The Clint Adams Special

by J. R. Roberts

  “What the hell’s wrong with you? First you seem nervous that I’m here and then you don’t want me to leave.”

  Drina had been watching him while trying to keep a smile on her face, but her eyes darted over to the window close to the front door. Then she looked at the door itself as it was opened.

  Clint stepped inside as if he were strolling into his childhood home. When VanTreaton started to reach for his gun, Clint drew his Colt in one fluid motion.

  “Don’t embarrass yourself in front of the lady,” Clint said. “Drop the gun belt before I put you down like a rabid dog.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  “I’m sorry, John,” Drina said to VanTreaton. “I didn’t have a choice. He found me before you got here.”

  “Shut yer damn mouth, bitch,” VanTreaton snarled. “I’ll take care of you later.”

  “No, you won’t,” Clint told him. “And unless you play your cards right, you won’t be doing anything to anyone else again.”

  Turning his angry gaze toward Clint, VanTreaton grunted, “What do you want?”

  “I want to know where your partners are.”

  “I tried to find that out for you, Clint,” Drina said. “Honestly! I asked him about them so you wouldn’t have to go through the trouble.”

  “Keep quiet,” Clint snapped.

  “But . . .”

  “You meant to stab me in the back by throwing in with this jasper and his friends,” Clint said. “Just because it didn’t work out for you doesn’t mean I should be grateful to you for anything.”

  Drina opened her mouth but choked back any words she might have been about to say. Then, she pressed a hand to her mouth as if to prevent anything from slipping out.

  “Good,” Clint said after Drina proved she could keep quiet. “Now get over into that chair and stay there.”

  She found a chair in a corner, wrapped herself in the dress she’d stripped out of not too long ago, and sat down.

  “As for you,” Clint said to VanTreaton. “Go ahead and strap that gun belt on.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Go ahead and arm yourself. Otherwise, you’ll just be preoccupied with trying to get to your gun and you won’t listen to what I have to say. I don’t like repeating myself, so let’s just get this part over with.”

  VanTreaton kept his eyes on Clint as he squatted down and felt around on the floor with one hand. His fingertips brushed against the leather of the gun belt he’d dropped, but he eventually had to glance down to make sure he was grabbing it properly. When he looked back to Clint, he was even more tightly wound than before.

  Clint waited until the gun belt was buckled around VanTreaton’s waist before speaking again. “There. Now that that’s out of the way, are you ready to pay attention?”

  VanTreaton watched Clint closely. His hand drifted toward the pistol holstered at his side, and his eyes took on a steely glare.

  “Or would you rather be stupid?” Clint asked. “If that’s the case, then I’d rather you go ahead and get it out of the way to save us both a lot of time.”

  “You think I won’t do it?” VanTreaton growled.

  “I’m not quite sure, to be honest.”

  “You made a mistake letting me arm myself.”

  “You think so? I guess we’ll find out. The way I see it, there’s only three choices. You can draw first, kill me, and celebrate with the lady over there. I can draw first, kill you, and go about my business.”

  After waiting for a second of intolerable silence, VanTreaton asked, “The third?”

  “We can have the talk I came here for and then both be on our way. You make the call.”

  Sizing up the man in front of him, VanTreaton eased his hand away from his holster.

  “Good decision,” Clint said. “You’re here on Preston’s behalf, but not Allan’s.”

  VanTreaton’s eyes narrowed as he turned a hateful stare toward Drina’s corner.

  “I had to tell him!” she cried. “He showed up before you arrived and he forced me!”

  Actually, when Clint had found the cabin where Drina was staying, she’d let him inside willingly. Their conversation had been relatively short and she’d parted with what little she knew relatively easily. A guilty conscience tended to do that to some folks, especially when they figured there was no way of coming up with a lie good enough to get them out of their predicament.

  “Shut yer damn mouth,” VanTreaton said to her.

  “Don’t be too cross with her,” Clint said. “I would have figured it out. Every time I’ve seen Allan Preston, he’s had a small group of men with him and you’ve never been one of them. Since every member of the Preston family is after this gold, it stands to reason that El General would send some men of his own down here to fetch it for him. What really tipped the scales is that you never asked her about the map. Isn’t that what you told me, Drina?”

  She turned away from them both. Like most backstabbers, she preferred to be long gone before having to answer for whatever she’d done.

  “Yeah, I work for Jeb Preston,” VanTreaton said. “That ain’t no secret. Just like it’s no secret that he knows where his own damn gold is hid.”

  “Which brings me back to my first question. Where are the rest of Jeb’s men?”

  “They’re here,” VanTreaton said with a cruel grin. “Here and there. Waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Waiting for someone to slip up, and they didn’t have to wait long, now did they?”

  Clint was starting to get lost, but figured all he needed to do was keep the man talking. Eventually, he would say everything Clint needed to hear. “You’re talking about how Allan slipped up?” Clint asked, even though he had no idea if Allan had slipped up about anything at all.

  Clint’s poker face must have held because VanTreaton nodded right away. “Yer damn right he slipped up! Breaking away from the Corps is something only a fool would do, especially since Jeb’s got close to an entire county locked up with more to come. For a Preston to break away . . . well that’s a goddamn mortal sin.”

  “The core?” Clint asked.

  “No. The Corps. A group of men, training and working together.” VanTreaton’s face cracked apart into a smug grin. “When you were at the ranch them years ago, Jeb was a businessman looking out for his interests.”

  “He was forming a militia,” Clint said.

  “Call it what you like, but he did more than that. He put together the Corps, and a good part of that was on account of them Clint Adams Specials you made for him. I wouldn’t have thought so much could be accomplished with a batch of rifles, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t wrong.”

  He was very wrong about that, Clint knew. For proof, all anyone needed to do was look at how things were before and after the contributions of men with names like Colt and Winchester. But Clint wasn’t about to mention any of that. VanTreaton was pleased with himself enough already.

  “Them guns you made,” VanTreaton continued. “They were real quality merchandise. When Jebediah put them in the right hands, things really started swinging his direction. The raiding parties he sent out were like demons. They’d clean out anyone who stood in their way.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Clint said.

  “Sure there is. Jebediah Preston is a great man.”

  “Sounds to me like he’s a ruthless killer in charge of other ruthless killers.”

  “Call ’em what you like. They got the job done.”

  “But that great man of yours couldn’t even keep his own family together,” Clint said. “Doesn’t sound so impressive to me.”

  “Ain’t nobody’s perfect.”

  “Tell me where the others are.”

  “Go to hell,” VanTreaton snapped.

  Clint looked over to Drina. “Then you’ll tell me.�
��

  “I . . . I can’t,” she sputtered.

  She was frightened for her life, but she knew. Clint was certain of that now. It was the look in her eyes and the tremor in her voice which told him even more than the fact that she’d said, “I can’t,” instead of, “I don’t know.”

  “Yes you can,” Clint said. “And you will.”

  “Please,” she whined.

  Suddenly, VanTreaton turned on her like an animal. “Shut yer goddamn mouth, bitch!”

  “You’re not leaving here with that gold,” Clint said. “Jebediah Preston sent you here to do his dirty work because he’s too yellow to do it himself.”

  “That’s not true! He’ll put you down yourself when he gets here.”

  “He’s a coward.”

  “And you’re a fucking ungrateful son of a bitch for not joining up with the Corps when you had yer chance!” VanTreaton roared.

  “I know a losing hand when I see it,” Clint told him. “And I’m looking at one right now.”

  VanTreaton spat out a string of obscenities that was nearly unintelligible as he reached for the gun at his side. The barrel of his pistol was about to clear leather when Clint drew his Colt and used it to drill two fresh holes through VanTreaton’s heart.

  VanTreaton twisted around on the balls of his feet, rolling with the momentum of the impacts, before dropping to the floor. He would take his angry, vaguely surprised expression to his grave.

  THIRTY-TWO

  “All right,” Clint said as he walked over to VanTreaton’s body. “You don’t have to be frightened anymore.” When he didn’t hear a response, he looked up and over to Drina in her corner. “Did you hear me?”

  “Oh . . . yes,” she whispered as she pressed herself against the closest wall. “I thought . . .”

  “Thought I was talking to him? He can’t trouble you any longer. Can’t do anything else to you either.”

  “He and I . . . it wasn’t like with me and you, Clint.”

  Shaking his head, Clint picked up VanTreaton’s gun and walked over to her. “No need for any of that. Just tell me what I want to know.”

  “But . . . I told you when you came over before—”

  “You told me plenty of things,” Clint interrupted. “Some of them I believe and some were boldfaced lies.”

  Peeling herself away from the wall, Drina stepped forward while trembling like a dry leaf on a bare twig. “Please don’t kill me,” she said.

  “The only time you’d need to worry about that would be if you made a move as stupid as he did,” Clint replied while nodding toward VanTreaton. “Fight back the urge to shoot me and you’ll be fine. I’d also appreciate it if you could tell me the rest of what I want to know.”

  “I kept him busy for a while like you asked, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did. You also told me there were men in town who answer only to Jebediah Preston. Where are they?”

  For a moment, it seemed that she might stick to her guns by insisting she didn’t know. Then Drina took a long look at the carcass on the floor and thought better of it. “They’re camped in one of the caves about a quarter of a mile south of town.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Four or five. That’s all I saw when I was there. Well,” she added, “one less now.”

  “How do you know them?”

  “I was angry when I heard George talking about all the gold he’d found. I thought we were partners on that venture.”

  “You got the venture rolling,” Clint said. “For that, you wanted a fee and you were paid. That was the end of our deal.”

  “Well, I should have been given a taste of what you found. After all, you wouldn’t have—” She stopped when Clint raised a hand, and she flinched as if she expected that hand to swat her across the face.

  Clint didn’t like a woman thinking that of him, but he didn’t have the time or inclination to coddle her. “What did that one offer you?” he asked while pointing over to VanTreaton.

  “It wasn’t him who spoke to me. It was Cal Landry. He’s a sergeant in Jebediah’s Corps. He offered me five hundred dollars’ worth of those gold coins if I showed them how to clean out Allan and his men. A thousand if I also brought the map to him.”

  “How long have Landry and the others been here?”

  “Maybe two weeks or so. They’ve been watching the town and waiting to see how much you and George would bring back from those caves.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then,” she said, “he means to take it. But he’s not as interested in the gold so much as he is in the rifles you found.”

  “I’ll just bet he is,” Clint said with a laugh. “Nice try, but it doesn’t take much to come up with that after what you heard me and VanTreaton talking about a few minutes ago.”

  “I’m not making it up,” she insisted.

  Clint studied her and couldn’t find anything in her eyes or mannerism to make him think she was lying. She was too damn scared.

  “All right, then,” he said. “I’ll trust you. Do one more thing for me and I’ll see to it that you get that gold you were promised.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Keep them away from the livery down on Cruces Street. At least until this time tomorrow.”

  Drina nodded vigorously. “I can do that. Usually one of them comes along every morning. They’ll want to know what happened with . . .” She trailed off when she glanced in the direction of the dead body. In a somber tone, she said, “I can do that.”

  “Good. Don’t you double-cross me.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  “She’s gonna double-cross you,” George sneered.

  Clint stood near the window of a small room. “You think I don’t know that?” Clint snapped.

  “Then why did you trust her?”

  “I didn’t trust her.”

  “That’s not what I gathered after what you told me.”

  Allowing the lace curtain to fall back into place over the window, Clint sat down on a chair that was just a bit too small to hold a grown man comfortably. “She’s angry about missing out on the gold, but she’s no idiot. She just saw a man killed and didn’t have it in her to lie about that other group of men being in town.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried about those other men being in town. I mean, considering what we found in those caves and how many more there are left to explore, it only makes sense that someone else would come looking for them. I don’t think they’ve been here as long as she says, though.”

  Having spotted a bit of movement on the street outside, Clint glanced through the window to find an old stoop-backed drunk staggering from one darkened doorway to another. Considering dawn was only a few hours away, that was about all he’d seen out there since he’d arrived to bring George up to snuff on what had happened recently. “Why don’t you believe that part?” he asked.

  “Because . . . wouldn’t they have made a move against us by now?”

  “Why would they? They’re after the gold. Gold is heavy. If you were in their shoes, wouldn’t you sit back while someone else did all the heavy lifting?”

  George sat upright on the bed with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched in front of him. His feet still nearly came to the end of the mattress. “Yeah, I see what you mean,” he grumbled. “Especially since so much of that dragging was through those caves. Those goddamn caves. I almost wish I never heard of them with all the trouble they are.” Glancing around as if he was worried about upsetting the fates, he added, “Almost.”

  Despite everything that had been happening, Clint couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of George trying to get comfortable. “How on earth did you settle on this place for us to stay?” he asked.

  “Before you went traipsing off to do . . . whatever you’ve been doing . . . I distinctly recall yo
u asking me to find a safe spot to hang our hats.”

  “I did.”

  “Well,” George said while stretching out his arms to encompass the entire quaint little room. “Here you go. Feels mighty safe to me.”

  “It might feel a little better if it was big enough for us both to be in here without knocking something over every time we turn around.”

  “Would you rather stay in a saloon or the hotel, where anyone with half a brain would come looking for us?”

  Instead of dignifying that with an answer, Clint merely grunted as he tried to find a way to sit on his chair without hurting himself.

  “Didn’t think so,” George said. “This room was being rented for next to nothing while the kid who normally stays here is working on her aunt’s chicken farm. The woman who owns this house won’t tell a soul we’re here, by the way. She and I got along like old friends.”

  “Splendid.”

  George crossed his legs and folded his arms over his chest, which still didn’t make him look like he was at ease on that bed. “So who’s this man you shot?”

  “John VanTreaton. He’s worked for Jeb Preston for some time.”

  “And you tried to have me believe you never heard of Jebediah Preston.”

  “When I was in Texas at that time, he was using the name ‘Martin Stone.’ Allan Preston was using his real name, but he wasn’t . . . forget it. That was then and this is right now. Got it?”

  George shrugged. “I wasn’t arguing that point.”

  “Then why were we talking about it?” When George shrugged yet again, Clint fought the urge to shoot him. After he took a breath, he got a better grip on his temper. Shooting would have been a bit much. Pistol whipping, on the other hand, seemed about right.

  “So what do we do now?” George asked.

  “I was getting to that. After I saw Ramon, I went to pay a visit to Drina. I knew she wasn’t telling me everything just yet, but I asked her to keep VanTreaton busy for a while so I could collect some things to barter.”

  Sighing, George asked, “How much of the gold did you take?”