Cutting to the Chase…
“Look,” Clint said, “what was this all about? I’d like to know why I ended up killing men I didn’t know.”
Bodie shoved his chair back.
“We can talk about that later,” he said. “I’ve got somethin’ I’ve got to do.”
He stood up and started away.
“Now, wait a minute,” Clint said, chasing after him. They got outside before Bodie stopped and turned to face him.
“I need to know what’s going on,” Clint said.
“What’s going on is you poked your nose in somebody else’s business,” Bodie said.
“It’s always my business when somebody’s outnumbered,” Clint said.
“Look, I’ve got things to do, Adams,” Bodie said. “I’ll see you later about all this.”
“Yeah, okay,” Clint said. “We’ll talk later. But know this…I’m not leaving town until I know what the hell this is all about.”
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THE THOUSAND-MILE CHASE
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Jove edition / March 2013
Copyright © 2013 by Robert J. Randisi.
Cover illustration by Sergio Giovine.
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ALWAYS LEARNING PEARSON
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
ONE
Clint Adams was attracted by the shots.
Now, many men probably would have heard them and ridden the other way. Sometimes Clint wished he were that kind of man. It would have saved him a lot of trouble over the years.
But since he wasn’t that kind of man, he rode in the direction of the shots. He came to the top of a rise and reined in. Below him was one man, who had taken cover behind a felled tree, being fired upon by six others. Even though he didn’t know who they were—lawmen, outlaws, whatever—it seemed kind of one-sided to him.
With these kinds of odds, he just naturally went with the low man.
The man behind the fallen tree was firing with a rifle, but pretty soon he’d have to go to his pistol, if he had one. Clint could see that the six men firing at him—from behind trees, in dry washes, or just plain flat on their bellies—had rifles and handguns. Farther behind them—just below where Clint was sitting astride Eclipse—were their horses, tied to some bushes.
Clint dismounted, backed Eclipse out of sight, then made his way carefully down the hill to the horses. Quickly, while the firing was still going on, he went through their saddlebags. He found nothing to indicate that they might be lawmen of any kind—sheriff’s deputies, deputy marshals, or even Arizona Rangers.
He wondered if he could get the man out of this predicament without killing anyone.
* * *
Tom Angel wondered who the six men were, and why they were shooting at him. They couldn’t be who he was thinking about, or he was in real trouble. Not that this wasn’t already plenty of trouble. He also wondered who the man behind them was, the one who had come down the hill to their horses
. They didn’t see him, but Tom did.
Angel had been riding along on his way to Tucson when the six men suddenly appeared, riding hell-bent for leather toward him, firing their weapons. His horse went down, and he was forced to take cover behind this fallen tree, which had turned out to be very good cover. The animal got up and ran off, so maybe when this was over—and he was still alive—he’d be able to run it down.
But for now, he was concerned with the keeping alive part…
* * *
Clint untied all the horses and tried to quietly shoo them along. He had some help when, just at that moment, there was a barrage of shots that spooked the animals. They ran off, and Clint took cover behind the bushes.
One of the six men turned, saw what was happening, and shouted, “Hey, the horses!”
“What?” another man said, turning also. “The horses!”
All the men turned.
“Get them!” one of them yelled.
“What about Angel?”
“He’s on foot,” the man said. “We’ll be able to catch up to him again if we aren’t on foot, too. Now come on!”
He was an older man, who must have been the leader. He started running after the horses while some of the younger men outpaced him.
While the men ran after their horses, Clint went back up the hill to Eclipse and mounted up. After making sure the men were still chasing their horses, he rode over to where the man they called Angel was still crouched behind a dead tree.
* * *
Tom Angel watched as the man rode toward him on his horse. Warily he stood up, not knowing who this feller was or what he wanted. What he did know was that the man had helped him. He held his rifle loosely, but ready…
* * *
“Where’s your horse?” Clint asked as he reached the man.
“He went down when they started shooting, but he got up and ran off. Might be lame for all I know.”
Clint looked behind him, then back at the man, reaching his hand out.
“You better hop on before they come back. Let’s see if we can run your horse down.”
“Appreciate it,” the man said.
He grabbed Clint’s arm and leaped up onto Eclipse behind Clint.
“Helluva a horse you got here,” he said.
“Yeah, he’ll carry the two of us until we can find yours. But we better get the hell out of here before your friends get back.”
“No friends of mine,” Angel said.
“That was the impression I got.”
TWO
They put some distance between themselves and the six men and found Angel’s horse, a sorrel, standing and grazing. Clint stopped some distance away so as not to spook the animal and let Angel approach it on foot. He watched as the man spoke to the animal, then patted his neck, finally leaned over to check his legs. He then walked back to where Clint was still sitting astride Eclipse.
“He’s got a skinned knee, but that’s about it,” Angel said. “He should be okay. I’ll have him looked at when we get to town.”
“What town?” Clint asked.
Angel shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”
“Where were you headed?”
“Nowhere in particular.”
“And those six, they just jumped you?”
“Yeah,” Angel said, “came out of nowhere.”
“And you don’t know them.”
“Nope.”
“Or why they attacked you.”
“Nope.”
“You got a price on your head?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What’s your name?” Clint asked. “I heard one of them call you Angel.”
“Tom,” the man said, “Tom Angel.”
Clint shook his head.
“Don’t know the name.”
“And what’s yours?” Angel asked. “Who do I have to thank for saving my bacon back there?”
“Clint Adams.”
Angel froze and stared at Clint.
“You’re kiddin’.”
“No, I’m not.”
“The Gunsmith?”
“That’s right.”
“Why would you stop to help me?”
“I have a habit of sticking my nose in other people’s business,” Clint said.
“Well,” Angel said, “I’m pretty glad you did. Where are you headed?”
“I thought I’d stop in Tucson and see how things are going.”
“Sounds good to me,” Angel said. “Mind if I ride along? Of course, you know if those six catch up to us…”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Clint said. “Tucson’s the closest town, and you need somebody to look at your horse’s leg. Get mounted.”
Angel climbed aboard his horse, walked it around a few feet to test out the leg.
“Seems okay,” Angel said, “but if we have to move fast, I’ll never keep up with that beast of yours.”
“Then let’s hope we won’t have to move fast,” Clint said. “Let’s get along.”
* * *
They arrived in Tucson without encountering the six gunmen again.
“Who did you think they were?” Clint asked as they rode into town. “Lawmen?”
“No reason for lawmen to be after me,” Angel said, “unless it was a mistake.”
“Outlaws, then.”
“Same difference,” Angel said. “Why would a bunch of outlaws be after me? I can’t figure it.”
“Would you have any reason not to want to go to the sheriff here and tell him about it?”
“Nope,” Angel said, “no reason. I thought I’d see to my horse, and then go and do that.”
“Well,” Clint said, “let me know if you need a witness.” He pointed as they passed a saloon called the Ace High. “I’ll be in that saloon after I get a hotel room.”
“I’ll see you there for a drink, no matter what,” Angel said. “I owe you one—at least.”
* * *
They rode to the livery stable together, arranged for the care of their horses, then walked back to the center of town with their saddlebags and rifles.
“I’m heading for a hotel,” Clint said.
“I’m gonna get over to the sheriff’s office, just in case those six jaspers ride into town.”
“Good luck,” Clint said. “Like I said, let me know if you need me to back your story.”
“Thanks for all your help, Clint,” Angel said. “I’ll let you know what happens with Johnny Law.”
Clint gave Angel a salute and the two men went their separate ways.
THREE
Clint went into the Hotel Congress, on Congress Street, and got himself a room. When he checked to make sure there was no easy access to his room by the window, he poured some water from the pitcher on the dresser into the basin, removed his shirt, and cleaned himself up as best he could.
He thought about helping Angel get away from the six men who were—apparently—trying to kill him. Usually, sticking his nose in other people’s business got him into trouble. This time, however, he had managed to do it without being seen. As far as the six men knew, their horses had somehow gotten loose and run off. So maybe this time, things had turned out okay.
He dried himself off and donned a fresh shirt he took from his saddlebags, then left the room to head to the Ace High Saloon. Now that he’d cleaned the trail dust from the outer man, it was time to clean it from the inner man with a big, cold beer.
* * *
While Clint was in the hotel, Tom Angel approached the front door of the sheriff’s office. He was not a man who spent a lot of time in the company of lawmen. While he had told Clint the truth that there was no paper out on him, he was not exactly the most law-abiding citizen. However, this was his first time in Arizona, and he couldn’t see any reason not to talk to the sheriff. If those six men showed up in Tucson, he was going to have to defend himself, and he might as well make the local sheriff aware of the situation.
He went to the door, knocked
, and entered. The man inside was sweeping the floor with a worn broom, looked up as Angel entered. He had the heavily lined face of a man who had seen a lot of life.
“Help you?” he asked.
“You the sheriff?”
“That’s right. Sheriff Hastings. You got the look of a man who just rode into town.”
“You know everybody in town that well, that you know I’m a stranger?” Angel asked.
“Pretty much,” Hastings said. “Besides, you knocked. Nobody in this town knocks.” He set the broom aside, and walked over to his desk. It was then Angel saw the badge on his chest.
“What can I do for you, friend?”
“I had a problem outside of town with some men.”
“Some men?” the sheriff asked. “How many is some?”
“Six.”
“What kind of problem?”
“They tried to kill me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You sure they were tryin’ to kill you?”
“Well, they were shootin’ at me.”
“You know who they were?”
“No idea.”
“Why would they want to kill you?” the lawman asked again.
“Again, no idea.”
The sheriff studied Angel critically.
“Any warrants out on you, friend?”
“No.”
The lawman fell silent again.
“Look,” Angel said, “I’m just tellin’ you what happened. I ain’t askin’ you to go out there and look for them.”
“What are you askin’ me to do, then?”
“Not throw my ass in jail if they come to town and I have to defend myself.”
“Uh-huh,” Hastings said. “Well, I guess I can do that much.”
“Fine.”
Angel turned and walked to the door. The sheriff spoke before he could go out.
“You stayin’ in town?”
“Yep.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know yet,” Angel said. “Got any suggestions?”
Instead of answering, the sheriff asked, “How long you plan on stayin’?”
“I don’t know.”
“You got business here?”
“My horse was injured when those boys tried to kill me. I’m here to get him treated. When he can travel, I’ll leave.”
Thousand Mile Case (9781101619520) Page 1
