The Gunsmith 424

by JR Roberts

  “I will, too,” Father Paul said.

  “Okay, good,” Clint said. “Now let’s walk back to town separately, and not be seen together unless we’ve got something solid.”

  “I’ll go first,” Gator said. “Maybe I can find somethin’ out today.”

  “Good.”

  As Gator left the house Clint said, “Father, you go next.”

  “All right.”

  After the priest left Tully asked, “Is Father Paul going to carry a gun?”

  “No,” Clint said, “he can’t do that.”

  “Well, I can. I’m not leaving this house without a gun.”

  “That’s fine,” Clint said, “but don’t use it unless your life depends on it, or if I tell you to. You got that?”

  “I got it.”

  “Do you feel well enough to go out?”

  “Yes,” Tully said. “I have a headache, but I’m okay.”

  “I’m going to leave, then,” Clint said. ”Give me a few minutes, and then head out.”

  “Okay.”

  Tully looked nervous. Clint hesitated before leaving, wanting to make sure the young man’s head was in the right place.

  “Look, Lewis, it’s okay to be scared.”

  “Good,” Tully said, “because I am.”

  “Just don’t overreact.”

  “I’ll try not to,” Tully said. “I mean, I’ll try my best, but I’m not getting beat up, or hit on the head, again.”

  “That’s fine,” Clint said.

  “And what about Sheriff Gaines?” Tully asked. “Is he on our side?”

  “Actually,” Clint said, “I don’t know who’s side he’s on, and that’s part of the problem.”

  “What is, exactly?”

  Clint walked to the door, looked back at Tully and said, “He doesn’t know what side he’s on, either.”

  Chapter Forty

  As Clint walked back to town from Tully’s house he couldn’t believe his luck. Walking down the street, were Stoll’s man Erskine, and one of his disciples. Clint immediately got close to the buildings he was walking by, and followed them. There were other people on the street, which made it a little easier on him, and while they seemed to notice him, Erskine didn’t.

  The two men cut down a side street, walking with purpose, not looking behind them, at al. Erskine had something on his mind. The other man was taking quick steps to keep up.

  Clint got to the corner, peered around, waited a few seconds to give them some space, then fell into place behind them. As they walked, the buildings in that part of town became older, in need of repair. Many of the shops were closed down and boarded up. Finally, they came to one that looked boarded up, knocked, and we were admitted. Clint waited several minutes after the door closed, then walked to it and pressed his ear against it. He could hear men’s voices inside, although he couldn’t tell what they were saying. But that didn’t matter, this had to be the place. He couldn’t believe his luck.

  He sensed a presence behind him, turned, his hand on his gun, but it was Gator. The man put his forefinger to his lips, and they both slipped away from the door.

  “What are you doing here?” Clint asked.

  “I got lucky,” Gator said, “and found somebody who tipped me to this place.

  “I got lucky, too,” Clint said. “I spotted Erskine and another man, and followed them here.”

  “Do we know what’s inside?” Gator asked.

  “We can guess,” Clint said. “I heard several male voices.”

  “You wanna break in there now?” Gator raised his shotgun.

  “No,” Clint said, “no point taking on ten men if we don’t have to.”

  “So we think all ten are inside?”

  “Who knows?” Clint asked. “Let’s wait here and see how many come back out.”

  “And then?”

  “If a bunch come out, there won’t be ten inside. We can break in and take care of maybe half of them at one time.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Gator said. “You want me to go and get the others?”

  “No,” Clint said, “Father Paul won’t be any good in this situation, and I’m not sure Tully will, either.”

  “The kid’s got a mad on,” Gator observed.

  “Which may be a good reason not to have him here,” Clint said. “Let’s just wait and see.”

  “Okay.”

  “Meanwhile,” Clint said, “tell me about this part of town.”

  ~*~

  Inside the building the men looked up as the bartender opened the door. Erskine slipped in with Dooley behind him, and the bartender closed and locked it.

  “Erskine,” Dooley said, “this is my cousin, Earl Sinclair.”

  Sinclair was sitting at a table by himself, with a bottle of whiskey. The others in the room were grouped together, away from him.

  “Otis said you asked for me,” Sinclair said. “Why would you do that? I don’t know you.”

  “Otis?” somebody said, looking at Dooley, but nobody picked it up.

  “But you came,” Erskine said.

  “He says there’s a lot of money in it for me.”

  “There is,” Erskine said. “I’ve heard of you, and your family. Only I heard you were the fastest.”

  “There’s some argument about that in the family,” Sinclair said. “Some say my brother, Henry, is faster.” He shrugged. “He’s older, so I let him think what he wants to think.”

  Erskine looked at Dooley.

  “Henry ain’t around,” he said. “I brought Earl.”

  “What’s the job?” Sinclair asked.

  “We have to kill a man.”

  “We?”

  “All of us,” Erskine said.

  Sinclair looked around, counting.

  “Ten men to kill one?” he asked. “Who it is? The ghost of Wild Bill Hickok? Or Ben Thompson?”

  Erskine shook his head. “Clint Adams, and believe me, he ain’t no ghost.”

  Earl Sinclair fell silent, then said, “The Gunsmith.” He took a drink of whiskey, poured himself another glass. “It’s gonna be expensive.”

  “I figured as much,” Erskine said, “but you get first crack at ’im.”

  “Still expensive.”

  “Sure,” Erskine said, thinking, if you live to collect.

  “Is he in town already?” Sinclair asked.

  “He is.”

  “And what about this holy guy? What’s his name?” He looked at Dooley.

  “Stoll.”

  “Yeah, him,” Sinclair said. “What does he think of this?”

  Erskine grinned rightly.

  “It’s his money that’s gonna be payin’ you.”

  “Well now,” Sinclair said, laughing, “that’s real interestin’.” He had another drink, poured again. “You mean to say we got God on our side?”

  That made Erskine laugh.

  “I guess you could say that,” he answered.

  “Well then,” Sinclair said, holding up his bottle, “let’s have a drink on it.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Clint and Gator took up positions across the street, in the darkened doorway of another boarded up store. Gator told him that the town had intended to fix all these buildings so they could be rented and reopened, but those plans went by the wayside when Stoll took control.

  “So tell me about the mayor,” Clint said. “What’s he like?”

  “Like a politician,” Gator said.

  “And what’s his opinion of Stoll?”

  “Well, he hasn’t taken any steps to get rid of him,” Gator said.

  “Have you ever seen them together?”

  “No.”

  “Not once?”

  “No.”

  “And the town council?”

  “They’re always influenced by the mayor,” Gator said, “Now they seem to have gone over to Stoll.”

  “You know,” Clint said, “I haven’t thought about the mayor since he came to me and tried to warn me off.”


  “He did that?”

  “Told me to get out of town.”

  “That’s odd,” Gator said. “That doesn’t sound like a move Ed Cates would make.”

  “Maybe,” Clint said, “it’s time for me to talk to him, again.”

  “The door’s openin’,” Gator warned.

  They backed into their doorway even more, and watched.

  ~*~

  Erskine had a drink with Sinclair while the other men remained grouped together, except for one or two at the bar.

  “So when do we start?” Sinclair asked.

  “You should come with me now, meet Stoll,” Erskine said. “Dooley, you come along, too.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “And the rest of us?” Miller asked.

  “Stay here,” Erskine said, “and stay sober.”

  “Yer askin’ a lot,” Brent said. “If we’re just sittin’ here waitin’, what else are we supposed to do but drink?”

  “Play cards,” Erskine said.

  “Can we bring some women in here?” Grey asked. “That would help us pass the time.”

  The other men shouted their agreement at that.

  “Just settle down!” Erskine shouted. “If you wanna make the money we talked about, you gotta do what I say. Now just relax, play some poker, and be ready. We’re real close.”

  “You said Sinclair gets first shot,” Miller said. “If he kills Adams, where does that leave the rest of us?”

  “Everybody gets paid,” Erskine said. “I guarantee it. Let’s go, Sinclair.”

  The bartender unlocked the door again and let the three men out.

  ~*~

  “Three of ’em,” Gator said. ”That means there may be seven of ’em inside.”

  Clint didn’t answer. He was looking at the third man.

  “Adams?”

  “You know that third man?”

  Gator looked. The man was tall, slender, in his thirties, wearing a black hat, black vest, and wearing his gun low on his hip.

  “No,” he said. “Do you?”

  “I think ... he looks like a Sinclair.”

  “Sinclair?” Gator asked. “The gunfighter family? How many of ’em are there?”

  “Who knows?” Clint asked. “You count second and third cousins, There could be dozens of them.”

  “More inside, maybe?” Gator asked.

  “I don’t know,” Clint said, “but that makes it too chancy to go in. Not until we know more.”

  “So what do we do?”

  The three men started off up the street, the way they had come from.

  “I bet they’re taking him to meet Stoll,” Clint said. “I say we follow them, again.”

  “All the way into the compound?”

  “As far as the compound, anyway.” Clint said. “I think I may have a friend inside who can get us some information.”

  “A friend?’

  “A lady.”

  “One of Stoll’s women?”

  “She’s one of his, but she’s got her own agenda, I think.”

  “You talkin’ about Brenda?” Gator asked.

  “That’s right,” Clint said. “Do you know her?”

  “Probably not the way you do,” Gator guessed.

  ~*~

  “What’s this place?” Sinclair asked, as they went through the gate.

  “Stoll calls it his compound.”

  “And what kind of place is it supposed to be?” the gunman asked. “Otis said it was a religion?”

  “Yeah,” Erskine said, “something he calls the Kingdom.”

  They were walking across the compound, and Brenda was coming the other way.

  “Well,” Sinclair said, as she smiled at him, “what’s her part in this religion?”

  “She’s one of Stoll’s women,” Erskine said. “Off the market, as far as we’re concerned.”

  “Too bad,” Sinclair said, turning to look after her.

  “This is where Stoll lives,” Erskine said. “Let’s hope he’s not busy with some of his wives.”

  “Wives?”

  “You’ll see,” Erskine said, and knocked.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  As Clint and Gator approached the compound Gator said, “I always wondered why there was a gate, when there are no walls.”

  “Might be symbolic,” Clint said.

  Gator frowned.

  “Walking through the gates into the Kingdom?”

  “Ah.”

  As they approached the gate, Clint saw just who he wanted to see, Brenda.

  “Well, hello,” she said. “I wondered when you’d come lookin’ for me.”

  “You’ve been expecting me?”

  “Well, of course.” She looked at the other man. “Hello, Gator.”

  “Brenda.”

  “Why are you two hangin’ around together?” she asked.

  “We have something in common,” Clint said.

  “What’s that?”

  “A deep and abiding dislike for snake oil salesmen,” Clint said.

  “Why do I have the feelin’ you’re not talkin’ about real snake oil?” she asked.

  “Brenda, I need a favor,” Clint said.

  “Name it.”

  “Just like that? It might get you in trouble.”

  “With Father?”

  He nodded.

  She sighed. “I’m about done with him and this place, anyway. I’m ready for Winslow to go back to the way it was. What do you need?”

  “The tall man who just came in with Stoll’s man,” Clint said.

  “Erskine?”

  “Yes, him. I need to know about the other man. His name is Sinclair.”

  “What do you need to know?”

  “Whether or not he’s here alone, without any of his brothers, cousins, or uncles.”

  “What about his father?” she asked, with a laugh.

  “He’s dead.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I killed him.”

  “Oh. Well, all right. Go back to your hotel. I’ll find out what I can and then come and see you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And I’m comin’ to see you,” she said, “understand?”

  He smiled. “I understand.”

  “Get out of here, you two, before somebody sees me talkin’ to you.”

  She turned and walked quickly toward Stoll’s house. Clint and Gator walked away from the compound.

  “You killed Sinclair’s father?”

  “Dick Sinclair,” Clint said. “yeah, years ago.”

  “Do you think this one knows?”

  “I think they all know.”

  “Have they ever come after you?”

  “No” Clint said, “I think they’re waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “The right time.”

  “Which is?”

  “When I’m older,” Clint said, “and slower.”

  ~*~

  When they got back to the center of town Clint and Gator split up.

  “I’m gonna go back to that saloon and keep my eye on it,” Gator said. “Maybe I can get a count.”

  “Good idea,” Clint said. “I’ll wait for Brenda at my hotel and see what she found out.”

  “What are we gonna do if there’s more than one Sinclair in town?” Gator asked.

  “I don’t know,” Clint said. “Why don’t we wait and see if that’s a problem we’re actually going to have.”

  “Yeah, right,” Gator said. “I’ll see you later at your hotel.”

  “Be careful,” Clint said. “Don’t let anybody see you.”

  “If they do,” Gator said, “they’ll get both barrels of this.” He held up his shotgun.

  “Just try to avoid it,” Clint said.

  “I got ya,” Gator said. “I’ll see you later.”

  ~*~

  Erskine introduced Sinclair to Father Stoll. Dooley stood respectfully off to one side.

  “This is the man we’ve been waiting for?” Stol
l asked.

  “This is him.”

  Stoll examined Sinclair critically.

  “What makes him so special?”

  Sinclair just stared at Stoll and allowed Erskine to answer the question.

  “He comes from a well known family of gunfighters,” the man said.

  Stoll didn’t know the name, but he took Erskine at his word. The man was more well versed in the West than Stoll was.

  “Are there any others coming?”

  “Don’t need any others,” Sinclair said, finally speaking up. “You have me.”

  “Is that right?” Stoll asked. “And you can kill the Gunsmith?”

  “I can.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’m destined to kill him.”

  “Why?”

  “He killed my father, years ago.”

  Stoll looked at Erskine.

  “The father of this vaunted gunfighter family?”

  “Yeah,” Sinclair said, “but we’re all faster than my father was. Me, my brothers, my cousins.”

  “That’s interesting,” Stoll said. He looked at Erskine. “When is this going to happen?”

  “As soon as possible,” Erskine said. “Tomorrow.”

  “And the rest of the disciples?”

  “They’ll be around, just in case.”

  Stoll was silent for a few moments, his head bowed, then he said, “All right. All right, then. I’ll leave you to it. Just let me know when it’s done.”

  “Yessir.”

  Erskine touched Sinclair’s arm to indicate the audience was over. The gunman and his cousin turned to leave, with Erskine behind them.

  “Erskine,” Stoll said.

  “Yeah?’

  “Stay a minute.”

  “Wait outside,” he told the other two.

  They walked out, one of Stoll’s wives closing the door behind them.

  “That other man, Dooley?” Stoll asked. “He’s a cousin, right? Is he also fast?”

  “No,” Erskine said, “that talent seemed to skip him.”

  “Pity. What about getting more of these Sinclair boys?”

  “They’re all over the country,” Erskine said. “We could probably do it, but it would take a while.”

  “But you have ten men,” Stoll confirmed.

  “Yes, with Sinclair we have ten.”

  “All right, forget about other Sinclairs, then,” Stoll said. “Just make sure the job gets done. I want the town to see what happens to those who don’t respect me.”