Gunsmith #362 : Buffalo Soldiers (9781101554388)

by Roberts, J. R.

  They stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to the other men.

  “We got to go quiet!” he hissed.

  The men all nodded, and then they started down the hall.

  Clint had had many women come to his room, for various reasons. A lot of them came for sex. Women liked him, and he thought it was because he treated them well, made them feel good. He always felt a man and a woman should both come out of their shared time happy and satisfied.

  But there was another reason women came to his room, and it was one that had happened to him just weeks ago. Women had been sent to his room to keep him busy while someone tried to kill him.

  He hadn’t liked the way the men in the saloon had looked at them, especially the bartender. If they had sent these two women up to keep them busy, they’d be sneaking down the hall just about now. Which would explain the creaking noises he’d heard. He’d noticed the stairs creaking when he and Reeves had used them.

  Still on her knees, moaning with her mouth full, Julie slid her hands up the backs of his thighs until she reached his buttocks, then clutched them and pulled him to her as she took his cock all the way down her throat. He hoped she wasn’t setting him up, because she was very good at this and he would have liked very much for her to finish…

  But then he heard the floorboards…

  Bass Reeves lifted the blond girl off him and got to his feet.

  “Get down behind the bed,” he told her. “Or maybe under it.”

  “But what—”

  “Just do it!”

  Her eyes were glassy. Standing there naked, he looked like a statue made of smooth black marble. She reached for him, wanting him in her again, but he pushed her hand away and said, “Get behind the bed and stay down!”

  She did as he said, her eyes beginning to focus again. She didn’t know why he was pushing her down behind the bed, but she could guess.

  He grabbed his gun and stood against the wall, behind the door, held his fingers to his lips. She thought he looked absolutely beautiful like that…

  TWENTY-ONE

  When the door slammed open, Clint did two things: he pushed Julie out of the way, and drew his gun from the holster on the bedpost.

  Four men came pouring into the room led by the desk clerk. They all had guns in their hands, but they all had to look around a moment to locate Clint, while he could plainly see them coming through the door. He started shooting first…

  The door to Bass Reeves’s door slammed open, barely missing him as it slammed into the wall. The girl on the floor screamed and tried her best to get under the bed.

  As the four men came through the door, led by the bartender, Reeves grabbed the door and slammed it back on them. It struck two of the men, causing them to stagger back into the hall.

  The first two looked around the room wildly, trying to locate Reeves. When they saw him, they froze. Naked, holding his gun, he had the look of a gladiator from times gone by. He was a fearsome sight.

  “Big mistake, friend,” he said to the bartender…

  Clint fired, put two bullets in the chest of the desk clerk. The bearded man fell to the floor, causing the man behind him to trip. Clint shot him while he was falling, killing him.

  The trailing two men realized something bad was happening in the room, and tried to reverse course. This wasn’t worth the twenty dollars they were being paid.

  Clint followed them into the hall, still naked, and fired at them as they tried to escape. They fired back, but their shots went wild, and in seconds they were lying on the floor of the hall, dead.

  Doors began to open, and there were still shots, these coming from Bass Reeves’s room…

  The bartender and the second man turned, their eyes wide as they saw Reeves, and they tried to bring their guns to bear. But Bass Reeves had not stated the matter clearly enough. It was not only a bad idea, but a decidedly deadly one.

  “-Wait—” the bartender yelled, but it was too late. Reeves killed him and the second man just as the third and fourth men got the door open again and came running into the room.

  When they saw the naked black man with the gun, they stopped and one of them said, “Whoa!”

  That was way too late. They knew Reeves was going to fire. One man squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t see it coming. The other man tried to bring his gun around. Neither man had chosen the right course of action, and in seconds they were both dead.

  Reeves heard the shots in the hall, and rushed for the door…

  Clint saw Reeves come rushing from his room after the last shot, and now he and the black deputy marshal were standing there, naked, brandishing guns.

  Reeves looked up and down the hall, saw people peering out of their rooms, and shouted, “Back inside!”

  They withdrew their heads and shoulders and slammed their doors.

  “Have you got a girl in your room, Bass?” Clint asked him.

  “Yeah, I do,” Bass Reeves said, “the blond saloon girl.”

  “Yeah, I got the brunette,” Clint said. “I’ll bring her into your room. Let’s find out if they were in on this.”

  “Right.”

  Reeves went back into his room and got Letty out from under the bed. By that time Clint had dragged the naked brunette into the room. There was a lot of smooth, pale skin in evidence. Clint had taken the time to pull on his pants, so Reeves did the same. Now the skin that was showing was mostly female.

  There was some commotion in the hall now that Clint and Reeves were not there. Clint slammed the door of Reeves’s room. It wouldn’t close firmly, but it stayed just ajar.

  “Are you ladies aware what just happened?” Clint asked.

  “No,” Letty said. “I—I was under the bed.”

  Clint looked at Julie.

  “Seems to me you killed some men who were tryin’ to kill you.”

  “And is that what you’ll tell the sheriff?” Clint asked.

  She smirked and said, “Well, yeah, but it won’t matter much.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he ain’t much of a sheriff.”

  “You let us worry about that,” Reeves said. “What we wanna know now is, what—if anythin’—did you two know about this?”

  “Wha—” Letty said.

  “God, no!” Julia said. “You think if I knew lead was gonna be flying, I’d be here?”

  Clint studied her. She didn’t look as frightened as her friend, Letty, but both girls looked to him to be telling the truth.

  “You gals better get dressed,” he told the naked women. “We’re probably going to be having some company soon.”

  Letty grabbed her clothes, and she and Julie ran to Clint’s room to get dressed.

  “You believe them?” Reeves asked.

  “Yeah, I do,” Clint said, scratching his head. “There was too much of a chance of them getting hurt for them to be in on it.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Too bad,” Clint said. “I was sort of having a good time.”

  “When did you realize what was happenin’?” the black deputy asked.

  “Oh,” Clint said, “I had an idea that even if they weren’t in on it, somebody might use them as a distraction anyway. I didn’t like the looks we were getting in the saloon. I think I know why the town is called Poison Springs. It’s not exactly friendly.”

  “Did it ever occur to you to warn me?” Reeves asked his friend.

  “Oh, I knew you’d hear them coming down the hall like a herd of cattle,” Clint said.

  “Yeah, well,” Reeves said, “you better go get dressed if the sheriff’s comin’.”

  “And then we’ll get our rooms changed,” Clint suggested.

  “Why bother?” Reeves asked. “Let’s just saddle up and get out of here before somethin’ else happens.”

  Clint shrugged.

  “That suits me.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  When the sheriff arrived, they learned firsthand that Julie had been right. The lawman was
bleary-eyed and smelled of booze. He looked around at the dead men on the floor of the rooms and the hall and said, “Looks like self-defense to me.”

  Clint and Reeves didn’t object. The sheriff got some men to remove the dead bodies, and then he went back to whatever he had been doing—sleeping, drinking, probably both.

  The girls left, as well, and when they were alone, Clint and Reeves collected their saddlebags and rifles and walked to the livery.

  As they approached the front doors, there were a couple of shots, and two bullets dug into the dirt in front of them. Both men stopped, but didn’t take cover. Clint knew what was happening.

  “Shit,” Reeves said.

  “What?”

  “That bartender and desk clerk. They were his sons.”

  “I forgot about that,” Clint said. “I guess he heard the news.”

  “Hello, the stable!” Reeves called out.

  “Yeah, I’m here!” the man called back. “And I got your horse, Adams. I’m gonna kill it.”

  Clint felt a moment of panic, then remembered the look on the man’s face when he handed over the reins. This was a man who loved horses—especially good ones.

  “He ain’t gonna kill that horse,” Reeves said. “Not even for revenge.”

  “I figured,” Clint said. “He thinks too much of horses.”

  “Then what do we do? Wait him out?”

  “We’re out in the open,” Clint said. “He could have killed us easily. He chose to fire warning shots. His heart ain’t in it.”

  “Then what do we do? Just walk in?”

  “No,” Clint said after a moment, “that would tempt him.”

  There was another shot, this one landing in the dirt closer to them. It was dark, but there was enough of a moon to light them up as targets.

  “Let’s start by getting back into the shadows,” Clint suggested.

  They backed up until they reached the building across the way, a feed and grain store. It was two stories high, and threw a long, dark shadow.

  “Now what?” Reeves asked,

  “You keep him talking,” Clint said. “I’ll work my way around the back.”

  “Okay. You gonna kill ’im?”

  “Not if I can help it,” Clint said. “I think we’ve killed enough members of his family for one night, don’t you?”

  When Clint got around to the back of the stable, he could hear the man inside and Reeves exchanging words, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. That didn’t matter. Once he got inside, he could stop the man from talking, and shooting.

  He found the single back door. It was unlocked. He stepped inside, drew his gun. There was a lamp burning, and he could see the man standing by the front door with his rifle. He could also see Eclipse in one of the stalls.

  He moved up behind the man and said, “Put the rifle down, friend.”

  The man froze. If he turned, Clint would have to shoot him. Instead, he simply stood still.

  “You killed my boys.”

  “They tried to kill us.”

  “Might as well kill me, then.”

  “Not unless you turn on me with that rifle,” Clint sad. “Now put it down.”

  The man didn’t move.

  “There’s no point to this,” Clint sad.

  “No point in livin’ without my boys.”

  “Look,” Clint said, “we both know you could have shot us outside, and if you were really ready to die, you would have turned on me by now. So put… the rifle…down!”

  The man hesitated, then dropped the rifle.

  “Bass! It’s okay to come in!” Clint shouted.

  The man turned and walked to the side, sat down on a bale of hay. Bass Reeves opened the front doors and walked in.

  “Okay?”

  “That’s his rifle.”

  Reeves picked it up, unloaded it, and tossed it aside.

  “Let’s get out of here before somebody else gets it in their heads to kill us,” he said.

  “Right.”

  They saddled their horses and walked them outside. The liveryman—whose name they never learned—remained where he was, staring at the ground between his feet.

  They mounted up, looked back at him.

  “I’m sorry,” Clint said.

  The man didn’t respond. Clint and Reeves exchanged a look, then rode out of Poison Springs.

  TWENTY-THREE

  A few miles outside of town they stopped to camp and get some sleep. They were both starving. They had gotten to town too late to get something to eat, and had to leave town without having breakfast. Clint put on a pot of coffee and they ate what beef jerky they had left.

  “That’s the last time I stop in any town that has the word ‘Poison’ in the name.”

  “We better stand watch tonight,” Reeves said. “Those crazies might come after us.”

  Clint nodded. They drank coffee and ate while they discussed what they had to do the next day.

  “We’re going to have to pick up some supplies in the next town,” Clint said.

  “Let’s hope it’s not a town of crazy people, like the last one,” Reeves said.

  “When it gets light, I’ll have to find their trail again,” Clint said. “Lucky their horses are wearing those Army horseshoes.”

  “Seems like they kept everythin’ from the Buffalo Soldiers except the spirit,” Reeves lamented.

  “That disappoints you.”

  Reeves looked at Clint.

  “I feel odd,” he said, “like somebody close to me died.”

  “I understand,” Clint said. “Your time with the Buffalo Soldiers was special. Maybe it was special to these men, too, at one time, but now they’ve got something eating at them inside that you don’t.”

  “I ain’t forgot what my people had to go through,” Reeves said. “I get real angry and bitter sometimes, but these men…men I might have called brothers once…they’re givin’ my people a bad name. They’re givin’ folks somethin’ to point to and say, ‘See? They nothin’ but animals.’ ”

  “Well, I want to say I understand, Bass,” Clint said, “but I guess there’s no way I could. But I do sympathize with you.”

  “I appreciate it,” Reeves said. He picked up the coffeepot, found it empty. “I’ll make another pot and take first watch.”

  “Okay.”

  Clint wrapped himself in his blanket, put his head on his saddle, and set his holster right next to his head. He didn’t think people from town would be coming after them, but who knew? They had been forced to kill six townsmen, and the law hadn’t done anything about it. All they needed was a bunch of vigilantes with torches and a rope to find them asleep in camp.

  Even though Reeves was on watch, Clint didn’t sleep very well, and was already awake when Reeves nudged him four hours later.

  Clint made still another pot of coffee as the sun came up, the last pot they’d be able to make until they bought some supplies in the next town.

  He handed Reeves a cup as he woke him. The big black man rolled to his feet readily, appearing to be fully awake.

  “I think we should swing east,” Reeves said. “If our men circled the town, maybe we’ll pick up their trail out there.”

  “Up to you,” Clint said. “I can usually hold my own as a tracker, but with you, I’ll gladly follow.”

  They broke camp, stomped the fire, and saddled their horses.

  They came to a signpost that said: kilkenny, kansas.

  “We coulda stopped in Coffeyville, got some hot food,” Gordon grumbled.

  “And a hot woman,” Franklin added.

  “With the money we’re gonna make in Kilkenny,” Washington said from ahead of them, “you can get all the food and women you want, hot or cold.”

  They looked at each other, always amazed at what that man could say.

  Washington turned in his saddle and looked at them both.

  “You boys wanna ride back to Coffeyville, be my guest,” he said.

  “Naw,” Gordon sa
id, “that’s okay, Sarge.”

  “We’re with you,” Franklin said.

  “All right,” Washington said. “No more complaints, then.”

  “Yessir,” Franklin said.

  “Yeah, right,” Gordon agreed.

  Washington turned and looked at the sign again. No population numbers. He didn’t like that. He hoped the information he’d gotten about Kilkenny was right.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “Coffeyville?” Reeves asked.

  “Independence after that,” Clint said.

  “The tracks are still goin’ north,” Reeves said. “I think they’re gonna bypass both towns.”

  “And go where?” Clint asked. “What town around here’s got a big enough strike for them— Wichita?”

  “Dodge City?”

  “There’s nothing in Dodge anymore,” Clint said. “In the old days any of these towns would have a bank with cattle money in it. Wichita, Ellsworth, Dodge…but not now.”

  “Then maybe it’s not money,” Reeves said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They been killin’ people,” Reeves said.

  “You think they’re looking for someplace to kill…who? A dignitary? Or just a lot of people?”

  “Or both.”

  “All right, then,” Clint said. “We keep going.”

  “I never thought anything else,” Bass Reeves said.

  Corporal Jefferson accepted a beer from Carl Weatherby, who then handed another to Ben Webster.

  “Siddown, Carl,” Jefferson said.

  Weatherby sat with his own beer.

  “They shoulda been here by now, Corporal,” Weatherby said.

  “Don’t worry, Carl,” Jefferson said. “The sarge will be here. He gave us the short way so we’d be here waitin’ for him.”

  “Well,” Carl Weatherby said, “I’m getting’ tired of waitin’.”

  “Then go back upstairs,” Jefferson said. “I’ll bet you ain’t wore out that whore yet.”

  Weatherby brightened and said, “That’s a good idea.” He stood, holding his beer, and looked at Webster. “She got a sister.”

  Webster smiled and stood up. “You don’t gotta ask me twice.”

  They both looked at their corporal, and Weatherby said, “Sorry, Corporal, she ain’t got a mother.”