Showdown in Desperation

by J. R. Roberts

  • • •

  Jimmy Creed also noticed that there were no members of the posse on the street. That suited him. He ambled along the street, stopped to take a look inside the saloons. In one he saw the out-of-town sheriff and his deputies at the bar. Didn’t see any of the other posse members. Experience told him that they would probably be a bunch of storekeepers.

  He moved away from the saloon, since he didn’t want anything to do with this sheriff and his deputies. He was more concerned with the local lawman.

  He positioned himself across from the sheriff’s office, settled in to see what the activity there was like.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  “I think I need to get the boy away from his father,” Clint said. “He was pretty arrogant in El Legado, but now he seemed willing to let his old man do the talking.”

  “How will you get them away from each other?” Barrett asked.

  “They were having breakfast together, but that doesn’t mean they’re together all the time.” He stood up. “I’ll just go out and see what I can see.”

  “You think Jimmy will come after you?”

  “He might.”

  “Well,” Barrett said, “if he kills you, I’ll throw his ass in jail. How’s that?”

  “A big help,” Clint said. “See you later.”

  He left the office, looked up and down the street in front. Across the way he could see Jimmy Creed, watching him. Alone. Already the two Creeds had split up. All he had to do now was find Johnny alone.

  He pretended not to see Jimmy Creed, turned, and walked the other way.

  • • •

  Jimmy Creed knew Clint Adams had seen him. Who did the Gunsmith think he was fooling? A man like him saw everything around him.

  As the Gunsmith turned and walked in the other direction, Jimmy figured he’d be looking for Johnny. He smiled, thinking of his son sitting in their hotel room, safe and sound.

  He decided not to follow Adams. Instead, he crossed the street and headed for the saloon.

  • • •

  As Jimmy Creed went into the saloon, Johnny Creed came out of the hotel. In front of the hotel he stopped to have a look around, didn’t see his dad or the posse members.

  He did, however, see the Gunsmith. In fact, they almost walked into each other.

  “Just the man I was looking for,” Clint said.

  “You wanna step out into the street right now?” Johnny Creed demanded.

  “There’s that arrogance I saw in El Legado,” Clint said. “You mean you’d step into the street without your daddy? Or is he somewhere around here, waiting to shoot me in the back?”

  “I don’t need my father to take care of you, Adams,” Johnny replied.

  “Now, now,” Clint said, “if you kill me without him, he’s going to be real mad. And if you get killed without him, well . . . I guess he’ll be disappointed.” Clint made tsk, tsk sounds with his mouth. “That wouldn’t do.”

  “Whatayou want?”

  “I want you to come back to El Legado with me,” Clint said. “You killed Lanigan, not me.”

  “Prove it!”

  “That’s what I intend to do,” Clint said, “back in New Mexico.”

  Johnny’s hand hovered just above his gun.

  “Hold it!”

  They both heard the voice. Looked into the street to see who it was.

  Jimmy Creed mounted the boardwalk and got between Clint and his son.

  “Boy, I tol’ you to stay in the room!”

  “I don’t need ta hide from him, Pa,” Johnny complained. “Let me take ’im now.”

  “You ain’t ready to take him, Johnny,” Jimmy said.

  “Okay, not by myself,” Johnny said. “Let’s you and me do it right now, kill the Gunsmith.”

  “We ain’t killin’ anybody unless I say so,” Jimmy said. He looked at Clint. “Step back, Adams. This ain’t your moment to die.”

  “I think you just saved your boy’s life, Jimmy,” Clint said.

  “I saved somebody’s life,” Jimmy said, “but the day ain’t over yet.”

  Jimmy grabbed his son by the shirt and pulled him away from Clint Adams.

  • • •

  Across the street, three members of the posse came walking along when one of them spotted Clint Adams.

  “There he is,” he said. “That’s Adams!”

  “Where’s the sheriff?” one of the others said, looking around.

  “Never mind the sheriff,” the first man said. “Let’s take him now.”

  “Just the three of us?” the third man asked doubtfully.

  “Three against one,” the first man, Webb Colton, said. He was one of the few members of the posse who was not a storekeeper. He worked at the Bar S Ranch, and was in town when the posse was formed. He volunteered to get away from ranch work for a while. “That’s odds we can work with.”

  Denny Williams was not a store owner, but he was a store clerk, working in the general store. At twenty he was tired of being a clerk, and thought riding with the posse would give him some experience at something else. Maybe, he’d thought, he could be considered for the deputy job the next time there was an opening. Now, maybe taking the Gunsmith in with Webb and the other man—Chris Curry, who owned the town’s hardware store—would get him that job.

  “Let’s do it,” Denny said.

  “Curry?” Webb asked.

  Curry was thirty-five, unmarried, and his store was hanging on by a thread.

  “Why not?”

  He asked.

  The three men stepped into the street and started across.

  THIRTY-NINE

  As the Creeds walked away, Clint noticed the three men crossing the street toward him. They didn’t wear any badges, but he felt sure these were three members of Cox’s posse.

  He turned to face them.

  • • •

  “I’ll do the talkin’,” Webb said as they walked.

  “Be my guest,” Denny Williams said.

  “This is your idea,” Chris Curry said. “You take the lead.”

  Webb was feeling very confident—perhaps overly so.

  As they reached Clint Adams, he turned to face them. Suddenly, Webb wasn’t so confident, but he soldiered on.

  “Clint Adams!” he said. “You’re under arrest!”

  • • •

  As the words came out of the man’s mouth, Clint noticed how nervous all three men were.

  “I don’t see any badges, gents.”

  “We don’t need no badges,” Webb said. “We’re part of the El Legado posse.”

  “You still need the badge part of the posse.”

  “Don’t worry,” Webb said, “we’ll take you to the sheriff. Just give up your gun.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Webb seemed confused. The other men began to fidget.

  “We outnumber you three to one, Adams.”

  “That may be,” Clint said, “but none of you know how to handle that gun you’re wearing. You’re all way out of your element here. And you’re volunteers. There’s nothing here worth dying for.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Webb said.

  “You’re tracking me because you think I killed somebody,” Clint said. “Why wouldn’t I kill you?”

  One of the other men took a step back, just managed to stop himself from running. Clint had no desire to draw down on any of these men.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Clint asked. “Just turn around, walk away, find the sheriff, and tell him you saw me. He’ll take it from there.”

  Webb licked his lips.

  “It’s the best choice,” Clint told Webb, knowing that he was the leader of these three.

  “Webb,” one of the other men—Curry—said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Webb said, “okay,
okay. We’ll do that.”

  “Smart man.”

  But Webb was feeling anything but smart as he and the other two posse members slunk away.

  Webb, Curry, and Denny Williams found Cox and the two deputies in a saloon.

  “Sheriff,” Webb said breathlessly, “we found Adams.”

  Cox turned to face the three men, who were all pale and breathless.

  “You braced him?”

  “Well—” Webb said.

  “It was Webb’s idea,” Curry said.

  “And you’re not dead?”

  “He let us go,” Williams said. “Told us to find you, and you’d decide what to do.”

  “He’s smart,” Cox said, “which I can’t say for you three morons. You’re lucky to be alive.” He turned to the bartender. “Give these three each a shot of whiskey.”

  The three men accepted their drinks and tossed them down. They all seemed relieved.

  “I thought I could count on you men—and the others—not to do anything stupid,” Cox said, “but obviously I was wrong. So now I want you three to go out and find the others, and warn them not to do a thing if they see Adams. Got it?”

  “We got it, Sheriff,” Williams said.

  “And don’t anybody get brave!”

  “Don’t worry,” Curry said. “We ain’t gettin’ brave again.”

  “Then get out of here!”

  The three men headed for the door.

  “Wait!”

  They all stopped.

  “Before you leave, tell me where you saw Adams . . .”

  FORTY

  Clint decided not to wait for Cox to show up.

  As the three posse members walked off, he turned and went in the other direction. The way things stood, the town was a powder keg. He had to decide what he was going to do, and do it today.

  He wanted to consider it over coffee.

  • • •

  “What do we do, Sheriff?” Deputy Teller asked.

  Cox rubbed his hand over his face, then looked at the two deputies.

  “We’re going to take Adams in.”

  “What about the local sheriff?” Toarke asked.

  “Once we have Adams in custody, he’ll fall into line,” Cox predicted.

  “You sure?” Teller asked.

  “No,” Cox said, “but we’ve got to do this before somebody gets killed.”

  “You think somebody else in the posse’s gonna get brave?” Teller asked.

  “I didn’t think so,” Cox said, “but those three proved me wrong.”

  “So how do we go about this?” Toarke asked.

  “We’re going to walk right up to him and take him.”

  “And he’ll let us?”

  “He won’t kill one of us.”

  “What makes you say that?” Teller asked.

  “Because we’re lawmen.”

  “He’s got a reputation,” Teller said. “He kills men.”

  “He killed that gambler,” Toarke said. “What makes you think he won’t kill us?”

  Cox regarded the two men, then said, “Grab your beers and let’s sit down.”

  The three of them carried their drinks to a table.

  • • •

  Clint went into a café and ordered a pot of coffee.

  “A whole pot?” the waiter asked.

  “A whole pot,” Clint said, “and strong.”

  “Okay.”

  Over the coffee he tried to work out a plan. He had to try to get through this without killing anyone—especially not a lawman. But he doubted that the Creeds—either one of them—would allow him to get his way without using his gun.

  “Hey,” he said to the waiter.

  “Yeah?”

  “Another pot?”

  “You like coffee that much?”

  “I need it to think.”

  “Most men need whiskey to think.”

  “Most men need whiskey not to think,” Clint said. “I’ll take coffee.”

  “Okay,” the waiter said, “comin’ up.”

  • • •

  “I don’t necessarily think Adams killed Lanigan.”

  “Then why did we ride all this way?” Teller asked.

  “I told him not to leave town,” Cox said. “I was still investigating the murder, and I needed him to stay in town. He didn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to stay in town and solve the murder?” Toarke asked.

  “Look,” Cox said, “it was either Adams or Johnny Creed.”

  “Creed?” Teller asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Johnny Creed left town,” Toarke said. “We know that.”

  “Well, they’re here,” Cox said.

  “Who’s here?” Teller asked

  “The Creeds.”

  “Both of them?” Toarke asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How’d that happen?” Teller asked.

  “Adams tracked Creed, and Johnny Creed found his father, Jimmy,” Cox said. “And we tracked Adams.”

  “So?” Teller asked.

  “We all ended up here.”

  Toarke frowned.

  “Sheriff,” he said, “are we here for Adams, or Johnny Creed?”

  Cox looked at Toarke.

  “You know, Hal,” Sheriff Cox said, “there may be some hope for you yet.”

  “Wait a minute,” Deputy Teller said, just a step behind the younger deputy. “We tracked Clint Adams because he was tracking Johnny Creed?”

  “You, too?” Cox said. “You’re both smarter than I thought you were.”

  “Come on, Sheriff,” Toarke said. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “It’s true I want Adams for leaving town,” Cox said, “But I want Johnny for killing Lanigan.”

  “But . . . can you prove he did it?” Teller asked.

  “Probably not,” Cox said, “but maybe Clint Adams can.”

  “How do we find out?” Teller asked.

  “We ask him.”

  • • •

  Clint finished his second pot of coffee, but not before ordering a piece of pie. They didn’t have peach, so he took apple.

  By the time he finished, he had an idea that he hoped would work. He paid his check, and left the café.

  “Adams!”

  He turned, saw Sheriff Cox coming toward him, with his deputies.

  “Cox—”

  “Why don’t we go back inside and have some coffee.”

  “I just had two pots.”

  “Then another cup won’t kill you,” Cox said. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  FORTY-ONE

  Inside the café, the waiter asked, “More coffee?”

  “My friends have decided to join me,” Clint said. “Bring four cups.”

  “Sure.”

  Clint looked across the table at Cox.

  “What’s on your mind, Sheriff? I hope you’re not going to try to take me in. I didn’t kill Lanigan.”

  “I figured that.”

  “You fig—what?”

  “I said I figured Johnny killed him, but I couldn’t prove it,” Cox said. “Why do you think I asked you not to leave town?”

  “You asked—you told me not to leave town.”

  “So naturally, that meant you just had to leave town.”

  “I thought you were going to try to pin the murder on me.”

  “I’m an honest lawman, Adams,” Cox said.

  “I know that,” Clint said. “I didn’t mean—I meant I thought you thought I killed him.”

  “I knew it was possible,” Cox said, “but more likely that Johnny Creed did it. But I needed you to stay in town so I could prove it.”

  “Johnny left town,” Clint said,
“so I had to go after him.”

  “When I realized that, I figured if we tracked you, we’d find Johnny.”

  “And Jimmy,” Clint said.

  “Right,” Cox said, “they’re both here, but we only want Johnny.”

  “Jimmy’s not going to let him go,” Clint said.

  “That’s where you come in,” Cox said.

  “You’ve got a whole posse behind you.”

  “You met three members of my posse,” Cox said. “Yeah, I thought I’d need to show some numbers to young Johnny to get him to come back, but I still need to prove he did the killing.”

  “So prove it.”

  “I need you for that,” Cox said.

  “Did you tell any of this to Sheriff Barrett?”

  “No,” Cox said, “I didn’t know if I could trust him. Is he a friend of yours?”

  “We knew each other a while back—I wouldn’t call us friends. But I think we can trust him. Why don’t we go and talk to him?”

  “Well, okay,” Cox said.

  “Hey,” Teller said, “I thought we were gonna have some pie.”

  Cox looked at his two deputies.

  “You boys stay here and have your pie,” he said. “We’ll go and talk to the sheriff.” He and Clint stood up. “Don’t leave here ’til I get back.”

  “Sure, Sheriff,” Teller said.

  • • •

  As Clint and Cox entered the sheriff’s office, Barrett looked up at them in surprise.

  “I didn’t expect to see the two of you together,” he said.

  “We came to an understanding,” Cox said.

  “That’s so?” Barrett asked.

  “Apparently,” Clint said, “Sheriff Cox figured Johnny Creed for the killing all along.”

  “Then why was he tracking you from New Mexico to here?” Barrett asked.

  “Because I was tracking Johnny.”

  Barrett frowned and said, “That makes sense . . . I guess.” He sat back in his chair. “So you brought your little circus to my town. How do you expect to bring this show to an end?”

  “By proving Johnny did the killing,” Cox said.

  “How do you figure to do that?”

  “He expects me to do it,” Clint said.

  “With or without gunplay?” Barrett asked.

  “That’s up to Jimmy and Johnny, I guess,” Clint said.