“No,” she said, “only what you think, because you’re the one who can give him to me.”
“Well, not legally.”
“I’m not talking about legally,” she said. “I mean, I know the West is much more civilized than it used to be, but who’s going to care if you give me that baby?”
“Well, Doc Simon might have something to say about it.”
“I don’t think we’ll have to worry about him,” she said, stretching again. Before he could ask what she meant, she reached between his legs and said, “You’re not tired, are you?”
As she stroked him to life, he said, “I think you know the answer to that.”
TWENTY-TWO
While they didn’t plan it, Lily ended up spending the night in Clint’s room. They slept, woke, made love, slept, woke, made love . . . well, several times. By morning they were
both pleasantly exhausted.
Clint watched while Lily got dressed.
“Sure you don’t want to go downstairs for breakfast?” he asked her.
“I’ve got to get back,” she said. “The girls will take time off if I’m not there. And I want to check on the baby.”
“Are you really going to call him Happy?”
“Not after that clown remark you made,” she said. “We’re still trying to come up with a name.”
“Well, pick carefully,” Clint said. “The name might actually stick.”
She walked to the bed and kissed him.
“Thank you, Clint.”
“I think I should thank you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Lily—”
“I’ll see you again soon,” she said, and left the room.
* * *
Kendall knocked on the door of the house that morning, was admitted by the housekeeper.
“Mr. Perryman is having breakfast,” she said. “He wants you to wait here.”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll just be in the living—”
“No,” she said, “he was very specific that you wait right here, by the door.”
Kendall studied her to see if she was telling the truth, then said, “Yeah, okay.”
“I’ll tell him you’re here.”
He nodded.
* * *
“What is it?” Perryman asked as the housekeeper entered the dining room.
“Mr. Kendall is here.”
“Is he waiting?”
“Yes, sir. By the door, as you asked.”
“Good. Thank you.”
As she left, his wife leaned forward and asked, “Why don’t you let him come in and have some breakfast?”
“I don’t want to have breakfast with one of my ranch hands, dear,” he said. “Besides, I’m sure he had breakfast in the bunkhouse.”
“Well, how long will you make him wait?”
“Until I finish my breakfast.”
She looked at his plate, which was almost empty.
“Can I persuade you to take more men?”
“Not this time,” he said. “Don’t worry, it will be fine.”
“And the baby—”
“The boy will be dealt with.”
“How?”
He put his napkin down and stood up.
“I don’t think you want to know that.”
“Milton—”
“You didn’t want to know the details about the family,” he reminded her. “So I’m sure you won’t want to know this. I’ll see you later.”
* * *
He found Kendall waiting by the door.
“The horses outside?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s go, then.”
“Um . . .”
“What is it?”
“Do you think we need more men, sir?”
“We’re only going to talk to the man, Kendall,” Perryman said. “He’s not going to shoot us.”
“Are you sure?” Kendall asked. “I mean . . . that’s what he does, ain’t it?”
“Just do as I tell you and everything will be fine,” Perryman said. “All right?”
“Yes, sir,” Kendall said. “All right.”
* * *
Clint got dressed and went down for breakfast. It was just easier to have it right there in the hotel. Once again his meal was interrupted as Sheriff Murphy walked in and approached his table.
“Coffee?” Clint asked.
“Definitely.”
Murphy sat down.
“How about breakfast?”
“I had something . . . oh, all right.” He looked at the waiter. “Bacon and eggs.”
“Sure, Sheriff.”
Clint poured Murphy a cup of coffee and went back to his meal.
“Find Willie?” Clint asked.
“Not yet.”
“Could he have left town?”
“Where would he go?”
“Into hiding?”
“Willie doesn’t know anyplace else,” Murphy said. “If he’s hidin’, he doin’ it in town.”
“Maybe I should help you look,” Clint said, “go door-to-door.”
Murphy shrugged and said, “Why not, but if I was you, I’d expect a visit from Milton Perryman today.”
“If that does happen,” Clint assured him, “I’ll be ready for him.”
TWENTY-THREE
Milton Perryman and his man, Kendall, rode into town an hour later. Clint and the sheriff were just coming out of the hotel. They had taken their time over breakfast.
“There he is,” Sheriff Murphy said.
“Perryman?”
“Yeah.”
Clint watched the two men ride by.
“That man with him,” he said, “he was one of the men who braced me. He was there when I had to kill the foreman.”
“Looks like they’re headin’ for my office.”
“I tell you what,” Clint said, grabbing a chair, “you go and talk to them and I’ll wait right here. You bring them over to me.”
“Is there gonna be any trouble?” Murphy asked.
“Not on my part,” Clint assured him. “I’m not looking for any trouble.”
“Yeah, okay,” Murphy said. “I’ll bring ’em over.”
Clint sat down in the chair and watched as Murphy crossed the street and walked to his office. From his vantage point he could see that the two men had reined in their horses in front of the sheriff’s office.
He settled into his chair to wait.
* * *
As Murphy entered his office, Perryman and his man, Kendall, turned to face him.
“There you are, Sheriff,” Perryman said.
“Mr. Perryman.”
“I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but one of my men was killed yesterday. My foreman, Kane.”
“I heard,” Murphy said, moving around behind his desk.
“We know who did it. Kendall here was a witness.”
“So do I.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothin’.”
“Why not?” Perryman asked. “Are you afraid of the Gunsmith?”
“Not at all,” the lawman said. “In fact, I just had breakfast with him. He’s a very pleasant fellow.”
“If you know the Gunsmith killed Kane, why aren’t you arresting him?”
“Because Kane pressed him,” Murphy said, “forced his hand. He had no choice.”
“Why do you believe that?”
“Because I knew Kane,” Murphy said. “You did, too, Mr. Perryman. You know it’s true. Kendall here must’ve told you.”
Kendall kept conspicuously quiet, glanced over at his boss.
“You’re probably right,” Perryman said finally. “I guess I’d better talk to the man myself. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not at all.”
“Can you tell me where he is?”
“You passed him on the way into town,” Murphy said. “He’s sitting in front of the hotel up the street.”
“The hotel.”
“That’s right.”
“Well,” Perryman said, “I’m going to walk over there and have a talk with him.”
“That’s fine.”
“I suppose he knows I’m coming?”
“He does.”
“You told him?”
“Yeah.”
Perryman turned, walked to the door, then turned back.
“I guess I’m going to have to talk to the mayor about your job, Sheriff.”
“You do that, Mr. Perryman,” Murphy said. “If you find somebody else who wants this job, you let me know.”
Kendall turned and looked at the lawman.
“Aw, Murphy,” he said.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Kendall,” Murphy said.
“I’ll try not to.”
He followed his boss out the door, and up the street.
* * *
Clint saw the two men walking toward him. They had left their horses behind, in front of the sheriff’s office. He sat back in the chair and watched them, his hand down by his gun.
The older man he assumed was Perryman mounted the boardwalk and approached. The other man—the one he recognized—stood behind and to the right. He looked nervous.
“Mr. Adams?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m Milton Perryman.”
“Mr. Perryman.”
“You killed one of my men yesterday.”
“He didn’t give me much of a choice.”
“That may be so,” Perryman said, “but you understand I can’t let something like that go without reprisal.”
“Reprisal?”
“Unless you leave town,” Perryman went on, “today.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I have unfinished business,” Clint said. “You see, someone killed a family a few days ago, and I found the last surviving member. A little boy. And now he’s my responsibility. Do you understand that?” Clint suddenly knew that this man had something to do with the massacre of the boy’s family. “My responsibility. That means I won’t let anything happen to him. Do you understand?”
“And why would I have to understand that, Mr. Adams?” Perryman asked. “I know nothing of such things. The only murder I know of is you killing my foreman. Take my advice. Leave town.”
“Take my advice,” Clint said. “Confess what you did, turn yourself in. It’s the only way you’ll be safe from me.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No threat,” Clint said. “Just fact.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Clint entered the sheriff’s office.
“What?” Murphy said. “I didn’t hear any shots.”
“He did it,” Clint said.
“Did what?”
“He had that family killed,” Clint said.
“Are you sure?”
Death in the Family Page 7