by JR Roberts
Now with her legs free she wrapped them around his waist and began to move with him, faster and faster, until she was scratching at his back as he emptied into her ...
Chapter Twenty-Five
Gaines sat at his desk and thought a while after Erskine left. They used to be friends, but then Erskine joined Stoll. Gaines, although he hadn’t joined, hadn’t opposed the man, either. But now that Clint Adams was in town, and intends to oppose him, maybe it was time for the lawman to start taking his badge seriously. That was why he’d gone to boot hill that morning, to do his job, for a change.
He decided that the best thing for him to do was to present himself to Adams as an ally, and see where things went from there.
He grabbed his hat, left his office and headed for the hotel.
~*~
“Okay,” she said, later, as they rested side-by-side, “now I’ve had a religious experience. Where did you learn to eat pussy like that? Most men wouldn’t even think of it.”
“Is that what you call it?” he asked. “Eating it? I like that.”
“Well, yeah,” she said, with feeling, “so did I, except it almost killed me!”
“I think it just made you come alive,” Clint said. “You’ve got to get away from that compound.”
“I know it,” she said, “but he won’t let me.”
“Stoll?”
She nodded.
“He doesn’t allow people to leave him once they’re inside,” she said.
“Is he afraid they’ll talk?” Clint asked. “Tell secrets?”
“Probably.”
“What would he say if he knew you were here with me?”
“He’d probably kill me.”
“Literally?”
“Well, no,” she said, “I didn’t mean really kill me ... but then, he did have poor Aggie strung up.”
“And what did she do to deserve that?” Clint asked. “Nobody’s told me that, yet.”
“She defied him,” Brenda said. “That’s all it took.”
“What about the tea lady?” he asked.
“Who?”
“Carol Holby, from the tea shop?” Clint asked. “She joined, and then left, didn’t she?”
“She was hardly there a day,” Brenda said. “I don’t know what it was about her, but Stoll approached her the first day about coming to his bed, and she bolted. “
“Without any taking any secrets.”
“Without anything,” Brenda said.
“And he let her go?”
“He thinks he’ll get her back,” Brenda said, sitting up and reaching for her dress. “Like he thinks eventually he’ll have the whole town.”
She stood up and pulled her dress on.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I have to get back before he notices I’m gone.”
He propped himself up on an elbow and watched her get the dress on straight.
“I’m going to get this town out from under him, Brenda,” Clint said. “Can I count on your support?”
She looked at him over her shoulder.
“I guess that depends on what you want me to do.”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I guess I’ll just have to let you know when the time comes.”
“Then I suppose I’ll have to make up my mind then, won’t I?” she asked.
She leaned on the bed, kissed him, then headed for the door. She opened it, turned and looked at him.
“You have to be careful,” she said. “He’ll send his disciples after you, led by a man named Erskine.”
“Erskine,” he repeated. “I’ll remember. What do you know about him?”
“Only that he used to be a friend of the sheriff’s,” she said. “In fact, he used to be the sheriff’s deputy, until he left to join Father Stoll.”
She peered out in the hall to make sure it was clear, then slipped out, closing the door gently behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sheriff Gaines was approaching the hotel when he saw a woman leave. He recognized her as Brenda, one of Stoll’s women. What had she been doing there?
He went inside, found the lobby empty except for the desk clerk. There was a restaurant in the hotel, so she could have come from there. Somehow he doubted it, but he thought he’d check.
“Did you see the woman who just left?” he asked the clerk.
“I sure did, Sheriff,” the young clerk said, with a big grin. “She was—”
“Where’d she come from? The restaurant?”
“No, sir,” the clerk sad. “She came down from upstairs.”
“What was she doin’ up there?”
“I don’t know, but-“
“But what?”
“She came in with Clint Adams,” the clerk said, then leaned in, lowered his voice and added, “he’s the Gunsmith.”
“I know who he is,” Gaines said. “What room is he in?”
“Number five,” the clerk said. “Do you think she was with him? That they were—”
Gaines cut him off by turning, leaving the desk and going up the stairs. He wasn’t interested in what the clerk thought they were doing.
~*~
Clint had cleaned up and gotten his trousers on by the time there was a knock on his door. He grabbed his gun and answered the door, still barefoot and bare-chested.
“You’re not gonna need that,” the sheriff said. “Mind if I come in?”
“Why not?” Clint backed up to let him enter, then walked to the bedpost to holster the gun. He saw the sheriff eyeing the wrinkled sheets.
“I saw one of Stoll’s women leaving as I got here,” the lawman said. “Was she here?”
“She was.”
“What was she doin’ here?”
“I was questioning her.”
Gaines looked at the bed, again.
“Did you find out anythin’ helpful?”
“She told me about a man named Erskine,” Clint said. “Apparently he used to be your deputy.”
“That’s right,” Gaines said. “He left me to join up with Stoll.”
“He’s the leader of Stoll’s disciples?”
“That’s right.”
“So he was there this morning?”
“Right up front.”
“He any good with a gun?”
“If you mean is he a fast draw artist, no,” Gaines said. “If you mean can he hit what he aims at, oh yeah. And he’s recruited some fast boys for Stoll’s disciples.”
Clint picked up his shirt, slipped it on and started to button it.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I think it’s time I picked a side,” the lawman said.
“I thought you did that pretty admirably this morning,” Clint commented.
“Well, I want to offer you my help,” Gaines said. “Whatever you wanna do to rid this town of Albert Stoll, I’ll back your play.”
“Well,” Clint said, “I’m not planning on killing him, if that’s what you think my play will be.”
“I pretty much don’t care,” Gaines said. “However you wanna play it.”
“Well, I went to see him today,” Clint said, “and told him I was planning to prove he was a phony, so I expect him to be sending some trouble my way.”
“That’s for sure,” Gaines said. “I had a visit from Erskine a little while ago.”
“What did he have to say?’
“He was feelin’ me out,” Gaines said, “seein’ which way I was gonna go.”
“And?”
“I didn’t give him much,” the sheriff said. “Just told him my plan was to see that you didn’t kill anyone and nobody killed you while you were in town.”
“How did he react to that?”
“He didn’t give me much, either,” Gaines admitted, “but I’m sure of one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s gonna come after you, and when he does, he’ll have more men backin’ his play than he had this mornin’.”
&
nbsp; “That’s about what I expected.”
“Well, when it happens, I’ll be there.”
“I appreciate that, Sheriff,” Clint said, “but I think for the time being you should keep your distance.”
“How’s that?”
“Let’s not tip your hand to Stoll that you’ve chosen a side,” Clint said. “I think we should keep that to ourselves for the time being.”
“Oh, I get it,” Gaines said. “Let it be a surprise to Stoll and Erskine.”
“Right.”
“Okay.”
Clint strapped on his gun.
“So what happened with the woman?” Gaines asked. “Did she give you anythin’ else?”
“Not much.”
“You think maybe Stoll sent her?” Gaines asked. “Maybe to see what she could find out?”
“That’s always a possibility,” Clint said.
“So what are your plans now?”
“Right now,” Clint said, “a meal. Not much else beyond that, tonight.”
“Then I guess I’ll make my regular rounds,” Gaines said. “You need me tonight, I’ll be around.”
“I appreciate it, Sheriff,” Clint said. “Now, maybe you should leave first.”
“Gotcha.”
“What’d you say to the clerk downstairs?”
“I asked for your room number,” the lawman said. “Didn’t say much else.”
“Well, maybe on the way out you could say something to him, maybe about warning me.”
“Just in case he’s got a big mouth,” Gaines said. “I understand.”
The lawman left. Clint walked to the window to look out at the street. He didn’t leave the room until he saw Sheriff Gaines crossing over to the other side. Then he left the room and went down to the lobby. He stopped at the desk.
“If anybody else stops in and is looking for my room, I’d appreciate it if you kept quiet.”
“Yessir!” the clerk said, nervously. “But ... he was the sheriff.”
“I get that,” Clint said, “but nobody else. Understand?”
“Yessir!”
“I don’t need to be hassled by anybody else.”
He turned and walked out.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Erskine knew of a small, unmarked saloon in town that still managed to serve beer and whiskey to the right kind of men. Men like him, and the other “disciples.”
He went to the door and knocked. It was opened by a big man wearing a dirty white apron.
“Hey, Dan,” he said, letting Erskine in. He quickly closed the door and locked it, then went back behind the bar.
Erskine saw that the disciples were there, either at the bar, or sitting at tables. He counted five. Only one was missing, a man named Dooley.
He went to the bar and said to the bartender, “Beer.”
“Comin’ up.”
“Where’s Dooley?” he asked, as the man gave him a beer.
“Ain’t seen him tonight.”
Erskine turned to the room.
“Anybody seen Dooley?”
“He’s with his woman,” Lyle Brent called back.
“You know where she lives?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Well,” Erskine said, “go and fetch him. Tell ’im I need him here.”
“Now?” Brent asked.
“No, in a week!” Erskine said. “Yeah, go now!”
“Okay, okay,” Brent said, standing up. “Don’t get sore.”
“What’s Dooley doin’ with a woman?” Andy Miller asked, laughing.
“She’s one Father Stoll don’t want,” Brent said.
The bartender let Brent out and relocked the door.
“Listen up!” Erskine yelled. “Sometime in the next few days, maybe more, we’re gonna be called on to take care of the Gunsmith.”
“I thought we was gonna do that this mornin’,” Miller said.
“Yeah, well, we almost did,” Erskine said, “but Father thinks it’ll take more men.”
“More than five?” Miller asked. “Hell, five men coulda handled Wild Bill Hickok.”
“Adams ain’t Hickok,” Darby Grey said. “I heard Adams has gunned five men more than once. Me, I’m glad we didn’t go for it this mornin’.”
“Well, it don’t matter what you think,” Erskine said to Miller, and then “Or what you think,” to Grey. The boss says get more men, so I’m getting’ more men.”
“That why you want Dooley?” Miller asked.
“Yeah,” Erskine said, “he knows some boys who wanna come in with us.”
“They better be good boys,” Grey said. “This is the Gunsmith we’re goin’ up against.”
“What are you, a big fan of his?” Miller asked.
“No,” Grey said, “I just know what we’re goin’ up against. You should know, too, but you’re too young and stupid.”
Miller, in his twenties, stood up so fast his chair fell over. He faced Grey, who was in his forties.
“What’d you say to me?”
“Siddown, Miller!” Erskine snapped. “Grey’s right, you are stupid if you underestimate Adams.”
Miller looked at Erskine.
“All the fast guns are gone,” he said, picking up his chair.
“Not this one,” Erskine said. “Just sit and relax, all of you. We ain’t about to start fightin’ among ourselves. We’re gonna need every gun we got for Adams. And there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?” Trevor Cahill asked.
“We may have to go up against the sheriff.”
“Gaines?” Miller asked. “But you were his deputy.”
“That’s right,” Erskine said. “I was, but not no more.”
“Why would we go up against him?” Cahill asked.
“Because he might just back Adams’ play.”
“Why would he do that?” Grey asked.
“I don’t know,” Erskine said. “Maybe he’s decided to start doin’ his job again. Maybe he’s decided he don’t like Stoll.”
“I like Stoll,” Miller said, “as long as he pays us. I don’t believe in any of his mumbo-jumbo, but he’s a smart man. He’s got most of the town believin’ him, and he’s got the women jumpin’ into his bed.”
“Ain’t left many females for the rest of us,” Cahill complained.
“Seems like Dooley found one,” Grey said.
“Yeah,” Miller said, “but she’s ugly!”
They all laughed.
“Hey,” Grey said, “sometimes a wet hole is just a wet hole.”
“If that’s what you believe,” Miller said, “then maybe you should fuck a sheep.”
More laughter.
“Me,” Miller went on, “I need a pretty woman.”
“Well,” Cahill said, “Stoll has sure corralled himself the pretty ones, ain’t he?”
“Maybe he’ll teach us some of what he’s doin’,” Grey said.
“I don’t need lessons from some old man,” Miller said. “I can get me a woman any time I want.”
“You?” Grey said. “You wouldn’t know what to do with a real woman. That Brenda would kill you.”
Now they all laughed, except Miller.
“Brenda?” he scoffed. “She’s way too old for me. Stoll’s got a coupla young ones he’s fuckin’. Now I could show them a thing or two they ain’t gettin’ from him.”
“Shut up about women already!” Erskine said. “You boys better start thinkin’ about nothin’ but how we’re gonna kill the Gunsmith.”
“Is that what Stoll wants?” Grey asked. “Adams dead? Or just out of town?”
“He ain’t said, yet, but we gotta be ready for whatever he wants.”
“I’ll be ready,” Miller said, touching his gun.
“Come on,” Erskine said, “I’m buyin’.”
With that, all the disciples made their way up to the bar.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Clint hadn’t eaten in the hotel restaurant yet, so he decided to give it a try. He
ordered beef stew, figuring that would be hard for any cook to do wrong. He was right. The stew was good, and he wiped up every last bit of it from the bowl with fresh biscuits they served him in a basket.
“Desert, sir?” the waiter asked.
“Do you have peach pie?”
“We have apple, and rhubarb.”
While peach was his favorite, he absolutely hated rhubarb. But apple was fine with him.
“I’ll have a slice of the apple, with more coffee.”
“Comin’ up, sir.”
He sat back and looked around. There were enough people in the restaurant that he knew they were more than just hotel guests. He wondered how many of these people were followers of Stoll’s. And if they were, why were they not in the compound?
It occurred to him that the compound was not large enough for Stoll to house most of the people in town. He had to have followers who weren’t living there. The compound was probably the place he built to keep his women, and some other male workers to make it look more legitimate.
While he was eating his pie he saw a well-dressed man enter the dining room, look around, and then start walking toward his table. Along the way he exchanged greetings and handshakes with people.
“Mr. Adams?”
“That’s right.”
“My name is Cates,” the man said. “I’m the Mayor of Winslow. Edward Cates.”
“Can I help you with something, Mayor?”
“Do you mind if I sit a moment?”
“Sure, why not?” Clint said. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, thank you.”
There was an extra cup on the table, so Clint poured from a pot the waiter had left. The Mayor, in his fifties, wearing an expensive suit and sporting a fresh haircut, picked up the cup and sipped.
“I understand you brought a body into town with you,” the mayor said.
“What’s right,” Clint said. “Aggie Kimball. She was hanging from a tree outside of town. Lynched, naked.”
“That was unfortunate,” the Mayor said, “but I understand you’ve been accusing Father Stoll of having something to do with it.”
“’Father’ Stoll?” Clint asked. “Even you’re a convert of his?”
“Mr. Stoll has brought about changes to this town, Mr. Adams,” the Mayor said, “changes for the better. We haven’t had much crime here since he’s come to town.”
