“Well, I did see Jimmy Creed, like I said.”
“And?”
“I tried to get him into my bed,” she said, “but I think I scared him. Or he had just had a bad experience with some girl. Anyway, he said thanks, and left.”
“And went where?”
“As far as I know,” she said, “he went west.”
“And that’s all you know?”
“I’m sorry.”
She continued to manipulate his cock. Maybe she figured keeping a hold of him would keep him from being too disappointed, or leaving too soon.
“What’s west of here?” he asked.
“Desperation.”
“Big town?”
“Biggest around here,” she said. “It’s no Tombstone or Dodge City, but it’s got what most people need.”
“Well,” he said, “I hope it’s got what I need.”
“I got what you need,” she said as his cock grew in her hand, “and you’ve got what I need.”
“Miley—”
“Just lie still,” she said, mounting him, taking his hard cock into her pussy again, “this won’t take long . . .”
• • •
Clint left Miley’s house, mounted Eclipse, and headed west, toward Desperation. When he left the house, Miley was lying across the bed, trying to catch her breath again. Clint wondered how many other men besides him and Jimmy Creed she’d tried this with. Obviously, when she told him she hadn’t had sex in a long time, it was a lie. She was much too skilled for that to be true. He actually didn’t mind it, though. He did manage to get some information out of her.
Miley had told him she never saw young Johnny Creed. If the younger Creed had come anywhere near Tyler, he had apparently bypassed it.
He couldn’t pick up the trail he had been following all along. The ground around Tyler was hard-packed, and he was not an expert tracker. So what he had to do was just continue west and hope that one Creed or the other had stopped in Desperation—or had, at least, passed through.
THIRTY-ONE
Miley had been right about Desperation. It wasn’t a large town, but it was bigger than Tyler, and bigger than any of the other towns Clint had passed through recently.
And since he was now in Arizona and out of New Mexico, he decided to stop in on the sheriff of Desperation first thing.
He dismounted, left Eclipse with his reins on the ground, and entered the office.
The lawman behind the desk was a broad-shouldered, firm-jawed man in his forties. He looked up as Clint entered, sat back in his chair.
“What the hell . . .” he said.
“Sheriff, I’m—”
“I know who you are, Adams,” the man said. “My name is Wade Barrett. I was a deputy in a town called Lonesome, Wyoming.”
“I was in Lonesome once.”
“Right,” Barrett said. “That’s where I saw you.”
“You must have been pretty young,” Clint said. “It was a while ago.”
“I was,” Barrett said.
“How’d you find your way here?” Clint asked.
“That’s a long story,” Barrett said. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing in Desperation first?”
“I’m looking for one or two men.”
“One or two?”
“Well,” Clint said, “if I find one, I think I’ll find the other.”
“How’s that work?”
“Father and son.”
“Names?”
“Creed,” Clint said. “Jimmy and Johnny.”
“Jimmy’s here,” Barrett said. “He has been for a while.”
“Any trouble?”
“No,” the man said, “and he’s not wanted in Arizona.”
Apparently, Clint thought, neither was he since the lawman hadn’t said a word.
“No Johnny?”
“Not that I know of,” Barrett said.
“Maybe he hasn’t found his father yet.”
Barrett shrugged, said, “So what do you figure to do?”
“Wait,” Clint said.
“So you’re after the boy?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He may have killed a friend of mine.”
“May have?”
“I’ll have to ask him.”
“Where did this happen?”
“That really doesn’t matter right now,” Clint said.
“But not in Arizona?”
“No.”
Barrett said, “There’s some coffee on that stove. You want a mug?”
“I could use it.”
“Have a seat.”
Clint sat while the lawman poured two chipped white mugs full with coffee, handed Clint one, and sat down behind his desk with the other.
“You got any idea what could happen if you brace Jimmy Creed?” he asked.
“Believe me, Sheriff,” Clint said, “I do.”
“And the boy? Is he like his father?”
“From what I can see, and what I hear,” Clint said, “I would say he is.”
“Then it’s my guess you won’t want to have to face both of them at the same time.”
“I want to talk to the boy, see if I can get him to admit he killed my friend,” Clint said.
“And then what?”
“I guess I’ll have to decide that when the time comes.”
“You aren’t wearin’ tin,” Barrett said.
“No,” Clint said, “and I’m not hunting a bounty. This is very personal.” More so than he was letting on, since he also had to prove his own innocence.
“I’m gonna have to keep an eye on this situation, Mr. Adams,” Barrett said. “I can’t very well give you a free hand in this.”
“I get that.”
“And I’d suggest you don’t stay in the same hotel as Jimmy Creed,” Barrett said.
“That’s a good suggestion.”
“And keep a low profile.”
“That’s my plan.”
“You think you can do that?”
“I’m damn well going to try,” Clint said. “It would be real helpful if nobody else in town recognized me, like you did.”
“That might be the case,” Barrett said. “We don’t have a lot of well-traveled people in town.”
“Well,” Clint said, “just point me to the right hotel, and tell me where I can get a steak.”
“Livery’s at the end of the street,” Barrett said. “Might be smart to get your horse under cover.”
Clint stood up, put the still half-filled coffee mug down on the desk.
“Tell Chance, at the stable, that I sent you. He’ll keep his mouth shut.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
“And maybe you’ll let my wife make you a steak supper,” Barrett added. “Then we can talk some more about this and about Lonesome, Wyoming.”
“Sounds good.”
“See to your horse, and come back here. I’ll take you over to the hotel, and then to my house.”
Clint nodded, shook hands with the man, and left the office.
THIRTY-TWO
Jimmy told Johnny that it would make sense for him not to leave the hotel room.
“Why?” Johnny asked.
“Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Look, Johnny, you’re a smart boy,” Jimmy said. “Probably smarter than your old man. But what if Adams rides into town and just spots you on the street?”
“Then I’ll face him.”
“You’ll face him all right,” Jimmy said, “but you’ll do it when the situation favors you, not him.”
Reluctantly, Johnny agreed.
“What about you?”
“Adams won’t recognize me on the street,�
� Jimmy said.
“How did you know me?” Johnny asked. “You ain’t seen me in years.”
“Believe me,” Jimmy said, “I would’ve known you anywhere.”
“You don’t think Adams will recognize you as my father?” Johnny asked.
“I don’t think so,” Jimmy said, “but even if he does, what’s he gonna do? He’s got nothin’ against me, I got nothin’ against him. If he rides into town, me and him will have a talk.”
“What about the sheriff?” Johnny asked. “Do you know him?”
“I don’t,” Jimmy said, “but I know that he knows I’m in town. And I know he doesn’t know you’re in town. Let’s keep it that way for now.”
“So I gotta eat up here?” Johnny asked.
“I’ll bring you some good meals, don’t worry,” Jimmy said. “Hell, I’ll even bring you girls if you want. But if we’re gonna wait here for Adams to arrive, let’s make sure that when he does, we have the advantage. And we’ll have that advantage if he doesn’t know you’re here.”
“If he’s been trackin’ me, he’ll know what my horse’s tracks look like.”
“I’ll move your horse,” Jimmy said.
“And then what do we do if Adams doesn’t show up?” Johnny asked. “What if I’m wrong, and he ain’t after me?”
“If what you told me is true,” Jimmy said, “and what I’ve heard about Clint Adams is true, he’s on your trail, all right. It’ll probably only be a matter of days—maybe hours—before he rides in. And that’s if he hasn’t already arrived.”
“You think he’s here already?”
“I think he could be,” Jimmy said. “I’m gonna go out and take a look around town. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“And bring me some food,” Johnny said.
“You bet,” Jimmy said. “I’ll be back soon.”
• • •
That was that morning, before Clint arrived in town. But when Clint did ride into town, and stop in front of the sheriff’s office, Jimmy Creed was across the street. He didn’t know for sure if the rider was Clint Adams, but who else would ride right to the sheriff’s office?
He waited for a while and eventually the man came out and rode his big horse to the livery stable. Jimmy had already removed Johnny’s horse.
Jimmy stayed hidden in a doorway, watched as the man walked from the stable back to the sheriff’s office. He’d heard descriptions of Clint Adams—indeed, from his own son just that morning—and felt more and more convinced that this was the Gunsmith.
When the man went back into the sheriff’s office, Jimmy came out of his doorway and hurried to the hotel.
• • •
“You can see the sheriff’s office from here,” Jimmy told Johnny as they both went to the window. “Just watch, and let me know if the man is Clint Adams.”
“I told you what he looks like,” Johnny said, “and about his horse.”
“Yeah, you did,” Jimmy said, “but I just want you to confirm it, son. Keep an eye on that office door, and when he comes out, let me know it’s him.”
“Where are you gonna be?”
“Right here with you,” Jimmy said, slapping the boy on the back. “If it’s Adams, then we got plans to make.”
“Okay, Pa,” Johnny said, and he settled down to watch the sheriff’s office until the door opened.
THIRTY-THREE
Clint and Sheriff Wade Barrett came out of the sheriff’s office and walked a couple of blocks to the Mayberry Hotel.
“Jimmy Creed is stayin’ at the other hotel, the Desperation House,” Barrett said as they walked. “Fancy-soundin’ name, but both hotels are the same quality—which, frankly, isn’t very high.”
“I just need a bed,” Clint said.
“How did things go with Chance at the livery?”
“He said he’d take good care of my horse,” Clint replied.
“He will,” Barrett said. “Chance knows horses.”
They entered the hotel and approached the front desk. A sleepy-looking man in his thirties straightened his back when he saw the sheriff.
“What can I do for ya, Sheriff?”
“This is Mr. Adams,” Barrett said. “I want him to have a good room.”
“Sure thing, Sheriff,” the clerk said. “I can give him the best room in the house.”
“I just need a regular room,” Clint said, “preferably one overlooking the street.”
“Yes, sir,” the clerk said. “If you’ll just sign the register, please?”
Clint signed in. The clerk looked at the full name, and his surprise registered on his face.
“Here’s your key, sir.”
Clint shifted his saddlebags on his shoulder and accepted the key.
“Thanks.”
“Get yourself settled,” the sheriff said. “I’ll come and get you and take you to my place for a home-cooked meal.”
“Sounds great.”
“And then we’ll talk more about the Creeds,” Barrett said.
“Suits me,” Clint said. “See you later.”
He went up to his room as the sheriff left the hotel.
• • •
Johnny Creed turned from the window and looked at his father.
“It’s him.”
“You’re sure?”
“That’s the Gunsmith, Pa,” Johnny said.
“Good,” Jimmy said, “good. He’s here.” He took Johnny by the shoulders. “This is where you grow up, boy.”
“Are we gonna ambush him?”
Jimmy looked shocked.
“Shoot a man like Clint Adams in the back?” he said. “No, sir. He deserves better than that. We’re gonna shoot him fair and square, face-to-face.”
“We?”
“That’s right,” Jimmy said. “You and me, boy. Together.”
• • •
Clint walked to the window and looked out. If Jimmy Creed was in town, then this was probably where Johnny was headed. That was one way of thinking. But the other way was that Johnny was already there somewhere. Clint did not see how he could have arrived before the boy, after having been behind him all the way.
The Creeds were there.
He was sure of it.
• • •
Sheriff Wade Barrett entered his house on the edge of town. It came with the job, and he and his wife had been living there for two years.
“Why are you home so early?” his wife, Delores, asked. She was a short and stout woman who he loved with all his heart, and it helped that she was a great cook.
“We’re having a guest for supper.”
She stared at him. If looks could kill, he would have been dead in his tracks.
“You can’t come home now and tell me that,” she scolded him.
“You just said I was early.”
“You’re not that early.”
“You’ve got to make a great steak supper.”
“For who?”
“The Gunsmith.”
She was stunned for a moment, then said, “What?”
“You heard me,” Barrett said. “Clint Adams rode into town today.”
“And you invited him to supper?”
“I did.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why tonight? Why not tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night,” the sheriff said, “he might be in a cell . . . or dead.”
The look on her face softened, and then her hands went to her head.
“I have to fix my hair!”
• • •
Barrett entered the hotel lobby and walked to the front desk.
“Has anyone been in asking questions about Clint Adams?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“Are you tellin’ me the truth, Eddie?”
“Yessir, I am.”
Barrett went to the second floor and knocked on Clint’s door.
• • •
Clint answered the door with his gun belt on.
“You ready for steak?” Barrett asked.
“I am,” Clint said. “I hope your wife wasn’t too mad at you for springing me on her.”
“She was excited,” Barrett said.
“I’ll bet.”
“Come on,” Barrett said. We’ll get home early enough to have a drink first.”
• • •
As they left the hotel, both Johnny and Jimmy were watching from an alley across the street.
“It looks like he’s got the lawman on his side,” Johnny said.
“Once we kill the Gunsmith,” Jimmy said, “killin’ the lawman won’t be a problem.”
“Have you killed lawmen before, Pa?”
“When I had to,” Jimmy said. He put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. They die just like any other man.”
They watched as Barrett and Clint walked down the street together.
“Thick as thieves,” Jimmy said.
“We gonna follow ’em?”
“No,” Jimmy said, “we’re done for today. They’re probably gonna have some supper. We’ll let ’em.” Now he slapped his son on the back. “Let’s go have some supper of our own.”
“In our room?” Johnny asked.
“Nope,” Jimmy said. “You and me are goin’ to a restaurant, and then we’re goin’ to the whorehouse.”
“Sounds good to me, Pa,” Johnny said.
They waited until the lawman and the Gunsmith were out of sight before stepping from the alley.
THIRTY-FOUR
Delores Barrett knew she wasn’t a pretty woman. She also knew that her husband loved her. She did the best she could with her appearance, but her pride was in her cooking. She was determined that this would be the best steak dinner Clint Adams ever had.
• • •
As he entered the house, Clint said, “Wow, that smells good.”
The house was small, and Clint figured it had probably been supplied by the town. But there was a woman’s touch all over the inside, and the place was comfortable.
“Have a seat,” Barrett said. “I’ll tell Delores we’re here, and then we can have a whiskey.”
Showdown in Desperation Page 10
