Bitterroot Valley

by J. R. Roberts

  He took off his boots and sat on his hard bunk. He had a book on the table next to the bed, Mark Twain. It had been Clint Adams who’d introduced him to Twain’s writings.

  Whatever was going to happen, he hoped he wouldn’t have to choose between Clint Adams and Granville Stewart.

  THIRTY

  California Ed and Brocky Gallagher stayed in the doorway across from the hotel all night.

  “This is what you meant about thinkin’ for ourselves?” Gallagher asked. “Sleepin’ standin’ up?”

  “I ain’t about to go back to camp without the information Jack wants, are you?”

  “Well, no.”

  “There,” Ed said. “They’re comin’ out.”

  Across the street Clint and Evie came out of the hotel and turned right.

  “That him?” Ed asked. “That the guy on the stage?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Okay,” Ed said, “let’s go.”

  “Back to camp?”

  “After we talk to the desk clerk.”

  Clint had breakfast with Evie, same place they’d had it the first time, across from the stage office.

  “I told my editor about you,” she said.

  “All about me?” he asked with a grin.

  “No,” she said, “only the parts he needed to know.”

  “And what parts were they?”

  “Just that you were in Helena, and you’re here.”

  “And he wants you to interview me, right?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said. “What newspaper wouldn’t want an interview with Clint Adams?”

  “I’m not here to be interviewed.”

  “I know that. You’re here to help your friend, the sheriff.”

  “That’s right. Why don’t you write about Nat Piven. He’s a good lawman.”

  “I know it,” she said. “I’ve written about Nat quite a few times.”

  “What about the rustlers? Have you written about them?”

  “My editor’s done a couple of editorials about rustling, but it’s hard to write about somebody you don’t know.”

  “Who’s your editor?”

  “Why? You think you’ll recognize his name?”

  “Probably not.”

  “It’s Lonny, Lonny Beckham.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Like a father to me.”

  “Anybody else work at the paper?”

  “Nope, just him and me. He also runs the press.”

  “No boyfriends in town?”

  “No,” she said, “don’t worry. You won’t have to fight anybody for me.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  At that point the door opened and Nat Piven came in.

  “There’s the sheriff,” she said, turning her head. “Do you want to invite him to join us? It’s all right with me.”

  “Sure, why not?” Clint waved to Piven and the man came over.

  “Join us for breakfast, Nat?”

  “Sure.”

  He sat and the waitress came over and took his order, poured him some coffee.

  “Are you getting’ anythin’ out of him, Evie?” Piven asked.

  “Not much,” she said. “He won’t give me an interview. He’s gonna get me in trouble with Lonny. He’s gonna get me fired. You tell him, Nat.”

  “Lonny’s got no paper without you, Evie, you know that.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t have to tell him that,” she said. She took her napkin from her lap and put it on the table. “I have to get to work. You can keep Clint company while he finishes his breakfast.” She took the last piece of bacon from her ate and put it on Clint’s, next to his steak. “I’ll see you both later.”

  They both watched her go out the door, and then the waitress appeared with Piven’s ham and eggs and he dug in.

  THIRTY-ONE

  California Ed and Brocky Gallagher had waited until Clint and Evie were out of sight then crossed over to the hotel.

  They crossed the floor to the desk and the clerk looked startled when he saw them.

  “Yes?”

  “The man who just left,” Ed said. “The one with the woman.”

  “What about him?”

  “Was that Clint Adams?”

  “I’m not supposed to give information—”

  Gallagher touched his gun and asked, “Are we gonna go through this again?”

  “N-No,” the clerk said. “I—I’ll tell you. That was Clint Adams who just left.”

  “Okay,” Ed said, turning to face Gallagher. “Now we go back to camp.”

  “You’re not in love with her, are you, Nat?” Clint asked.

  “Sure,” Piven said, “and so is every other man in town. She’s also kind of our little sister, so you be careful with her, Clint.”

  “What’s on your agenda for today?” Clint asked.

  “Me? I thought I’d go and talk to Stewart.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe find out what he’s plannin’.”

  “What about the other ranchers?”

  “I already talked to three whose spreads got hit,” he said. “They don’t know nothin’, didn’t see nothin’.”

  “They lose any men?”

  “No,” Piven said. “A couple got hurt, but nobody got killed.”

  “I wonder if the rustlers are being careful not to kill anyone,” Clint said, “or if they just haven’t yet.”

  “My money’s on ‘haven’t yet,’” Piven said. “Sooner or later, they’ll have to.”

  “When that happens, maybe you can bring in some federal help.”

  “Maybe. For now I’ll just ride out to see Stewart today, see what he has to say. You wanna come with me?”

  “Actually, no. I’ll wait until you go out and ride the river, then I’ll go with you.”

  “Okay.”

  Clint picked up Evie’s piece of bacon and ate it.

  When they left the café, a man was riding into town.

  “I know that man,” Clint said.

  “Do you? That’s Jim Doubt.”

  “Sure, I knew him in the Dakotas. He was a lawman. Oh, about ten or twelve years ago.”

  “Well, these days,” Piven said, “he’s Granville Stewart’s foreman.”

  “Well,” Clint said, “what do you know about that?”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Clint stepped into the street as Jim Doubt rode up even with him.

  Doubt, for his part, had been wondering how to find Clint Adams, when suddenly he appeared in the street. And he had a smile on his face.

  “Jim Doubt, as I live and breathe.”

  “Clint Adams,” Doubt said. “Jesus.” He dismounted and the two men shook hands. “How long’s it been?”

  “Ten, twelve years,” Clint said. “I hear you got yourself a good job. Smart man to stop wearing a badge.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Sheriff Piven said.

  “Hey, Sheriff,” Doubt said. “He didn’t mean nothin’ by that. He’s just the kinda guy doesn’t like to wear a badge himself.”

  “What about you?” Clint asked. “You did give it up, right?”

  “When somethin’ better came along, yeah.”

  “Granville Stewart.”

  “That’s right,” Doubt said. “He’s a good man. And a good boss.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Clint said. “Where were you headed, Jim?”

  “Just came to town to get a drink,” Doubt said. “Wanna join me?”

  “This early? I just had breakfast.”

  “That’s okay,” Doubt said. “Honey’s opens early every day.”

  “Okay, then why not?” Clint turned to Piven. “Nat?”

  “I got rounds,” Piven said, “but if you’re still there later, sure.”

  “Okay, then,” Clint said. “Let’s walk over.”

  Ed and Brocky Gallagher went to the livery, where they’d left their mounts. They saddled up, and rode out of town to return to Stringer Jack’s camp.

  Doubt tied his horse
off outside Honey’s Saloon. They went inside. It was early, and while there were customers in the place, it was too early for it to be busy. They had their pick of places at the bar.

  “Beer?” Doubt asked Clint. “I’ll buy the first round.”

  “Okay.”

  “Two beers,” Doubt said to one of the bartenders.

  “Comin’ up.”

  When they each had a cold mug in their hands, Doubt said, “So what brings you to Judith Gap?”

  “I’m sure your boss probably told you,” Clint said.

  “He hardly tells me anythin’,” Doubt that. “At least, nothin’ I don’t need to know. He came back from Helena and told me I could have some time to come to town and have a drink.”

  “He didn’t tell you to come into town and see what was on my mind?” Clint asked.

  “What? No, I told you. I just came into town for a beer.” Doubt held his mug up. “And I ran into an old friend.”

  “Well then,” Clint said, “fill me in on twelve years.”

  “That’s gonna be boring,” Doubt said. “And I don’t need to be filled in about you.”

  “All you’ve probably heard is my reputation,” Clint said.

  “And if half of it is true . . .” Doubt said.

  “Less than that probably.”

  “That’s still pretty impressive,” Doubt said. “In fact, you’re rep was impressive back then. So were you. It seems like it’s just continued to grow.”

  “What about you?” Clint asked. “Are you happy being a ranch foreman?”

  “Sure,” Doubt said. “I report only to Stewart, and I get paid a good salary. Yeah, I guess I’m pretty happy where I am.”

  “How do you feel about the rustlers?”

  “They haven’t touched any of our stock yet.”

  “Will your boss wait until they do before he takes action?”

  “Like I said, Clint,” Doubt replied, “I don’t know what he’s thinkin’ until he tells me.”

  “Well, what would you do?”

  “Since they hit the spreads all around us,” Doubt said, “I’d take my men and go huntin’ for them.”

  “So why didn’t you?” Clint asked. “I mean, while your boss was in Helena.”

  “I had orders not to make a move unless they actually hit our stock.”

  “How do your men feel?”

  “They’ll go along with whatever Stewart wants. You think I’m the only one happy with my job? He pays his men twice what the other spreads pay theirs.”

  “So they’ll do whatever he wants them to do?”

  “That’s right.”

  Clint sipped his beer, looked at a couple of the girls who came to the bar for drinks. Honey’s sure had its own rules, opening early and having girls work the floor while some people were still having breakfast elsewhere.

  “I was in Helena when he went to the Cattleman’s Club.”

  “That so? Did you hear the meetin’?”

  Clint nodded. “It wasn’t much of a meeting,” he said. “He pretty much told the others they were idiots, and they were on their own.”

  “That sounds like my boss.”

  “They’re comin’ back, boss,” Red Mike said.

  “I see ’em,” Stringer Jack said.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee, then stepped forward to meet his men.

  As they dismounted, he said, “I didn’t expect you to be gone all night.”

  “We wanted to make sure we came back with the information you wanted, boss,” California Ed said.

  “And did you?”

  “Yeah, we did,” Ed said. “Brocky says the man from the stagecoach is Clint Adams, all right.”

  “Okay,” Stringer Jack said. “So now we know we may have to deal with the Gunsmith.”

  “And that’s bad?” Ed asked. “Ain’t it?”

  “We’ll have to wait and see.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Clint and Doubt eventually moved to a table and started to allow the saloon girls to bring them their drinks. Doubt was very happy with the attention, and had either one girl or the other on his lap the whole time.

  The batwings opened and the sheriff stepped in. He looked around, spotted Clint and Doubt, and waved. He went to the bar, got himself a beer, and joined them.

  “Hey, Katy,” he said to the blonde on Doubt’s lap.

  “Hello, Sheriff.”

  “Do me a favor, will you? Go serve somebody a drink.”

  “Sure.” She kissed Doubt on the cheek and left.

  “I hope you had a good reason for that,” the foreman said to the lawman.

  “What’s going on, Nat?” Clint asked.

  “I just came from your hotel.”

  “And?”

  “The clerk was kind of worked up,” he said. “Two men threatened him, and asked questions about you.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “Well, apparently they watched you leave this morning, then went in and asked the clerk if you were . . . well, you.”

  “They’re trying to identify me,” Clint said. “I thought I was being watched, but I didn’t pay it much attention. I’ll bet the rustlers sent the one who got away into town to identify me.”

  “So what?” Doubt asked. “Now they know they have to deal with the Gunsmith.”

  “That might not have the effect you think,” Piven said.

  “Whataya mean?” Doubt asked.

  “Knowing that the Gunsmith is in the area might urge them into action,” Clint said. “That’s what he means. They may take it as a challenge.”

  “Maybe,” Piven said, “the rustlers will move and we’ll get a look at them.”

  “You still going to see Granville Stewart today?” Clint asked.

  “I think maybe you and me should ride out to the river,” Piven said. “Maybe we’ll be able to see somethin’ stirrin’ out there.”

  “Like rustlers?” Doubt asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “You mind if I tag along?”

  “You don’t think your boss will mind you riding along?” Clint asked.

  “Hell,” Doubt said, “he told me to take some time off. How about I don’t even tell him?”

  “We’ll probably be back late. You’re going to spend the night in town?” Clint asked.

  “Maybe I’ll sleep on some hay in the livery,” Doubt said.

  “Or you can have the floor in my room.”

  “Sure, why not? I got a bedroll on my saddle.” He looked at Piven. “Sheriff?”

  “Why not?” Piven said. “The more the merrier. You can handle a gun, can’t you?”

  Doubt looked at Clint and smiled.

  “He could twelve years ago,” Clint said.

  “Even better now,” Doubt said.

  “Good.” Piven finished his beer. “Why don’t we meet in front of the livery in an hour?”

  “I’ll be there,” Doubt said. “Be nice to get out in the open without having to ride ramrod over some lazy bastards. And the cows, and horses, too.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Clint left the saloon, squinting at the sunlight. Usually when he came out of a saloon, it wasn’t quite so bright. It felt odd for it to still be so early in the day.

  He knew the general direction of the newspaper office, so he headed that way. Within a few blocks he came to it. He stopped and looked in the window. An older man was working at the press, while Evie was seated in an inner office at a desk, probably working on a story.

  He opened the door and walked in.

  “Help you?” the man asked.

  Clint assumed this was Lonny Beckham.

  “I’m looking for Evie.”

  “You Adams?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You come to give my girl an interview?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t do interviews.”

  “Seems I mighta seen an interview a time or two over the years.”

  “The
n maybe I should say I don’t do them anymore.”

  “Well, go ahead and talk to Evie, then,” Beckham said. “But don’t keep her too long. She’s got work to do.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Clint went to the door of the office and knocked. Evie turned, smiled, and waved him in.

  “Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?” she said as he entered.

  “I wanted to see where you worked.”

  “Well, this is it,” she said, spreading her arms. “Where I do all my writing.”

  “What are you working on now?” he asked.

  “I’ll never tell,” she said. “You’ll have to wait to read it.”

  “So what really brings you over here?”

  He turned and looked at Lonny, who was still working on the press.

  “I wanted to tell you that I’ll have somebody in my room tonight.”

  “You found another girl already?”

  “There are other girls in town?” he asked.

  “Like you haven’t been to Honey’s and seen all those beautiful saloon girls,” she said.

  “Oh, them,” he said. “Well, it’s none of them. It’s an old friend of mine, Jim Doubt.”

  “Doubt? Granville Stewart’s foreman?”

  “Turns out I knew him about twelve years ago,” Clint said. “We had a drink to catch up and he was around when the sheriff said he wanted to go out and ride along the river later today. So, he’s going to go with us, which means he’ll spend the night in town. On a bedroll on my floor.”

  “Well,” she said, “you could give him your bed and come spend the night at my place.”

  “That’s a thought.”

  He reached for her, but she backed away and wagged her finger at him.

  “Not in front of Lonny,” she warned. “I told you he’s like a father to me. He thinks I’m a virgin.”

  “Well, we don’t want to disappoint him,” he said. “You’ll have to tell me where you live.”

  “I’ll do better than that,” she said. “I’ll show it to you, right after you buy me dinner tonight.”

  “You got a deal,” Clint said. “I’ll come by here and get you later.”