by JR Roberts
“Got it,” Erskine said, and followed the other two out the door.
Chapter Forty-Three
Clint waited impatiently in his room for Brenda to arrive with some information. He was thinking about getting out and checking on Gator when there was a knock. He answered it with a hand on his gun.
“Let me in,” Brenda said, “quickly.”
He opened the door wide, let her, closed and locked it.
“I didn’t want anybody to see me,” Brenda said.
“Is somebody watching you?”
“That’s always a possibility with Albert,” she said.
“You call him Albert?”
“Well, not to his face.”
She went to the bed and sat down, removed her shoes.
“Do you have some information for me?” he asked.
“First things first,” she said, and yanked her dress down to her waist so that her big breasts bounced free. In spite of the situation he felt himself stir immediately. After all, sitting there that way, she was sex personified.
“Come here,” she said.
“Look, Brenda—” he said, moving close to her, but he stopped short when she reached out, grabbed his belt and yanked him to her. In moments his gunbelt was on the bed next to them, and his pants were down around his ankles. She had his hard cock in her hands and was lovingly stroking it.
“Oh, all right,” he said, pushing her down so she was lying on her back, “let’s do this ... ”
~*~
Erskine and Dooley walked Sinclair back to the saloon. They didn’t see Gator across the street, watching.
“Just wait inside until I come for you,” Erskine said.
“What about a hotel?” Sinclair asked.
“Dooley will take you over so you can register,” Erskine said, “but come right back.”
“Right.”
“And remember what I said about drinkin’,” Erskine reminded them. “Stay sober!”
“I always stay sober,” Sinclair told him. “It keeps my hand steady.”
“That’s good,” Erskine said, “that’s real good.”
~*~
Clint knew what Brenda wanted, and she was a tasty woman, so he got right to it. He knelt at the foot of the bed, grabbed her legs and pulled her to the edge so her legs hung over. He hiked up her dress to reveal that she was naked underneath—obviously knowing what she wanted, as well. He could only imagine what men would have thought of her walking down the street that way, not to mention the women in town.
He kissed her thighs, stroked her belly, lifted her legs to put them on his shoulders, then pressed his face to the fragrant nest of hair between her legs. She was already wet and waiting, so he licked the length of her moist slit before using his fingers to part the lips and apply his tongue. Her whole body jerked, as if she’d been struck by lightning, but then she moaned and reached down to hold his head there.
“Yes, oh yes,” she said, “I’ve been thinkin’ about this since last time.”
He withdrew and looked up at her, his face glistening with her juices.
“I guess Father Stoll doesn’t give you this, huh?”
“For all his women,” Brenda said, “Father Stoll is a prude. He does only one thing—rut until he squirts, and then go to sleep.”
“Well,” Clint said, “there’ll be no sleeping here, tonight,” and pressed his face to his task, again.
Before long there was a tremor in her belly, her muscles tightened, her back arched, and then she cried out as the waves of pleasure flowed over and over her.
Clint didn’t wait. He lifted her so she was completely on the mattress, then got on the bed with her, pressed the head of his cock to her moist pussy and glided right in while she was still convulsing ...
~*~
“Oooh-oooh! You do that so good!” she trilled, putting her hands above her head and stretching her body.
“I don’t know a man who could sleep with you in the bed, Brenda,” Clint said. “You’re too much woman for that.”
“Too much woman for Albert Stoll, that’s for sure,” she said. “that information you wanted?”
“Yes.”
“This feller Sinclair is here alone,” she told him. “Erskine seems to think he might be able to kill you, himself, without the others.”
“I see,” Clint said. “And how did you come by this information?”
“That was easy,” she said. “I just listened at the window.”
“Did you manage to find out anything else?”
“Yes,” she said, rolling over and sliding her hand down his belly to his crotch, “I found out that you can go again in minutes, can’t you?”
“Only with a woman like you,” he said.
“Don’t shit me, Clint,” she said, grabbing his already hardening cock, “just fuck me--again.”
~*~
Later, as she pulled her dress on, he said, “You had something else for me.”
“I’ve given you everything I have, Clint,” she said, smoothing the dress down in front. “Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, Stoll asked Erskine if he had ten men. The answer was yes.”
Clint started pulling his pants on.
“Brenda,” he said, ”you better stay off the streets the rest of today and tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I was planning to.”
“Will you stay at the compound?”
“Why not?” she asked. “If things go right you’ll take care of Stoll by tomorrow. After that we can all go wherever we want.”
“How many others are ready to leave?”
“Just a few,” she said. “He’s still got a tight hold on a lot of them.” She gave him a hard look. “Just make sure you take care of him, not the other way around.”
“That’s the plan.”
She went to the door, but as she opened it Clint said, “One more question.”
“What’s that?”
“Have you seen the mayor out there at the compound? Talking to Stoll?”
“Not usually,” she said, “but he did come by just recently.”
“So they know each other.”
“They know each other real good,” she said.
“Do you think they’re partners in this ... this Kingdom of Stoll’s?”
She turned to face him.
“Do you think this is a political move?”
“It might be.”
“Well, I’ll be—that sounds right to me, Clint. Mayor Cates is a real ambitious man. I was wondering why he was stepping aside for Stoll.”
“Because he’s backing him,” Clint said, standing up and grabbing his shirt.
“That makes all the sense in the world,” she said.
Chapter Forty-Four
Clint went out the front door with Brenda, and saw Gator coming.
“Thanks for the information, Brenda.”
She smiled. “Thanks for everythin’ else.”
She went off down the street as Gator reached Clint.
“What’ve you got?” Gator asked.
“Ten men, that’s what Erskine has. What about you?”
“They took Sinclair over to a cheap hotel and got him a room, but then him and the other men went back to the saloon.”
“And Erskine?”
“I don’t know where he went,” Gator said. “I could only follow Sinclair and the other man.”
“That’s okay.”
“So there could be nine men in that saloon right now.”
“Too many for us to take on,” Clint said. “I think Erskine is going to send Sinclair after me first.”
“Is he good?”
“Practically all the men in that family are good with a gun,” Clint said. “And he’s one of Dick’s sons, so he’s bound to be very good.”
“Good enough to take you?”
“It’s possible, I guess,” Clint said. “It’s always possible I’ll run into somebody faster than I am.”
“Well, let’s hope it’s not soon
,” Gator said.
~*~
Clint and Gator decided to have supper together, and include Father Paul and Tully. Clint figured there was safety in numbers. Ten men would think twice about attacking four, when they could attack one.
The found a busy restaurant and got a table near the back because the owner knew Father Paul, and was not a follower of Stoll.
Once they sat, had coffee and placed their orders—all steaks—Clint asked the priest, “How many followers do you still have?”
“I prefer to refer to them as parishioners,” Father Paul said, “or members of my flock. Stoll had followers.”
“Sorry.”
“A flock is different from what Stoll has?” Gator asked.
“Yes,” the priest said.
Gator shrugged. “Sounds the same to me.”
“Well, it isn’t,” Father Paul said.
“I’m just sayin’,” Gator commented.
“You’ve been to my church, Gator.”
“Yeah, but I ain’t in no flock, Father,” Gator said. “I mean a ‘flock,’ that means sheep.”
“Now listen—”
“Okay,” Clint said, “let’s put this discussion aside for another time. Like when we get your church reopened.”
“I’m for that,” Gator said.
Father Paul looked at him and said, “Thanks.”
Gator reached out and nudged the priest on the shoulder.
Tully sat through the whole conversation, his eyes darting around the room, nervously.”
“Nothing’s going to happen here, Tully,” Clint said.
“How do we know?”
“If there’s shooting in here, innocent people will get hurt. Stoll is not going to want to have to deal with that.”
“How the hell do we know what Stoll will or won’t do?” Tully asked. “He’s a madman, isn’t he?”
“I might have thought that, too,” Clint said, “but now, not so much.”
“Why?” Father Paul asked. “What’s changed?”
The steaks came and Clint waited for the waiter to lay them out before answering the priest’s question.
“I’m thinking about politics,” he said.
“What’s this got to do with politics?” Gator asked.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why an ambitious politician like your mayor would roll over for a charlatan like Stoll?”
“I don’t understand,” Father Paul said.
“I do,” Tully said. “Clint thinks the mayor and Stoll are working together.”
“But why?” Gator asked. “What’s he got to gain?”
“I don’t know,” Clint said. “I just started to think about this. Brenda told me she saw the mayor out at the compound recently, talking with Stoll.”
“Those two, together?” Father Paul said. “You know, I never liked Cates. Didn’t vote for him.”
“Neither did I,” Gator admitted.
“Then we might just be able to kill two birds with one stone,” Clint said.
“Or a whole lot of lead,” Tully added.
Chapter Forty-Five
After they finished eating they left the restaurant together.
“I’m going back to my church,” Father Paul said. “If you need me, that’s where I’ll be.”
“Okay, Father,” Clint said.
“He’s not gonna be much good without a gun,” Gator observed.
“He might be able to do something after the fact,” Clint said.
“Like what?” Tully asked.
“Like pull the people together,” Clint said. “Give them someplace to go when they realize Stoll’s a phony.”
“Before that happens,” Gator said, “we’ve got ten disciples to handle.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Clint said. “Why let them call the play?”
“Whatayou mean?” Gator asked.
“I mean, take the fight to them.”
“Ten men?” Tully said.
“No,” Clint said, “let’s cut them from the herd, take them one, two, maybe three at a time.”
“How do we do that?” Gator asked.
“First,” Clint said, “I’ll have to deal with Sinclair.”
“Alone?” Gator asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Clint said. “Just me and him. I’m going to have him meet me in front of the undertaker’s office.”
“That sounds fitting,” Tully said.
“What about the mayor?” Gator asked.
“I can talk to him, too.”
“I can do that,” Gator said. “I’d love to take him down a peg or three. Let him know whatever plan he has ain’t gonna work.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “you talk to the mayor, and I’ll approach Sinclair.”
“And what do I do?” Tully asked.
“Stay out of sight for a while,” Clint said. “Let me see if I can get Sinclair to leave town.”
“You’re not going to kill him?” Tully asked.
“Not if I don’t have to.”
“I’m gonna see the mayor now,” Gator said. “I’ll find you later.”
“Follow the sound of the shots,” Tully suggested, as Gator moved off.
Tully looked at Clint. “You really think you can get their gunman to leave?”
“You never know,” Clint said. “Some people can be talked to, made to understand that they’re making bad choices.”
“You do remember you killed his father, right?”
“I remember.”
“Okay,” Tully said, with a shrug. “Where do you suggest I go to stay out of sight?”
“Go to your house,” Clint said “We’ll meet there.”
“And if you don’t show up?” Tully asked. “Do I assume you’re dead?”
“I’ll show up, Tully,” Clint said. “Don’t worry.”
~*~
Clint walked to the boarded up building that housed the saloon Stoll’s disciples were in and pounded on the door. When there was no answer he did it again. Finally he heard the door unlock and it swung open. A big man peered out at him, middle-aged, wearing a bartender’s apron.
“Can I help ya?”
“Yeah,” Clint said. “I need to speak to Earl Sinclair.”
“Who?”
“Come on, I know he’s inside with the rest.”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “tell Sinclair Clint Adams was here. Tell him to meet me in front of the undertaker’s.”
“The undertaker?”
“That’s right. And tell him to do it today.”
“But wait,” the man said, “I don’t know—”
“Yeah, yeah,’ Clint said, walking away, “you don’t know. Just tell him!”
~*~
The bartender backed into the building and pulled the door closed, locking it. He turned to look at Sinclair, who was standing at the bar.
“You hear him?”
“I heard him.”
“What’re you gonna do?” Miller asked.
“I’m gonna go and see him,” Sinclair said.
“But Erskine told us to stay here,” Brent said.
“Yeah,” Grey said, “we can’t go with you.”
“I don’t want you to.” He tossed off the whiskey he was holding and put the shot glass down on the bar. “Just wait here. I’ll be back.”
“And if you ain’t,” Miller said, “what are we supposed to tell Erskine?”
“And Mr. Stoll?” Grey asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sinclair said. “I’ll be back.”
He went to the door and let himself out. The bartender had to lock it, again.
“He’s crazy,” he said. “Adams is the Gunsmith.”
“Maybe we oughtta do somethin’,” Miller said.
“Like what?” Brent said. “Go against Erskine’s orders?”
“What about you, Dooley?” Grey asked. “I mean, he’s your cousin.”
“He always was a little crazy,�
�� Dooley said. “I ain’t goin’ out there with him, not to see the Gunsmith. I’m stayin’ right here with you guys.”
They all exchanged glances, all nine of them and then it was Miller, who said, “Well, I guess he’s on his own, then.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Clint knew that the undertaker’s office was right across the street from Winslow’s Town Hall. He wasn’t sure the mayor had a window overlooking the street, but it was a good bet that he did. Most of these politicians liked to look down over their little fiefdoms.
He grabbed an old wooden chair from in front of another store and pulled it over, sat down in front of the undertaker’s office to await the arrival of Earl Sinclair.
~*~
It was Cahill who changed their minds.
“Okay,” he said, I’ll say it. We shouldn’t let Sinclair go out there alone.”
“We already did,” Grey said. “We’re probably too late.”
“I agree with Cahill,” a man named Kirk said. “We should go out there and help him ... if it’s not too late.”
“Somebody should tell Erskine,” Miller added, “so he can tell Stoll.”
“All right, then,” Miller said. “Let’s go.”
“Dooley,” Cahill said, “why don’t you find Erskine and let him know what’s happenin’?”
“Yeah, okay,” Dooley said. Even though Sinclair was his cousin, he really didn’t want to get involved in a shootout between him and the Gunsmith.
“Let’s go!” Cahill said, heading for the door.
~*~
Tully was growing impatient.
And he didn’t like the idea of just sitting in his house while Clint and Gator were actually taking action. He decided to go to Father Paul, tell him what was going on, and maybe they could decide what they should be doing, as well.
He grabbed his hat, tucked the gun into his belt, and left the house.
~*~
Gator entered the City Hall building, made his way up to the second floor, where the mayor’s office was. He hadn’t remembered that the undertaker’s was right across the street, but thought it was fitting. All he had to do was get the mayor to look out his window.
The mayor had an empty outer office, as he did not have a secretary. The one he had was now living in the compound with Stoll and his people. So he went right to the man’s door, opened it and walked in.
