Red River Showdown

by J. R. Roberts

  Clint’s hand moved aside his jacket so he could place his hand on the grip of his Colt. He didn’t need to hear every word that had been said to know that he’d found the right place. He also knew he needed to move quickly before the situation got any worse for whoever was inside.

  With his one hand still on his pistol, Clint stretched out his free hand and knocked on the wall.

  A few more voices came from the other side, but they were too quick and too hushed for Clint to make out what they were saying. Just to be safe, however, he stepped away from the wall so his back was to the paddle wheel.

  The wall shook a little and a section of it swung inward less than an inch. Clint was standing at the wrong angle to be able to see inside, so he waited there without moving a muscle.

  After a few seconds, the door’s hinges squeaked again. The section of wall swung in a bit more, and a man stuck his head out to get a look around. Since most of the boat was to his right, that’s where the man turned. Clint was standing to his left and wasted no time before grabbing the man by his tussled hair and pulling him out of the hidden room.

  “What the hell?” the man said in surprise.

  Clint kept pulling until he got a look at the man’s whole body. Once he saw the gun gripped in the man’s hand, Clint turned so he could direct the top of the man’s head toward the railing behind him. Skull met iron with a satisfying clang. When Clint let go of the man’s hair, the man staggered and fell awkwardly onto his backside.

  Stepping in front of the door, Clint managed to get a quick look inside. There were several large tools hanging from the walls, one man tied to a chair and one other standing there with a rifle in his hands. Clint moved away from the doorway as soon as he saw that rifle, and just managed to clear it before a shot was fired from the room.

  Although Clint could hear the distinctive crack of a gunshot, most of that sound was swallowed up by the paddle wheel, which was only a yard or two away. Clint looked around to see if anyone else was coming or if someone had heard the shot.

  There wasn’t a window allowing the back poker room to look at the paddle wheel, so nobody in there could have seen anything. As far as Clint could tell, the rest of the deck in the vicinity was clear, so he shifted his attention back to the more important matter of staying alive.

  The first man was still shaking off the effects of being knocked headfirst into the railing. He staggered to his feet and quickly realized he’d dropped the gun he’d been holding.

  The second man wasn’t so quick to charge out of the room. In fact, it looked as though he wasn’t even going to leave his spot. “Who the hell’s out there?” he shouted from inside the room. “You come any closer and this man in here with me’s gonna die!”

  Clint had been standing with his back against the wall, which he now knew was the side wall of that hidden room. With his ear pressed against the wall, he was able to get a feel for where the man inside was standing. Pressing the Colt’s barrel against the wall, Clint adjusted his aim and pulled the trigger. The shot was a bit louder than the rifle shot, but most of it was still washed out by the paddle wheel.

  Before the man inside could do anything, Clint hurried through the door and into the little room. Just as he’d figured, his shot had punched a hole through two walls, but was too high and wide to hit anyone. It did, however, come close enough to put a fright into the rifleman.

  Clint moved toward the rifleman and took a swing at him before he had a chance to think better about the idea. His fist knocked squarely into the man’s jaw, sending him backward to trip over the fellow tied to a chair. As his back hit the wall, it looked as if he was going to fall down and fire a shot from his rifle, but he caught himself before doing either.

  The man tied to the chair sputtered and squirmed as all of this was happening around him. Mostly, he pulled his head down and tried to curl up just to keep away from the guns and fists being thrown around so close to him.

  Clint turned sideways and stretched out his left arm to grab the rifleman’s shirt front and slam him once more into the wall. The man still didn’t drop his rifle.

  Catching a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye, Clint turned in that direction and was just in time to see the first man standing there. There was a red line running down the middle of that man’s face and blood dripping from his nose. He scowled at Clint and brought up his pistol.

  Clint’s right arm snapped out in that direction and fired out of pure instinct. He then pulled his gun arm in to crack the handle of the Colt against the rifleman’s forehead to finally drop that man to the floor.

  Hearing steps knocking against the deck nearby, Clint hurried out of the room to find the first man still wobbling there. The man’s eyes were rolled up into his head, and he was only upright because of the rail behind him. Clint could hear several people hurrying around the corner, so he pushed the standing corpse over the rail, ducked back into the room and shut the door.

  THIRTY-TWO

  “Please help me,” the man tied to the chair groaned.

  Clint was pressed against the wall and waved toward the sound of the man’s voice. He turned toward the fellow in the chair just long enough to whisper, “Shut up and sit still.”

  After seeing what he’d just seen, the man was content for a little while longer to stay in his chair and not squirm against his ropes.

  Clint turned so his face was once again pressed against the wall. That way, he was able to get a look outside through the bullet hole he’d created less than a minute ago. The hole wasn’t too big, but it was enough to allow him to see three men in dark clothes rush around the corner. Clint could also feel those men’s footsteps as they walked closer and closer to the wall.

  “Are you sure you heard something over here?” one of the men asked.

  Although the second man was standing closer to the wall, he was standing too close for Clint to get a look at him. Instead, Clint could hear the man shuffling back and forth less than a foot away from him.

  “I heard something,” the second man said. “Didn’t you?”

  “What?”

  Raising his voice to be heard over the paddle wheel and churning water, the man asked, “Didn’t you hear anything?”

  “I thought I heard something, but I don’t know what the hell it was. For all I know it was some kid hunting squirrels on the shore somewhere.”

  Clint could feel the second man moving around. It wasn’t anything concrete, but more of the sort of feeling someone got when he knew he was being watched. Closing his eyes, Clint eased his boot against the door to hold it shut if someone tried to push it open.

  After a tense couple of seconds, the man stepped directly in front of the hole Clint was looking through.

  “I can’t even hear myself think so close to this goddamn wheel,” he grunted.

  There were more steps knocking against the deck nearby, but Clint couldn’t hear much more than that.

  Apparently, the first man heard something else, because he turned and shouted, “It’s nothing. Just like I said it was.”

  “Let’s go play some cards before someone steals the money I had on the table,” the man closest to the wall grunted.

  After that, all those sets of footsteps moved away from the room until they were swallowed up by the constant sound of the paddle wheel.

  Clint turned away from the wall so he could get a look at the man tied to the chair. That man looked like he was in his early twenties, but still outweighed Clint by at least thirty pounds. Sweat rolled down his face and glistened in the dim light cast by a single, sputtering lantern that was burning just enough to remain lit.

  “Are you going to kill me?” the man asked.

  “I was thinking about getting you out of those ropes,” Clint replied. “How’s that sound?”

  The man nodded with his mouth agape, as if he was waiting for the offer to be retracted at any moment.

  Since he didn’t have a knife on him, Clint set about loosening the ropes the old-f
ashioned way. As his fingers dug into the knots, he spoke to the man in the chair in the calmest voice he could manage.

  “What’s your name?” Clint asked.

  “Marty.”

  “You’re a gambler, Marty?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “No need for the formalities. My name’s Clint. Even though I’m not going to hurt you, I’d appreciate it if you kept your voice down just in case any more of these assholes come back around to check on their friends.”

  That seemed to put Marty’s mind at ease. Feeling his hands start to come free also gave him a boost of confidence as he straightened up and spoke in a quicker rush of words. “Who the hell are these guys? Why’d they come after me? I don’t even know who they are!”

  “Remember the deal, Marty. Keep quiet.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Sit still and I’ll have you out in a bit.” As he pulled on the knot that Marty had just tightened thanks to his sudden movements, Clint asked, “What happened to land you in here?”

  “I was doing well at a table and one of the men asked me to have a cigar with him outside. The next thing I know, some other big fellows jumped me and hit me on the head. When I woke up, I was here.”

  “That’s all you remember?”

  “Apart from being stuffed in here while they threatened me, that’s all there was.”

  “Did they hurt you at all?” Clint asked.

  “They knocked me around some, but it wasn’t as bad as the knock to the head. That still hurts like hell.”

  “Good,” Clint said as he stood up. “Then you can stand up and help me lift this fellow up so he can take your place.”

  Marty stood up slowly. When the ropes dropped away from him, he looked as if he might give Clint a grateful bear hug.

  “He might be coming around,” Clint said as a way to stop the hug before it got started.

  Marty turned his enthusiasm toward the man on the floor and did most of the work in lifting him up. When he dropped him onto the chair, Marty was looking right into the man’s face as he started to groan and open his eyes.

  Before Clint could lift a finger, Marty slammed his fist into the man’s face and dropped him right back into unconsciousness.

  “How do you like that?” Marty said to the man who was already slumping into the chair.

  Clint had the ropes in hand and started looping them around the new prisoner.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Mia hurried to the hallway leading to room number one. There were plenty of hallways throughout the riverboat, but most of them were short and skinny. Only one on each deck ran the entire length of the boat, and this wasn’t one of them. In fact, this hallway barely ran for more than a few paces and only led to one door.

  That door, however, had a small number one painted on it. It also had two large men with guns at their hips nearly blocking her view.

  After a quick look down that hall, Mia put on a large smile and, with her hands held behind her back, walked toward the door and its guards.

  “Well, well,” she said sweetly. “What have we here?”

  Although both of the men took a moment to look her over, only one of them spoke.

  “Are you looking for someone?” he asked.

  “Sure. I’m looking for two big, strong men to give me something to do since everyone else is obsessed with playing cards all day long. You think you can help me with that?”

  They both chuckled, but the spokesman shook his head. “Maybe later. You should probably move along.”

  “What about the man in that room? Maybe he’d like to play with me?”

  “Mr. Crane is getting ready for a private game, and it’s not the sort you’re after.”

  Having made her way all they way up to the guards, Mia reached out to place one hand flat against each of their chests. She rubbed them up and down, while shifting her eyes back and forth between them. “How do you know what I’m after?” she purred.

  “I think I can hazard a guess.”

  Her eyes narrowed a bit, and she pursed her lips as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to say something or give him a kiss. Finally, she whispered, “You could always let me in so I could ask him myself.”

  The guard seemed to take a moment to consider the offer. Either that, or he was just enjoying having Mia so close to him. Reluctantly, he told her, “I don’t think so, ma’am. You should probably leave.”

  The second guard jumped in by offering, “You could always come back a little later. I’ll bet one of us would be more’n happy to oblige you with a game or two.”

  “Really?” Mia whispered as she sauntered in between the two guards. She kept her hands on both of them until she was within an inch of the door. Suddenly, she turned around and then replaced her hands upon both men’s chests. “Why wait until later?”

  Even the guard who’d been speaking in a stern, controlled voice the entire time looked as if he might choke when he heard that. He glanced between her and his partner without being able to get a word out of his mouth.

  The second guard, on the other hand, wasn’t having the same sort of trouble. “What do you have in mind, sweetie?” he asked.

  Mia never took her eyes off the men’s faces. When she wasn’t looking one in the eyes, she was staring down the other. The intensity in those glares was almost enough on its own to put both men under her command.

  “We can’t just . . . ,” the first guard sputtered.

  “I can take care of both of you right here,” Mia said. “Since one of you is a little nervous, I can start with the one who’s more willing.”

  “That’d be me,” the second guard said as he took a step closer to her.

  The first guard gritted his teeth and fixed his eyes upon his partner as if he was going to knock the other man’s head clean off his shoulders. Before he could say or do a thing, Mia was already in motion.

  Both of her hands dropped down to the guards’ gun belts. She plucked each man’s gun from its holster with so much ease that she was able to raise them, aim one at each man’s face and thumb the hammers back.

  Taking a few quick steps away from the door, Mia put herself out of the guards’ reach and was able to keep an eye on both of them at the same time.

  “What the fuck is this?” the second guard grunted.

  Keeping her feet planted and her guns pointed at both men’s heads, she replied, “The last day of your lives if you don’t play your cards right.”

  The first guard barely even moved his lips as he snarled, “You’re dead.”

  “Is that what you said to the people in those banks you robbed? Or what about the men who came after those horses you stole?” she asked the second guard. “Did you have anything to say to them? I know who both of you are: Pete Northern and Don McNabb.”

  Just seeing the surprised look on those two men’s faces was more than enough to tell Mia she was on the right track. Of course, recognizing them from wanted posters displayed by the Texas Rangers didn’t hurt.

  “I also know you’re working for Jack Solomon,” she said. That statement was a slight gamble, but it quickly paid off.

  “So you know,” McNabb, the first guard, said. “So what?”

  “So when were you going to move on Daryl Crane?” Mia asked.

  The guards looked back and forth at each other, with McNabb fiercely glaring to keep Pete silent.

  “It’s all right,” Mia said. “You don’t have to say anything anymore. You look like guilty bastards and that’s just what you are. Practically every big player on this boat knew Crane was coming, so that was no secret.”

  “So what the hell do you want from us?” McNabb asked.

  “Tell me everything that Solomon has planned and I might consider letting you go.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Mia asked.

  McNabb smirked and replied, “Because you’re the law, and no law in their right mind would let us go.”

  “Maybe I’m n
ot the law.”

  “If you weren’t, you woulda shot by now.”

  When Mia smirked, it wiped the grin right off of McNabb’s face. “Then maybe I’m not in my right mind.”

  “What you gonna do now?” Pete asked. “Sooner or later someone will come along and see you with them guns in your hands.”

  “Guess I’d better put them to use, then,” Mia said. “Unless you want to strike a deal and tell me what I want to know.”

  After saying that, Mia didn’t make a move.

  McNabb, on the other hand, dropped down for the backup holster strapped to his boot, and Pete followed suit by reaching for his jacket pocket.

  Mia pulled both of her triggers, sending a bullet into Pete first and then dropping McNabb.

  As the bodies were falling, the door was pulled open and a distinguished-looking gentleman looked out from his room.

  “Mr. Crane?” Mia said as she approached him with a smoking gun in each hand. “We need to talk.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  When Clint and Mia met up again, each of them was surprised to find that the other wasn’t alone. Clint walked into Mia’s room with Marty in tow. Since the room wasn’t much bigger than his, and there were now four people in it, closing the door suddenly became a challenge.

  Mia got up so Marty could sit next to Crane, while Clint took a spot close to the door. Introductions were quickly made, and then Clint and Mia both swapped stories as to what they’d been doing since they split up. When they were done, Mia asked, “Can you think of a better place to hide these two?”

  “Sure,” Clint replied. “Anywhere off of this boat.”

  “But there’s not a stop scheduled until we’re on our way back up the river. And Solomon will have made his move by then.”

  “You still don’t even know what, exactly, that move is going to be,” Clint pointed out.

  Mia started to speak. She wanted to speak. She even made a second attempt to speak, but she finally wound up shaking her head. “I know what he wants to do, but you’re right. I still don’t know exactly how he’s going to do it.”