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The Hunt for Clint Adams

Page 1

by J. Roberts




  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  ONE - YUMA PRISON

  TWO - LABYRINTH, TEXAS

  THREE

  FOUR - WICHITA, KANSAS FOUR AND A HALF YEARS AGO

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  Watch for ANATOMY OF A LAWMAN

  Long Time Coming

  The street was just starting to come alive, and for the moment nobody noticed the two men talking to each other. But when they moved out into the street, facing each other, that was when people stopped to watch. That could only mean one thing.

  Clint saw people starting to notice them, figured they’d better get it over with before a crowd gathered.

  “Go ahead, Tarver,” Clint said. “Do it.”

  “That’s right,” Tarver said, “I heard you always give away the first move. That’ll cost you, this time. Cost you big.”

  “Just shut up and do what you’ve been waiting four and a half years to do—die.”

  DON’T MISS THESE ALL-ACTION WESTERN SERIES FROM THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  THE GUNSMITH by J. R. Roberts Clint Adams was a legend among lawmen, outlaws, and ladies. They called him . . . the Gunsmith.

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  DIAMONDBACK by Guy Brewer Dex Yancey is Diamondback, a Southern gentleman turned con man when his brother cheats him out of the family fortune. Ladies love him. Gamblers hate him. But nobody pulls one over on Dex . . .

  WILDGUN by Jack Hanson The blazing adventures of mountain man Will Barlow—from the creators of Longarm!

  TEXAS TRACKER by Tom Calhoun J.T. Law: the most relentless—and dangerous—manhunter in all Texas. Where sheriffs and posses fail, he’s the best man to bring in the most vicious outlaws—for a price.

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  THE HUNT FOR CLINT ADAMS

  A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Jove edition / July 2010

  Copyright © 2010 by Robert J. Randisi.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-18834-7

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  Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  JOVE® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

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  http://us.penguingroup.com

  ONE

  YUMA PRISON

  Three men.

  Four horses.

  Just outside the main gate of Yuma Prison.

  Barclay looked at his watch impatiently.

  “He was supposed to be out by now,” he said.

  “Relax,” Dexter said.

  “Whaddaya think the holdup is?” Gerald asked.

  Dexter looked at him.

  “The warden’s tryin’ to make him sweat,” Dexter said. “Don’t worry about it. Tarver ain’t gonna sweat. He’s been waitin’ for this day for five years. Another couple of minutes ain’t gonna make a difference.”

  “You think he’ll be . . . different?” Gerald asked.

  Dexter was Tarver’s age, late thirties. He looked at Gerald, who was in his late twenties.

  “He’ll be tougher,” he said.

  “Yeah, but will he be as fast?”

  “Fast don’t go away, kid,” Dexter said.

  “Lotsa fast guns get killed when they get older,” Gerald said. “I read it—”

  “Stop readin’ dime novels, kid,” Dexter said. “I told you, fast don’t go away. It’s the nerve that goes away, and Tarver’s just fine.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  Barclay looked at his watch again and shook his head.

  Tarver walked the hall, one guard ahead of him, another behind. When they got to the warden’s office, the front guard opened the door and stood aside. Tarver entered the room, and the guard closed the door behind him. He saw his belongings on the Warden’s desk.

  “You processin’ prisoners out yerself now, Warden?” he asked.

  Warden William Bankhead looked up from his desk. He smoothed his gray hair unnecessarily and stood up.

  “Only in special cases, Tarver.”

  “And I’m a special case?”

  “From the first day you got here.”

  Tarver frowned.

  “I done my time, Warden,” he said. “I didn’t cause no trouble.”

  “I know,” th
e Warden said. “That’s why you’re getting out six months early.”

  “I earned it.”

  The warden stared at Tarver for a few moments, then said, “Pick up your things.”

  Tarver approached the desk, grabbed his clothes and the meager possessions he’d had in his pockets when he was caught.

  “What about my money and my gun?”

  “The money was stolen,” the warden said, “and I’m not about to let you walk out of here with a gun.”

  “That gun is mine,” Tarver said. “You got no right to keep it.”

  The warden hesitated, then opened a drawer and took out a gun and gunbelt. There were no bullets in the gun or the belt.

  “Tarver, you think everybody is fooled by your good con act, but I’m not. I know that within the month, you’ll either be dead or back in here.”

  “Not a chance either way, Warden,” Tarver said.

  Right in front of the warden he stripped off his prison clothes, donned his old shirt and pants, and pulled on his boots. Then he strapped on his gunbelt, checked his Peacemaker. It needed to be cleaned and oiled.

  And loaded.

  “Thanks, Warden.”

  “The guards will walk you out.”

  “Great,” Tarver said. “I hope I never see you again, Warden.”

  “You will.”

  Tarver walked to the door, then turned and looked at the older man.

  “Well then, Warden,” he said. “I guess what I mean is, you better hope you never see me again. Ya see, I know where you live. I know you got a wife.”

  The warden stood up. Physically, he was an unimpressive man.

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “I’m just tellin’ you, Warden,” Tarver said. “I’m just tellin’ you.”

  He opened the door and walked out.

  When the front gate opened the three men straightened and watched as Tarver walked out.

  “Wait here,” Dexter said.

  He walked up to Tarver and the two men shook hands.

  “Tarver and Dexter, together again,” Tarver said.

  “It’s good to see you, Tarver.”

  Tarver looked past Dexter.

  “That Gerald?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How old is he now?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “Who’s the other one?”

  “Barclay,” Dexter said. “You don’t know him. He’s . . . okay.”

  “I need better than okay, Dexter,” Tarver said. “You know that.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Dexter said. “I got some boys in mind. Where we goin’ first?”

  “Yuma,” Tarver said. “I need a drink, new clothes, and some good food. And a woman.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Tarver said, touching his gun, “some bullets.

  TWO

  LABYRINTH, TEXAS

  Lisa Bonner was rolled over onto her belly and smiled at Clint Adams. Her long black tresses were a pretty mess, but her buttocks were two pale, inflated-to-bursting bubbles. And she had the breasts to match. She was a woman bursting with sexuality, which was what had attracted him to her in the first place.

  It had been her first night in Labyrinth when they’d met in Rick’s Place, Rick Hartman’s saloon and gambling hall. Rick not only allowed women in to drink but to gamble as well. The vivid blue gown that Lisa had been wearing, which was so low cut that her luscious breasts were almost spilling out, attracted every eye in the room when she entered. But when their eyes met across the room, it was like an electric shock in the air. Even Rick noticed it.

  “Wow,” Hartman said, “and without a word.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that woman is already destined for your bed tonight, and you haven’t even spoken a word. I don’t know how you do it.”

  Rick was right. She was in Clint’s bed that night, the next night, and this past night. For the third morning in a row he was looking at her hair, her skin, her butt, and wishing she’d turn over so he could see her breasts.

  “You ain’t goin’ anywhere, mister,” she told him. “Not yet.”

  “It’s morning,” Clint said. He had pulled on his trousers and was now buttoning his shirt. “I’m hungry. I’m going to have some breakfast.”

  “Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Lisa,” he told her, “you make a man build up an appetite.”

  “Clint—”

  “There’s only one way you’re going to stop me from going out that door,” he said.

  “How’s that?”

  “You’ll have to turn over onto your back.”

  She smiled at him, revealing beautiful white teeth, then bit her bottom lip and rolled herself over very slowly. Lying on her back, those solid, chubby breasts were like two mountains of flesh.

  “Oh boy,” he said, stripping off his shirt.

  He moved to the bed, slid his hands over her breasts, rubbing his palms over the nipples, which grew beneath his touch.

  She moaned and put her hands over his.

  “I love when you touch me,” she said.

  He leaned down and kissed her mouth, then her neck. He slid his hands farther down, over her belly, down into the tangle of bushy black hair. His fingers parted the hair until he saw something shiny and glistening, wet and pink. He rubbed his palm over her pussy and she arched her back. He slid his middle finger up and down that moist slit until she was moaning and writhing beneath his touch. Then he stopped.

  “Wha—”

  He moved around the bed so he could look down at her, then unbuckled his belt. She watched as he got naked again, his rigid penis jutting out at her.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, her eyes brightening, “now that’s what a girl calls breakfast!”

  She pulled him down onto the bed with her, rolled him onto his back and mounted him.

  “I don’t want to waste any time,” she told him, lifting her hips and sliding down on him, enveloping him in her heat. “Just lie still and let me have you, and then you can go and have your breakfast.”

  Almost an hour later, Lisa once again watched from the bed as Clint got dressed.

  “This time I’m going to make it out the door,” he promised her.

  She laughed, wrapped in the white sheet so that only her pale shoulders showed.

  “You know,” she said, “I’m supposed to leave town today.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “You’ve got other shows to do, right?”

  “That’s right,” she said, “but I could be persuaded to stay a while longer.”

  “That wouldn’t be very good for your reputation, would it?” he asked. “Missing a show?”

  “Well,” she said, “you give it some thought. I’ll wait right here for you, and when you get back you can tell me if you want me to go or not.”

  “I don’t think I should have any say in the matter, Lisa,” he said, “but okay, if that’s the way you want to play it.”

  “I’ll just take a little nap while you eat,” she said, “because, Clint Adams, you do tire a girl out.”

  THREE

  When Clint walked into the café, Rick Hartman was sitting there with a plate of steak and eggs in front of him.

  “You’re late,” Hartman said as Clint approached his table. There were only a couple of other tables still occupied, as most people had finished their breakfasts and gotten on with their day.

  “Couldn’t be helped,” Clint said, sitting across from Rick. “By the way, late for what?”

  “This is where you’ve been having breakfast most of the time, lately,” Rick said.

  “And you usually have it at your own place,” Clint said. “What’s changed?”

  “Well, I figured I’d find you here, but . . . why don’t you order first and then we’ll talk,” Hartman suggested.

  The waiter came over and Clint ordered the same thing Hartman had.

  “Steak and eggs comin’ up, Mr. Adams,” the waiter said.
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  “Thanks, Ed.”

  Clint picked up the coffeepot, righted the cup on his side of the table, and poured it full. He drank some of the brew then topped off his mug.

  “Okay, Rick,” he said. “What’s on your mind? Must be something important for you to eat somebody else’s steak and eggs.”

  “Tarver.”

  Clint looked at Hartman over the rim of his coffee cup.

  “What about him?”

  “He’s out.”

  “Is it time, already?”

  “The word I got is he was let go early,” Hartman said. “Good behavior.”

  Clint laughed. “Good behavior,” he said, shaking his head. “Jed Tarver?”

  “Sounds funny, all right.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “That I don’t know,” Hartman said.

  “Tell me what you do know, Rick.”

  Ed came back at that point with Clint’s breakfast, set the plate down in front of him with a basket of fresh biscuits and some butter.

  “Thanks, Ed.”

  “Sure, Mr. Adams.”

  “Okay,” Hartman said. “The Yuma guards saw three men waiting for Tarver when he got out. They said he was real friendly with one of them. The other two sort of stood by and watched the reunion. Any idea who that man would’ve been?”

  “Probably Bart Dexter,” Clint said. “They always rode together, like brothers.”

  “Dexter know you?”

  “He does.”

  “Tarver’s going to want to come after you, you know,” Hartman said. “He’s been waiting for this.”

  “I figured that all along,” Clint said. “I knew he’d come after me when he got out.”

  “What do you want to do about it?”

  “Not much, I guess,” Clint said. “What would you suggest?”

  “Maybe you should find him before he can find you,” Hartman said.

  “And what? Kill him?”

 

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