by JR Roberts
The six men behind Gately tensed, and he held a hand out to stay them from any foolish moves.
“I’ll talk to Colonel Wentworth,” Clint said, “not to you.”
“Wentworth?” Gately asked.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know who he is,” Clint said, “or that he’s not here.”
“No, no,” Gately said, “I’ll take you to Wentworth. Your friend can stay here with my men.”
“I’ll come along,” Roper said.
Gately looked at Roper, who stared back unwaveringly.
“In that case,” he said, “we’ll all go.”
“Just point the way,” Clint said.
“The far end of town,” Gately said. “Corporal, three men in front and three in back, please.”
“Yes, sir!”
The men stepped down from the boardwalk and took up their positions.
“Are you ready?” Gately asked Clint.
“Ready as we’ll ever be.”
The house stood outside of town a ways, not inside the town limits. It was nothing like Wentworth’s house in Springfield. This one was large, taking up one floor, but it was in need of work. They stopped on the outside of the once white fence that surrounded the house.
“You can leave your horses here,” Gately said.
Clint and Roper dismounted, Roper using the fence to tie his horse off. As he usually did, Clint simply grounded Eclipse’s reins. The Darley Arabian would not go anywhere unless he thought he had to.
Gately led the way to the front door, with three men flanking him. Clint and Roper followed, with the other three men behind them.
When they reached the door Gately stepped to it and knocked. The door was opened by a black man wearing a white jacket and black tie.
“Suh?” he said to Gately.
“These are the men we’ve been waitin’ for,” Gately said. “They want to see the person in charge.”
“Yes, sir,” the black man said, “please come in.”
“After you gents,” Gately said, letting Clint and Roper enter first. He then followed, leaving five of the solders outside and taking only his Corporal with him.
Just inside the door he said, “I’ll need your guns.”
“What?” Clint asked.
“The only way this works is if we take your guns,” Gately said.
“You’re kidding,” Roper said.
“Not at all.”
“Ain’t going to happen,” Clint said. “We give up our guns, then we’re not on equal ground.”
“What makes you think you were ever on equal ground from the moment you rode into town?”
“Not giving up our guns,” Clint said.
“You will not get the casket if you don’t give up your guns.”
“And you will not get your money if you try to take them,” Clint said.
“Looks like a stalemate,” Roper said. “I think you need someone in authority to make this decision for you, son.”
Gately’s face grew red, but someone else stepped into the entry foyer at that moment, surprising Clint.
“They can keep their guns,” she said.
“But ma’am —”
“Captain,” Gemma Wentworth said, “who’s in charge here, you or me?”
“You, ma’am.”
“Then they can keep their guns,” she said. She looked at Clint and Roper. “Follow me please, gentlemen.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
They followed Gemma Wentworth into a sparsely furnished living room, where Clint expected to see her husband, Colonel Wentworth.
“Where’s your husband?” Clint asked.
“You don’t need him,” she said. She was wearing a man’s shirt, trousers and boots, a far cry from the dress she wore in Springfield.
“What are you talking about,” Clint said. “You know why I’m here. We need to negotiate—”
“You negotiate with me, Clint.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“You?”
“I’m in charge,” she said. “Are you surprised?”
“Well, yes.”
Roper certainly was.
“When did this happen?” Clint asked.
“I’ve been in charge all along,” she said. “Even back in Springfield.”
Now Clint was surprised.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t tell you then. But everything that we … everything that happened was … needed.”
Clint looked at Roper, who was staring at the woman.
“Where’s the money?” she asked.
“Where’s the President?”
“You mean Lincoln’s body?” she asked. “He’s certainly not the President anymore.”
“He’ll always be the President to me.”
“Well, that’s your problem,” she said. “The fact is, he’s a cold, long dead corpse.”
“Worth a hundred thousand dollars.”
“That,” she said, “was my husband’s idea. I think he’s worth more.”
“We didn’t bring more,” Clint said.
“Oh, I know that,” she said. “No, no, we’ll stick to the original bargain. Just tell us where the money is.”
“Show us the casket, first.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but that doesn’t work for me.”
“Then we’re at an impasse,” he said.
“No,” she said, “we can work something out. Are you hungry?”
“I am,” Roper admitted.
“Yes,” Clint said, “we’re hungry.”
“Simon,” she said to the black man, “lay out some food for our friends.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We’ll talk—negotiate—over some food,” she told Clint. “Edward, you will join us.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And what about the Colonel?”
“Don’t worry about my husband,” she said. “He’ll be around. Just have a seat here and wait. I will go and change so we can eat.”
“Ma’am?” Gately said.
“You wait with them Captain,” she said. “The Corporal can leave, unless you think you need him. But he will not be eating with us.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She left the room, presumably to go to her bedroom and change clothes. Clint wondered where Samuel Wentworth was.
Clint and Roper both sat down on the sofa.
“Have a seat, Captain,” Clint said. “Like the lady said, we’ll just wait to eat.”
“Do you think you need your Corporal?” Roper asked. “To keep you safe?”
Gately face grew red.
“Corporal, you can go,” he said.
“But, sir.”
“I’ll call you when I need you,” Gately said. “Wait outside with the rest of the men.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Corporal left and Gately sat in an armchair that had seen better days.
After a little bit of time had gone by with no one speaking, Clint broke the silence.
“What’s going on, Captain?” Clint asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Where’s the Colonel?”
“The Colonel has been having some … problems for a long time,” the young Captain said. “That is why Mr. Wentworth stepped up to take over.”
“Really?” Roper asked. “Aren’t you second-in-command, Captain?”
“I am second-in-command here,” Gately said, “of this division. She is in command of—”
“Captain?”
The black man Simon had entered the room.
“Yes?”
“Lunch is served.”
“Keep it hot until Mrs. Wentworth returns.”
“Yes, sir.”
Simon went back into the kitchen.
“Where is he, Captain?” Clint asked. “Where’s the Colonel?”
“It won’t be necessary to answer that, Captain,” Gemma said, reappearing. She was wearing a long, high-necked dress. “It’s time to eat.”
Chapte
r Thirty-Five
The lunch was more sumptuous than most dinners. Clint wondered where this band of ex-Confederates got their supplies from.
Gemma did most of the talking, and most of it was about a reborn Confederacy. It sounded like she was espousing her husband’s dream, but from the look on her face she believed every word of it.
“Back when there was a Confederacy,” she said, “we lived in a beautiful house in Virginia. We had servants, slaves, friends … we had a life. Good wine, good food, elegant clothes … and then the Union came. They burned it all, while Samuel was away at the war. They came and burned us out. So you see, they owe us. The owe me!” Her eyes blazed.
“So for those reasons you steal President Lincoln’s body,” Clint said.
“Wyatt came to Samuel with the idea. My husband went for it. He said the money would go into our war chest.” She looked at Captain Gately. “Captain, why don’t you taker Mr. Roper out for some air. Right out back.”
“I got men out front, ma’am—”
“Out back will be fine.” She obviously wanted to talk to Clint alone.
Roper looked at Clint, who nodded. The Captain and Roper both got up and went out the back door.
“Simon,” Gemma said, “give us a few minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Take the Colonel some food.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Simon made a tray up and left the kitchen with it.
Gemma reached across the table and put her hand on Clint’s arm.
“After this payment we’ll have a half a million in our war chest,” she said. “Samuel thinks that will buy back the Confederacy.”
“And you don’t?”
“The South is dead,” she said. “It was dead the minute Lee surrendered. Men like my husband have been fooling themselves for years.”
“But not you, huh?”
“No, not me,” she said.
“So that money’s yours?” he asked. “How you going to get it away from the Captain and his men?”
“The Captain is a young man who has never been to war,” she said. “He can be bought.”
“With money?”
She smiled. “And other things.”
“Ah. You think he’ll go for that?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not quite past my prime yet. Maybe he will. Or maybe I’ll need some help.”
“From me?”
“Half a million dollars, Clint,” she said. “Think about it. We were good together in Springfield.”
“That was one night, Gemma.”
“We could be good again.”
He slid his arm away from her touch.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m here to do a job. You see, my side won the war. We’re still around.”
She drew her hand back and sneered. “Bluebellies. How do I know you weren’t there the day they burned me out?”
“You don’t,” he said. “I don’t. If I was there we were both pretty young.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I still remember it very well.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“How many plantations did you burn, Clint, that you don’t remember, anymore?”
“That wasn’t my job,” he said. “But this is. Have your young Captain take me to Lincoln’s body.”
She sat back in her chair and composed herself. Through the window on the door Clint could see Roper and Gately standing outside. They were not talking. In fact, they weren’t even looking at each other.
“Tomorrow,” she said, finally. “Take the night. Sleep on my offer.”
“I don’t think so, Gemma,” Clint said. “I don’t think I want to sleep in this town. Take us to the body and we’ll get you the money and be on our way.”
“Get me half the money,” she said, “and I’ll show you where the body is.”
Clint looked out the window, again. Suddenly, there were three more grey uniforms back there, and they were all pointing guns at Roper who, in turn, was pointing his gun at Gately.
“We’ll keep your friend here until you get back.”
Clint drew his gun and pointed it at Gemma, who reared back, looking surprised.
“Roper and I will go and get half the money and come back,” he said. “Have the Captain bring him back in here.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll kill you right, now, Gemma.”
“You wouldn’t,” she said. “How would you get the body back, then?”
He cocked the hammer on his gun and said, “That’s not something you’re going to have to worry about.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Gemma stared at the gun and for a moment Clint thought she was going to be brave enough to try to call what she thought was his bluff, but in the end she stood, walked to the door and said, “Captain, bring Mr. Roper inside, please.”
Clint heard Gately said, “Yes, ma’am,” and he and Roper reentered the kitchen. They both saw Clint’s gun in his hand.
“What’s gong on?” Gately asked.
“Change of plan,” Gemma said. “Mr. Adams and Mr. Roper will go and get half the money and bring it to us. We will then take them to the casket.”
“Along with the wagon that was used to transport it here,” Clint said.
“Our wagon?” she asked.
“Well buy it from you.”
She nodded. “Very well.”
Clint stood up and holstered his gun.
“There’s going to be a mess out front if your soldiers go for their guns when we step out,” he said.
“The Captain will escort you to your horses.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The Captain left the kitchen, followed by Roper. As Clint started to follow Gemma put her hand on his left arm.
“You wouldn’t have really shot me, would you?” she asked.
“To save my friend?” he said. “In a second.”
She took her hand away and he followed the other two men.
As they went out the front door the six soldiers came to attention. Clint noticed for the first time how their uniform jackets had been mended and tended to, over and over. The Captain’s jacket, however, was impeccable.
“You know the deal,” Gately said. “Half the money.”
“We know the deal, Captain,” Clint said. “And if anyone should try to follow us, it wouldn’t end well.”
“Understood.”
Clint and Roper mounted up and rode back up the street, the way they had come.
“We just gonna let them go?” Corporal Morehouse asked.
“That’s right,” Gately said.
“But … why?”
“Because, Corporal,” Gately said, “those are our orders.”
“B-but—”
“They’ll be right back with half of the money.”
“Half?” Morehouse said. “What if they just ride off with all of it. Shouldn’t we go with them?”
“No, we shouldn’t,” Gately said. “They’ll be back.”
“How can you be sure?”
“They want their dead President.”
“Jesus,” Morehouse said, “it’s just a damn corpse—and an old one, at that.”
“That’s Union thinking for you,” Captain Gately said. He turned and went back into the house.
Gemma Wentworth was sitting on the sofa in the livingroom.
“Are they gone?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Simon entered the room with an empty tray.
“Did he eat?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good,” she said. “You can clean the kitchen now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And how are you doing, Captain.”
“Fine, ma’am.”
“And your whore? What’s her name?”
“Katy.”
“Is she keeping you happy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Come closer, Captain.”
H
e took a few steps, so he was within her reach. She unbuttoned his trousers, reached inside and took out his cock. It was already beginning to swell, and got harder still as she stroked it.
“Is she really? Look at that. That doesn’t look like it’s been taken care of, does it?”
“No, ma’am,” he said.
“Oh yeah,” she said, “there it is, nice and big. Look at that. I’ll bet that keeps her happy, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She leaned forward so that her mouth was very close to the head of his penis, then looked up at him and said, “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, ma’am.”
She smiled at him, then opened her mouth and practically swallowed him whole …
“Nobody following,” Roper said.
“I didn’t think they would,” Clint said.
“What was that about in the kitchen?”
“What was that about outside?”
“Suddenly I was surrounded by grey coats, and they wanted my gun,” Roper said.
“Well, I told her they had to let you go or I’d shoot her.”
“Obviously, it worked.”
“Yes.”
“You know they’re going to try and keep the body after we give them the money, don’t you? That woman is crazy.”
“I know,” Clint said. “I thought of that.”
“That means gunplay.”
“Yup.”
“That’s a ragtag looking lot of soldiers.”
“Those six, anyway,” Clint said. “Who knows how many others there are?”
“I think we’re going to find that out the hard way,” Roper said.
Gemma finished with Captain Gately and sucking his penis dry, and stowing the thing back in his pants and then giving his crotch one last pat. She sat back and wiped the corners of her mouth with her fingertips.
“That was very sweet, Captain. Thank you. Now you’d better go back outside and watch for our friends to return, Captain,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And have the rest of the men ready,” she said, “for when we take them to the casket.”
“Are we actually gonna give it to them?”
“No,” she said, “but we’re going to take them to it so they can see what they’re not getting.”
