by JR Roberts
The tracks he was following stretched out into a pattern left behind by a horse at a full gallop. Since they were headed in a straight line for the moment, Clint decided it was time to cover some serious ground. Before saddling up, however, he took a bandanna from his saddlebag and approached Sven.
“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Sven said as Clint approached him with the bandanna.
Twisting the bandanna into a thick length of cotton, Clint replied, “I beg to differ.”
“I’ll keep quiet.”
“That’s right. You will.”
Chapter Four
The trail took some irregular turns that would have presented a problem for anyone trying to follow it. Even Clint might have lost it throughout the day, if not for the trouble Eclipse continued to give whoever was leading him away. Every so often, the Darley Arabian would put up a fight or create some other kind of fuss that left behind plenty of scuff marks, gouges and chipped rocks for Clint to discover. When he would find one of those signs, he couldn’t help but grin.
“That’s a good boy,” Clint said under his breath. “Not much longer now.”
The further along he went, the more Clint became convinced that Sven had truly been riding with Victor Howlett. If it was another horse thief trading in on a known name, the man was doing a hell of a job of living up to Howlett’s reputation. Anyone who could keep hold of Eclipse when the stallion wanted to get away was definitely someone who knew their way around a horse.
After bringing his small group to a stop on a small rise, Clint took a pair of field glasses from his saddlebag and studied the terrain ahead. Behind him, he could hear the sound of horses shifting on their hooves along with an insistent, muffled grunting. Clint was about to tell Sven to keep quiet but then reminded himself how long it had been since he’d allowed the captured thief to stretch his legs.
As soon as the bandanna was pulled down, Sven let out a relieved sigh. “Any chance I can take a piss?” was the first thing he needed to say.
Clint pulled him down from the horse’s back and shoved him toward some bushes. As Sven relieved himself, Clint asked, “How many others were riding with you?”
“Just us three and Howlett. But Victor liked to ride alone mostly. Is that Parker up ahead?”
“Who?”
“Not who. What! Parker’s the name of a town. Little place with three saloons and a run-down cathouse. The lady at that cathouse serves some damn fine grub, though.”
Squinting at the town in the distance, Clint did some quick figuring. He knew most of West Texas like the back of his hand. He’d heard mention of a town named Parker in these parts, but hadn’t made it out there, until now. From what he’d heard of the place, Parker was a little mud hole of a town that appealed to vermin like Sven and any other horse thieves who might ride with him.
“Would Howlett want to meet up with Andy Berelli in a town like that?” Clint asked.
“Bennelli,” Sven corrected. “And it makes sense for him to bring a stolen animal there.”
“You don’t know for certain?”
“I already told you. Howlett kept to himself about damn near everything. I’ve made a few deals there myself but not with Bennelli.”
Clint didn’t trust Sven any farther than he could toss him. He made it a habit not to trust anyone who was angling for a way to escape, kill him or both. Still, the tracks he’d been following led straight to that town and at the very least, there might be someone in Parker who either knew Howlett or had spotted Eclipse. Darley Arabians weren’t exactly a common sight in any part of the country.
“You know a good place in Parker to stop for the night?” Clint asked.
Despite being carried like so much baggage, Sven looked genuinely pleased to be asked that question. “Why yes!” he said. “There’s a great hotel on the east side of town with fair rates and soft beds.”
“Great to hear it.” With that, Clint steered his procession to some more promising places on the opposite end of Parker.
Chapter Five
Jarred Hall had been in Parker for only a few hours and he was already feeling restless. There were plenty of sights and sounds to capture a man’s attention in a place catering to the likes of horse thieves, stagecoach robbers or anyone else who’d ever pointed a gun at another man within the great state of Texas. But Hall wasn’t paying any mind to those things when he made his way up and down one street after another.
To every smile from a working girl, he gave only a halfhearted nod.
To every threatening glare he got from an armed man, Hall responded with a stare that could send a wildcat scampering back to its den.
While most of the people he saw didn’t know Hall from any other soul wandering in from the Texas plains, he knew most of them. Knowing them was how he made his living, just as being unknown to them was how he stayed alive. Navigating such treacherous waters was an art. It was a subtle mixture of knowing when to stare someone in the eyes and for precisely the right length of time before looking away. It was knowing when to keep his head down completely and allow the scarf around his neck and the brim of his hat to hide him away.
Jarred Hall’s face was rougher than the road leading through that outlaw town on the Texas and New Mexico border. His nose was broken in two places. His hair grew irregularly after being shorn close to his scalp by a razor that was badly in need of sharpening. Scars cut through the flesh of his neck and chin, telling gruesome tales of encounters with the reaper himself. In a more civilized town, such markings may have been distinctive. In Parker, they labeled Jarred Hall as someone who’d earned his place on those streets. He was a man to be feared.
In any town, that was the case.
As he made his way through Parker’s entertainment district, Hall kept his hand resting upon the grip of the Remington holstered at his side. The familiar weight of a .38 caliber pistol was under his right arm but he knew better than to take comfort from such things. Nearly every man in town was armed. Any of them who weren’t heeled wouldn’t be alive long enough to be a problem anyhow.
As Hall passed each person on or near that street, he may not have looked at each of them directly but he saw every one. His steps were methodical and sure, cutting a path through town like a surgeon’s blade through infected flesh. There was a cathouse to his left and another a little further up the street on his right. He could smell at least one opium den and heard the warbling singing of a drunk showgirl from a distant saloon. It was early evening which meant the town was just stretching its tattered wings.
Spotting one man riding a sleek horse, Hall angled his head so most of his face was covered. When he saw the man was leading another horse by its reins, he positioned himself on the boardwalk outside one of the cathouses and waited for the rider to pass.
“Why don’t you come in?” a stout redhead asked from behind him. She smelled of whiskey and the last three men she’d taken into her bed.
“Maybe later,” Hall replied.
The rider passed. He was keeping his head down as well, making it difficult for Hall to get a straight look at him until the last moment before the dark horse carried him away. When he finally did get the glimpse he’d been after, it didn’t show him the sight he wanted. Hall cussed under his breath which was followed by the touch of a soft hand upon his shoulder.
“My offer still stands,” the redhead told him.
Hall turned around to find the soiled dove right where he’d left her. She wore her hair in a loose braid that matched the rumpled clothes she wore. Her curves were ample and smooth and her smile came easy.
“Come on inside,” she said with a wink. “Cassandra will make you feel all better.”
At first, Hall intended on turning her down in a way that would leave no room for a third attempt to get him inside. After looking past her to the plush interior of the brothel, he let out a tired breath and said, “I suppose I could go for a drink.”
“First one’s on me.” Cassandra hooked her arm around Hall�
��s. “Once we get you off your feet, I’ll see what I can do to keep you there.”
Hall tightened his right arm around hers, bringing the redhead in close enough to feel the touch of her hip against him. She leaned her head on his shoulder and fell into step beside him as if she’d spent the whole month waiting on that porch for him to arrive. “You got anything special in mind?” She asked as she escorted him through the front door. “Something to drink or … something else?”
Hall stepped inside and looked around. The foyer was done up pretty nice, complete with burgundy rugs and a small bar serving drinks to men who sat at the little round tables scattered throughout the space. One of those men sat nursing a beer with his hat slid down toward the front of his head and one leg crossed casually over the other. When he felt a tug on his arm, Hall allowed himself to be escorted toward the bar. Along the way, he passed the man with the beer without saying a word.
“What kind of whiskey do you serve here?” he asked.
Cassandra smiled and leaned against the bar. “Anything you like, hon.”
“I’ll take something from the top shelf. Not the most expensive but one or two notches down from there.”
“First one’s on the house,” she reminded him.
“I know.”
The redhead shrugged and waved to the burly man tending bar. As she ordered drinks for them both, Hall turned back around to get a look at the man with the beer. The only thing left at that table was a ring of water where his mug had been.
Hall didn’t even get a chance to curse under his breath before he heard the creak of a floorboard directly beside him. Letting out a sigh, he faced the bar once again and found the man with the beer standing beside him.
“Should’ve let that redhead take you upstairs,” he said while placing his hand upon the gun at his side. “I hear she’s pretty good at what she does. Better than getting shot dead in a cathouse, that’s for certain.”
Chapter Six
Hall was certain the man next to him could make good on his threat before anyone had a chance to do a damn thing about it. Rather than panic about it, however, he merely smiled and said, “If anyone would know about the talents of any given woman in any given town, it’s Clint Adams.”
Although he still had his hand on his Colt, Clint merely rested it there as he leaned against the bar. “I thought we got things settled between us the last time we crossed paths in Carson City? You don’t follow me and I don’t fill you full of lead.”
“No need for the tough talk, Adams,” Hall said. “I know you’re not a killer.”
“Then you should also remember that I don’t make empty threats. Why were you following me, Jarred?”
“I wasn’t sure it was you at first. Once I got a good look at your face . . .”
Cassandra sidled up to Hall and pressed against him as she leaned forward to place a glass on the bar. “Here’s your whiskey,” she said. “Who’s your friend?”
Before Hall could answer that question, Clint said, “His friend is on his way out.”
She smiled warmly when Clint tipped his hat to her and watched him carefully as he walked away from the bar and left through the front door. “I like the looks of that one,” Cassandra said.
“You wouldn’t be the first,” Hall grunted.
“Then why don’t you change my mind?” she purred. “I had my sights set on you first, you know.”
After tossing back his drink, Hall said, “I know and I’m honored.” He then turned toward her and asked, “What do you know about him?”
“Not much.”
“Don’t give me that,” Hall snapped. “You watch everyone and everything in this place. Tell me what you know about that man. You can start with when he first stepped foot through that door.”
“I don’t like being talked to that way.” When she tried to move away, Cassandra was stopped by a strong hand that clamped around her wrist. “You’re hurting me.”
Those three words caught the attention of a lean young man who stood in the corner of the room like a ghost. He immediately approached the bar, clenching fists that were covered in an array of cuts and scars he’d acquired in countless unpleasant encounters with unruly patrons.
Hall eased up on his grip but didn’t let her go. “Tell me what I want to know,” he said.
“Or what?”
“Or you won’t get the money that’s in my shirt pocket.” After saying that, Hall relaxed his hold on Cassandra all the way.
Pulling her hand back, she looked at Hall and then cast a quick glance at the younger man with the fists resembling ground beef. Cassandra reached into Hall’s shirt pocket, found a small wad of bills and took them out. Liking what she saw, she nodded to the younger man and tucked the money between her ample breasts. “I don’t know that friend of yours,” she said. “First time I saw him was less than an hour before you showed up.”
“Did you approach him?”
“No. I was busy.”
“What about one of the other girls?” Hall asked.
“I can ask around if you like?”
“Do that. I’ll come back around a bit later to see what you find out.”
“Is that all you’ll be back for?” Cassandra asked.
Hall answered that by taking her hips in his hands, pulling her close and planting a kiss on Cassandra’s lips. She was hesitant to respond at first but quickly melted against him and slipped her tongue into his mouth. When he was through, Hall nearly had to pry her off of him so he could step away from the bar.
“Don’t worry, young fella,” Hall said as he passed the man with the battered fists. “You’ll get another chance at me soon.”
The young man was anxious to add a few fresh cuts to his fists by thumping them against Hall’s face, but was held in check by the redhead, who was still reeling from her kiss.
As soon as Hall stepped outside, he took a careful look around. He didn’t find a trace of Clint which came as no surprise. Adams wasn’t sloppy and following hot on his heels when he’d left the cathouse would have only sparked a fight that wouldn’t have been in Hall’s favor. Avoiding those kinds of scuffles was one of the things that had kept Hall alive this long in the first place and he wasn’t about to break from that now.
He’d found Clint before and he could do it again. When they crossed paths next time, neither of them would have the element of surprise on their side.
Chapter Seven
Half an hour earlier . . .
It was getting close to midnight and Clint had scouted a good portion of the town and was satisfied nobody was shadowing his every move. Most towns would be quiet or even sleeping by now but a place like Parker only got rowdier as the darkness got thicker and the shadows grew deeper. After finding a place to hang his hat for the night and getting a feel for the lay of the land, Clint’s priority was to keep looking for Eclipse.
There were plenty of stables in town. The one that Clint had chosen to put his horses up for the night didn’t have any animals for sale, but pointed him toward some that he might try. When Clint made it known that he didn’t much care where the horses came from, a few more options had opened up. It was then that he’d asked about Andy Bennelli.
“Name don’t sound familiar,” the stableman had said. Clint only had to produce a small amount of cash from his pocket to change the filthy man’s attitude. “Now I recall,” he said while snatching the money from Clint’s hand. “Bennelli buys and sells horses. Mostly horses that were taken from someone else.”
“You mean stolen,” Clint corrected.
The stableman shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”
“Where can I find Bennelli?”
“Why you looking for him?”
Nodding toward the stalls he’d rented, Clint said, “I’m looking to unload those three.”
“They stolen?”
“I thought it didn’t make any difference to you.”
“I guess it don’t.”
A tense silence filled the
stable as Clint felt the other man’s eyes bore through him. Finally, he said, “Look, if I was the law I wouldn’t need to do all this tiptoeing. I could have just arrested you and been done with it.”
“True. You could have also walked in here like you did and tossed some money at me.”
“I don’t have all day for this,” Clint said. “If you don’t want to help, hand the money back to me and I’ll ask someone else.”
“I do wanna help,” the stableman insisted. “But I also don’t wanna land in jail. You gotta prove yourself if you want my help.”
Clint’s first instinct was to tell the stableman what he could do with whatever bit of proof he wanted and find his information somewhere else. As attractive as that was, however, time was a factor. He was certain Eclipse was somewhere in Parker but there was no telling for how long. A horse like that would fetch a fine price and wouldn’t last long in a bidding war. Also, there was always the possibility that the Darley Arabian was putting up enough of a struggle for the thief to cut his losses and … well … Clint didn’t want to think about that.
“Whatever you got in mind,” Clint said, “it had best be something that can be done quickly.”
“Oh, it is. There’s a whore working at a place down the street that robbed me blind.”
“Why do I get the suspicion that you had it coming?”
“That don’t matter,” the stableman said through a dirty sneer. “What does matter is that she took what was in my pockets while I was passed out and didn’t even touch my pecker.”
“Sounds like a good night for her.”
“Well not for me! Her name is Liza. She’s a sweet little piece with blue eyes and a pug nose. She’ll deny anything about me, so you’ll need to get into her room and force her to show you where she keeps her stash.”
