The Clint Adams Special
Page 15
“That’s a splendid idea. Where’s that nephew of mine and that pretty little granddaughter?”
Clint drew a deep breath and faced the others in that shop with him. “All right. This is it. Now we’ll see where Jeb’s heart truly is.”
“Damn it, I already told you where it is,” Allan snarled.
“Don’t you want to be sure?”
“Yes,” Felicia said. “Clint’s right. We need to be sure.”
Now it was Allan’s turn to fill his lungs. After a slow exhale, he looked to Clint and asked, “You’re sure about this?”
“It’s what I do.”
“What the hell,” Allan sighed. “Henry, Wes, you two don’t need to go with us.”
Wes shrugged. “We’re as good as dead if we don’t. Might as well gamble.”
Before any of them could change their minds, Clint stood in front of the window with his hands held high. Allan, Felicia, and everyone else that was left inside the shop did the same.
“It’s good to see you all in one place,” Jebediah said with an approving nod. “It’ll be even better to put an end to this troublesome business.” He then raised his hand, held it high for a count of one, and dropped it in a sharp chopping motion.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Landry and all of the others flanking him opened fire.
FORTY
Clint, Allan, and everyone inside Ramon’s place dropped to the floor. The first barrage shattered the window and punched holes through the wall and the front door. Broken glass and wood splinters rained over all of those who hunkered down with their faces pressed against the floor. In a matter of seconds, the roar of gunfire took a different tone. Along with the shots, louder explosions rippled through the air followed by cries of pain and angry swearing. Clint lifted his head just enough to get a look through the window.
Outside, half of the men had either fallen from their saddles or dropped where they stood. The scent of burnt gunpowder mixed with the acrid scent of scorched metal. The men who were still upright looked around in confusion at what had happened to the others.
When Clint stood up to go outside through the front door, Allan was right behind him.
Two of Landry’s men were splayed on the ground in a bloody mess. One was missing a good portion of his face and didn’t move. The other could only twitch in pain while nursing what remained of his mangled right hand.
Although shocked by the turn of events, Jebediah’s gunmen were quick to react. Clint, however, was quicker. When the old man’s guards took aim with their pistols, Clint drew his Colt and fired with deadly precision. Two of the guards were knocked clean off their horses, and once Allan opened fire, the other two followed them straight to hell. A few of Landry’s men rushed around from the back of Ramon’s shop, only to be cut down by covering fire from Henry and Wes, who’d emerged from the broken storefront.
The remaining gunmen put up a fight until Landry himself caught a bullet in the chest and dropped into a heap. A few more shots put down the last of the gunmen who wanted to fight, leaving only one with the good sense to hold his bloody hands over his head and surrender.
Jebediah had a gun in his hand, but was too stunned to use it. He barely even noticed when Allan stepped up to him and took the pistol away. “Wh-What happened?” the old man asked. “What happened?”
The gunshots had faded but the smoke still hung in the air. Clint reached down for one of the rifles used by Landry’s men and held it up for all to see. The weapon’s firing mechanism was blasted apart, leaving the metal casing and trigger badly scorched. “This is what happened,” he said.
Jebediah looked down at the rifle. “That’s one of mine.”
“No,” Clint snapped. “It’s one of mine. I had a friend of mine buy me some time so I could fix every last one of these to backfire.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I believe there’s a saying, Uncle Jeb,” Allan said. “It’s got something to do with giving a man enough rope to hang himself.”
“This could have all been settled amicably,” Clint told him. “Not one shot had to be fired.”
“But Cal—he—he told me that you were going to burn my map,” Jebediah sputtered. “He said we couldn’t storm the place.”
“That wasn’t your only choice, Grandpa,” Felicia said as she stepped out of the store. “You’ve hurt too many people. All in the name of money. We’ve got plenty of money. This madness ends here and now.”
Jebediah’s head drooped forward. Whether it was due to the reminder of how quickly fortunes could turn or the sight of his own kin lining up against him, he suddenly lost the last bit of fight left in him. Allan helped him down from his horse while Wes and Henry walked over to George and freed him. George’s guard surrendered without a fight, then Wes took charge of him and the last wounded gunman.
“Clint!” George said as he hurried over to him. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. None of these rifles made it, though.”
“Wasn’t that the plan?”
“Sure it was,” Clint said. “They were still some mighty fine pieces. It’s a shame to see them go.”
“It’s a shame to see all of this go. Especially after the trouble we went through to get it.”
“If you’re talking about the gold,” Allan said, “it’s yours. You earned it.”
“Are you sure about that?” Clint asked.
Allan nodded. “Our family has enough money as it is, and we’ll make up for what we lost when we sell off the property that was so damn important to Uncle Jeb. The Prestons will still be wealthy ranchers in Texas, which is where we belong.”
Felicia nodded as she watched her grandfather being led away by Henry. “I don’t want to see another one of those damn coins again.”
Slapping his hands together and rubbing them vigorously, George said, “All right then. Now we’ve just got to find Ramon!”
Watch for
THE COUNTERFEIT GUNSMITH
393rd novel in the exciting GUNSMITH series from Jove
Coming in September!