Shadow Walker

by J. R. Roberts

  Apart from the sleepy guard, Clint counted less than half a dozen other men in uniform. There were several other folks wandering around, but they were either civilians or very casual army personnel. Further strengthening what Maddie had told him, there were signs nailed to the larger structures over the markings that had been there before.

  The blockhouse was now a dry good’s store and the officer’s quarters had apparently been converted into a hotel or boardinghouse. The stables were still intact, but now charged for their services. There were a few buildings that weren’t labeled, but Clint didn’t need a sign to tell what a saloon looked like. He also had to assume there was some place where the working girls could be found, since he didn’t see many women moving about in the open.

  As much as Clint wanted to find Sergeant Bray, he decided not to ride in and draw attention right away. Instead, he put Eclipse up in the livery and asked the man taking the fees where he could find something to do.

  “Just follow yer ears,” the liveryman told him. “You want liquor, listen for the drunks. You want a woman, listen for them, too. It ain’t like you can get lost around here.”

  Oddly enough, that lazy explanation came from one of the few men actually wearing a uniform.

  When Clint stepped outside again, he caught sight of a short man leaning against the building directly across from the livery. Clint took two steps in that direction, which was enough to cause the man to turn and walk away.

  Although Clint hadn’t gotten too long of a look, he could tell the man was an Indian. After circling around that building, Clint couldn’t find a trace of him.

  EIGHTEEN

  Although the liveryman wasn’t very detailed in his directions, they turned out to be all Clint needed. The signs nailed over the originals were either too cracked to read or written in paint so old and cheap that it had flaked off to the point of being illegible. But all Clint needed to do was follow his ears.

  The saloon sounded like most other saloons at this time of night. There were loud voices and the sounds of someone trying to play a banjo coming from inside a narrow building in the center of the fort. But Clint was drawn more to the large square building, which had to have been the enlisted men’s quarters.

  That building was two floors tall and had several of the upper, front windows knocked completely out. Inside those windows, he could see women sitting and fanning themselves while tossing lazy smiles down at him. There was plenty to listen to as well, since some of the more enthusiastic women were doing their best to make their current customers feel good about whatever they were doing.

  Clint glanced up at the women in the windows, but didn’t return their smiles. Instead, he looked at them the way a rancher would inspect his herd. He kept that businesslike expression on his face as he walked inside and stepped up to the first person who looked as if they worked there.

  The inside of the place was unlike any of the other cathouses Clint had been to recently. While most others looked like actual houses, this one looked as if it had been put through very few changes since it was under official army jurisdiction. Apart from a few decorations thrown here and there, the place still felt like a barracks. The halls were narrow. The doors were many and evenly spaced. There was still even the smell of boot polish in the air.

  “Hello there,” a middle-aged, brown-haired woman said as she stepped in from the next room. “Did you just arrive?”

  “Yes. I’m here to meet up with a friend of mine.”

  The woman wore a plain dress that was buttoned low enough to show a generous amount of cleavage, but not low enough to show much else. “We’ve got plenty of friendly girls here.”

  “It’s not a girl I’m after.”

  The woman raised her eyebrows and cocked her head slightly.

  “And it’s not like that, either,” Clint clarified. “I’m here on business. The man I’m to meet should either be here already or might have passed through recently. His name’s Coltraine.”

  When she heard that, the woman’s face lost all of its friendliness. “Oh. He hasn’t been around yet.”

  “Is he expected?”

  “Yes,” she replied, as if she were referring to an infection that was being passed around. “But he’s not here yet. If you want to wait for him, you’ll have to do it somewhere else.”

  Clint could hear the disgust dripping from the woman’s tone. He felt a fair amount of it himself, simply due to the part he was playing. As much as he wanted to tell her what he was really after, Clint was too close to slip up now. If he’d learned anything during his visits to these cathouses, it was that it was safest to assume someone was keeping an eye on what was going on.

  “I’ll check back later,” Clint said. “If he does come around, I’d like to be told about it.”

  At first, the woman looked as if she fully intended on telling Clint to stuff his request up his ass. Then, a twinge of fear showed in the corner of her eye as she nodded and lowered her eyes. “Will you be staying at the hotel or at the saloon?”

  “The saloon.”

  “Fine.”

  Clint knew he was playing a role and knew he wouldn’t let that role harm anyone in any way. He also knew that it felt like shit to be looked at as just another one of the scum in Coltraine’s line of work.

  “Here,” he said while holding out a few dollars to the woman. “Take this for your trouble.”

  The woman looked surprised when she saw the money and grateful once she had it in her own hands. The fear quickly returned, however, after she tucked the money away. “I’ll be sure to let you know when he arrives.”

  “Thanks.”

  Clint left the cathouse and stepped outside. The air was cooling off a bit, but not enough to make him feel comfortable. He took the next few minutes to walk around the fort and familiarize himself with the layout. Just as the liveryman had promised, there wasn’t much to see.

  Despite what he’d told the woman in the cathouse, Clint had no intention of staying in a room at the saloon. If anything, he would rent a room in whatever passed for a hotel there. That way, he could watch the saloon without having to sleep there in case the wrong person heard about his arrangement and decided to kill him in his sleep.

  Actually, the more he thought about it, the more Clint figured he wouldn’t sleep anywhere inside the fort’s walls. The whole place had a dirty feel to it as though the air itself were filthy.

  As he walked around, Clint found two small buildings that weren’t being used for anything. One of those was a smaller stable that had probably been used for officer’s horses or possibly overflow from the regular livery. At the moment, it was dark, empty, and wasn’t far from the saloon. That meant it was a perfect place for Clint to stand and wait for Coltraine to arrive.

  Maddie had given him a description of Coltraine before he’d left, but Clint just had to keep his fingers crossed that it would be enough to pick the man out when he arrived. At the very least, he guessed he should at least be able to spot the Indian he traveled with or the women that were his prisoners.

  Clint barely had a chance to get comfortable leaning against the darkened doorway when he heard soft footsteps creeping up behind him. As soon as he began to turn and have a look, Clint was stopped by the metallic click of a pistol’s hammer being cocked back.

  “Don’t move another muscle, asshole,” a voice behind him hissed, “or you’ll get your first shot in the balls before I burn you down.”

  NINETEEN

  “That’s no way for a lady to talk,” Clint said as he raised his hands and turned around.

  The voice that he’d heard was a cross between a whisper and a snarl. It cut through the air like an arrow. The face that went along with it was a whole lot prettier, even if it was twisted into a serious frown.

  “What made you think I was a lady?” she asked.

  “Because women will be the first ones to threaten to shoot a man in that particular spot.”

  “Like you’re all such a bunch of gent
lemen?”

  “Not hardly. We just don’t like to think about something like that.”

  Clint kept his hands up, but was prepared to pluck his modified Colt from its holster at any moment. Although the woman’s gun was still pointed at him, he didn’t think he would have to return the favor. In fact, he kept his hands high and unmoving just to stay on her good side.

  The woman stepped forward slowly and stopped well outside of arm’s reach. The gun in her hand was a newer model, small enough for her to manage and still plenty big enough to be a threat. What struck Clint even more was the fact that she handled that gun as if she’d had plenty of practice.

  “What are you doing hiding in the shadows?” Clint asked.

  “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

  “Is there a law against a man wanting some peace and quiet to go along with his fresh air?”

  “No, but there is a law against kidnapping innocent women.”

  Clint squinted into the darkness to get a better look at her. His eyes had become adjusted to the night, but the woman was still shrouded in shadows so thick that they almost completely eclipsed her. “If I wanted to make a move for my gun, I could do it whether you’re here or one step closer.”

  “And either way, you’d be just as dead.”

  “Exactly.”

  Reluctantly, the woman stepped forward just enough for some of the pale light from outside to fall over her. She had a trim body and appeared to be in her late twenties. Her blond hair was slightly tousled, but still framed her face nicely. Although her eyes were narrowed suspiciously, it would have been impossible to hide their beauty.

  “Are you going to shoot me or should we start this off on a more friendly note?” Clint asked.

  “I haven’t decided yet. What were you doing a few minutes ago?”

  “You mean at the cathouse?”

  “That’s right,” she said with a curt nod.

  “Something tells me you already know the answer to that.”

  The blonde was quiet as she studied Clint even more. Her eyes moved up and down over him, lingering slightly over the gun at his side. “Take out that gun and toss it to me.”

  Clint’s hand slowly lowered and stopped when he saw her arm tense and her grip tighten around her pistol.

  “Two fingers only,” she warned.

  Using his thumb and forefinger, Clint lifted the Colt from its holster and tossed it forward. The gun landed with a thump in the straw at her feet. Rather than bend down to pick it up, she placed her foot on top of it and kept her aim fixed upon Clint’s chest.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “My name’s Clint Adams. What about you?”

  “Rachel Dovetree. Does that sound familiar?”

  Clint shook his head, which only caused the blonde to scowl and straighten her gun arm as if she were getting ready to fire.

  “I guess men like you wouldn’t even care to know the names of the women you steal. Probably makes it easier to cart them around and sell them off like so much god-damned property.”

  “What do you know about that?”

  “I know plenty,” Rachel snapped. “Just like I know that you’ve been trying to meet up with that son of a bitch Coltraine since the moment you got here.”

  “I’ve been looking for Coltraine. Tracking him down, not joining up with him if that’s what you think.”

  “I think Coltraine deserves to die, but I’ll settle for one of his friends to hold me over until I can get to him.”

  Clint caught sight of someone running to the saloon and quickly recognized the woman from the cathouse he’d paid to alert him about Coltraine’s whereabouts. Rachel’s eyes glanced away as well, but she was looking at something else outside of the stable.

  “Looks like some of your other friends are here, too, Clint Adams,” she said smugly. “I might be able to drop more of you tonight than I bargained on.”

  Suddenly, Clint realized tossing his gun away was less of an act of good faith and more of a stupid, possibly fatal, mistake.

  TWENTY

  “Don’t say a damn thing to your friends out there,” Rachel said, “and I might just let you walk out of this.”

  “They’re not my friends,” Clint insisted. “I came to track them down just like you.”

  “Bullshit. Just keep your mouth shut.”

  “Take me hostage,” Clint offered.

  “What?”

  “We’ve got to do something before they get away. I don’t know how long they’ll stay here. Do you?”

  Rachel was quiet as she nervously glanced back and forth between Clint and the outside. When he looked in the same direction that she did, Clint could finally see a pair of men walking from the cathouse to one of the smaller buildings that were away from the busier half of the fort.

  “Whatever they’re doing here, I doubt they’ll stay long,” Clint said. “You can either let me have my gun and we can do this together, or you can take me hostage if you think I’m one of them. Either way, you need to decide right now!”

  “Dammit,” Rachel said under her breath.

  Clint looked back to where she was staring and saw the two men had stopped short of one of the buildings. They were now talking to another pair of men and pointing toward the cathouse. The first pair continued into the smaller building while the second pair began walking briskly toward the cathouse.

  When Clint turned around again, Rachel was directly beside him. The next thing he felt was the barrel of her pistol jabbing him in the ribs.

  “You say or do one thing I don’t like and I pull this trigger,” she said. “Now tell me who the hell you really are.”

  “I told you already.”

  “I’ve followed you since Silver City and I know damn well you’ve been making the same stops as Coltraine.”

  “I’m tracking him.”

  “Then how do you know exactly where to go?”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice,” Clint explained. “Besides, Coltraine takes his victims from places like Silver City and the other women who work there are fed up with seeing it happen. They’ve been the ones that have helped me the most. Surely you must know something about that.”

  “Are you calling me a whore?”

  “Jesus Christ,” Clint growled. “If you’re looking for an excuse to shoot, just do it already. You obviously have a stake in this or you wouldn’t be here right now. I want to work with you, so either let me help or let me do what I came to do.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because, unless you’re very good with that gun, you’re going to need my help when those two Indians get here.”

  Rachel looked away from Clint and saw that the second pair of men had already left the cathouse and were approaching the saloon. The woman who’d been there to try and find Clint was on her way out and the two men stepped right up to her so they could grab her by the arms. The men were Indians, all right. Their long, straight, black hair hung down past their shoulders and the pale moonlight was just bright enough for their dark complexions to be seen.

  As Clint watched the Indians shove the woman around, he felt his hands ball into fists and the muscles in his jaw tighten. He couldn’t hear what they were saying to her, but he had a feeling it wasn’t good. Those feelings were confirmed when the woman finally broke down and started pointing to the saloon and explaining something in a quick rush of words.

  “She was supposed to get me at the saloon when Coltraine arrived,” Clint explained. “My guess is that’s exactly what she’s telling them right now.”

  “So you were here to meet Coltraine,” Rachel stated.

  “If I was, I’d be in that saloon where I told that woman I’d be instead of out here watching it the same way you were watching me.”

  Rachel thought that over as her eyes shifted from Clint to the two Indians outside the saloon. The longer she watched, the rougher those Indians got with the woman. By now, that woman’s cries were getting loud enough to b
e heard in the abandoned stables.

  “Those two are getting impatient out there,” Clint said. “If you don’t want to work with me, that’s fine. But I’m not going to stand by here while that poor woman is pushed around on my account. If you want to stop me, you’ll just have to shoot me in the back.”

  Without waiting for a response, Clint turned his back on Rachel and stepped out of the livery. He stopped and waved his arms over his head. “Hey there!” he shouted. “You two! I think I’m the one you’re after!”

  The Indians looked at him quickly and then looked back to the woman. She glanced at Clint and then started nodding and pointing to the saloon and the cathouse as if retracing her and Clint’s steps. The Indians seemed to believe her because they pushed her aside hard enough to knock her down and walked toward the stables.

  Clint’s hand dropped reflexively to the holster at his side, only to find it empty. He kept his hand in place on top of the holster to cover it so at least the Indians couldn’t tell he was unarmed.

  As the Indians walked closer, the moonlight allowed Clint to see more details about their appearance. Both of them had large knives hanging from their belts. One had a pistol at his side while another had a rifle strapped to his back. They wore regular buttoned shirts that hung open to reveal muscled chests, but their pants were more traditional animal hide leggings.

  As they got closer, both Indians placed their hands over a weapon in preparation for a fight.

  “What is your business with us?” the taller of the two Indians asked.

  “I’ve got some women to trade,” Clint replied. “Let me talk to Coltraine.”

  Suddenly, Rachel exploded from the stable with her gun at the ready. “I knew it!” she shouted.

  Clint reacted as quickly as he could to make sure the situation didn’t go from bad to worse. Then again, it was hard to imagine how the situation could get any worse.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Clint’s first impulse was to twist on the balls of his feet and grab the gun from Rachel’s hand. She was so focused on the two Indians that she barely even saw Clint coming and didn’t even notice her gun was gone until a full second later.