“It ain’t going to happen, Leo,” Clint said. “That’s it.”
Leo stared at Clint, then said, “I’ll show you!” and stormed out. On the way he almost bumped into another man who was coming in.
“Whoa!” the man said as Leo went by. “Who set fire to his britches?” he asked Clint.
“I turned him down for the job,” Clint said. “Are you here for that?”
“I am. Ed Wright sent me over.”
This man was slick and handsome, looked like a gambler. In fact, he dressed like one, with a dark suit and a tie. But he wore a gun on his hip, and it was well cared for.
“You know how to use that gun?”
“I do.”
“And a shotgun?”
“That, too.”
“Got one of your own?”
“I do.”
Clint sat back.
“You don’t say much, do you?”
“I generally let my actions do my talkin’,” the man said.
“What’s your name?”
“Mike Lukas.”
“Well, Mr. Lukas—”
“Mike,” the man said. “Just call me Mike. And you’re Clint Adams, right? The Gunsmith?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I’m interested in the job,” Lukas said, “whatever it is.”
Clint explained the job to him and told him what it paid.
“That’s okay with me.”
“You sure?” Clint asked. “You don’t look like a man who would work for five dollars a week.”
“Five dollars is a lot when you’ve got nothin’.”
“You gamble?”
“I do.”
“Poker?”
Lukas nodded and said, “And the cards haven’t been kind lately.”
“It happens sometimes.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you would know,” Lukas said. “Do I get the job?”
“Come back at four with your shotgun. We’ll see if the boss lady likes you.”
“Thanks a lot,” Lukas said. “I’ll be here.”
He turned and left. Moments later, Ed Wright came back in.
“I gotta get the bar ready,” he said. “You get the men you need?”
“All four you sent in,” Clint said. “But I’ve got to ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Did you approach all these men, or did one of them approach you?”
“Naw, I went to all of ’em,” Ed said. “You said you wanted the best men we could find. These were them.”
“Okay, then.”
“You hired all of ’em?”
“I did, but the boss will have to look them over.”
“She’s gonna like Mike Lukas.”
“I think you’re right,” Clint said, “but I hope she likes them all enough to let me hire them.”
Wright went around behind the bar and started to set up for the day. Clint wanted some more coffee, but he didn’t want to go into Brennan’s kitchen.
“I’ll be back in a while,” Clint said. “The men will all be here at four, if the boss asks.”
“Okay. Where ya goin’?”
“Just to get some coffee.”
“Brennan in a mood?”
“Brennan’s always in a mind, isn’t he?” Clint asked. “At least, that’s what I’ve been noticing.”
Ed Wright laughed hard and said, “You been noticing right.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Clint was drinking coffee, sitting at a table in an empty, nondescript-looking café, when Police Officer Brennan walked in. The young man stopped short when he saw Clint, then walked over to him.
“Hello, Officer Brennan,” Clint said. “Are you looking for me?”
“No, sir,” the young officer said, “this is just a coincidence. I came in to have some coffee.”
“Well then,” Clint said, “have a seat and join me.”
Brennan hesitated, then said, “Yes, well, all right . . . thank you.”
Brennan pulled out a chair and sat down. Clint called the waiter over and asked him to bring over another cup.
“Yes, sir,” the man said, “right away.”
As the waiter walked away, Brennan asked, “Can’t you get coffee over at the saloon?”
“I could,” Clint said, “but I’d have to ask your dad, and he’s not in a very good mood.”
“He’s hardly ever in a good mood,” Brennan said.
“Why is that?”
“Who knows?” Brennan said. “He’s an ornery old man.”
“So that sounds like you fellows don’t get along.”
“We haven’t for some time, and probably never will,” Brennan said.
The waiter came with the extra cup and filled it for the policeman.
“Thank you,” Brennan said.
“Yessir.”
The waiter withdrew.
“You mind if I ask you a few questions while you’re here?” Clint asked.
“Why not?” Brennan said. “I still have an hour before I go on duty.”
“What do you know about Big Jack Mackey?”
“What everyone knows,” Brennan said. “He’s a big man in Omaha, doesn’t like competition, has political ambitions.”
“Does he have guns in his employ?”
Brennan grinned. “What do you think? Don’t men like him always have guns? Haven’t you worked for men like him in the past?”
“We said I was going to ask you the questions,” Clint reminded him.
“Okay. So what do you really want to ask about him?”
“What lengths will he go to to get rid of Ashley’s Palace?”
“I don’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t do,” Brennan said. “Tomorrow night’s the party, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“And everyone in town who is anyone is invited,” the young policeman said.
“And you think he’ll try something then?”
“With everyone in town on hand? Not likely. He’ll be a perfect gentlemen, but he’ll be looking for any sign of weakness. If I was you, I’d advise the lady to be on her best behavior.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. What’s your chief’s relationship with Big Jack?”
“I told you,” Brennan said, “the man’s got political ambitions. He knows the mayor, the chief, the town council, everybody. And the chances are he’s got something on all of them. But you didn’t hear that from me, right?”
“Right,” Clint said.
“The word around town is you’re hiring guns,” Brennan said.
“We’re hiring men for a security detail,” Clint said. “Without guns, what good would they be?”
“What do you think Big Jack will do when he hears about it?”
“I don’t know,” Clint said, “but if the word is out, I guess he’s already heard. If not, he’ll see them tomorrow night at the party. Are you coming?”
“I’m not invited,” Brennan said, “but the chief will be there.”
“Maybe,” Clint said, “I should go and talk to Big Jack again before the party. Just let him know where I stand.”
“And where’s that?” Brennan said.
“Right between him and Ashley’s Palace.”
“Well,” Brennan said, standing up. “I just hope you’ve got somebody you trust watching your back. Thanks for the coffee.”
“Anytime.”
As Officer Brennan left the café, Clint looked down at the policeman’s cup and noticed he hadn’t even taken a sip of his coffee.
* * *
Big Jack Mackey looked up as the man entered his saloon.
“S
orry to interrupt your breakfast,” the man said.
“That’s okay,” Big Jack said. “It’s my second one. Sit down.”
The man sat.
“So what happened?”
“You were right,” the man said. “The bartender, Wright, came to me.”
“So you’re in?”
“I will be, right after the boss lady meets me.”
“When will that be?”
“We’re all supposed to meet there at four.”
“How many did Adams hire?”
“Four.”
“The bartender got a gun behind the bar?”
“You ever know a bartender who didn’t?” the man replied.
“And the old man?”
“He stays in the kitchen.”
“He’s the wild card in this business,” Big Jack said. “Anybody know about him?”
“His son should.”
“We might have to take care of him, but I’ll know more after the party tomorrow night.”
“You ain’t gonna do nothin’ until then?”
“No, and I don’t want you to either. Just settle back and watch until you hear from me.”
“Yessir.”
When the man didn’t leave, Big Jack asked, “Something else?”
“Well . . . you said something about . . . money?” the man said.
“Oh, yeah,” Big Jack said. He took an envelope from his pocket and passed it over. “This is just a down payment.”
The man looked impressed with the thickness of the envelope. He tucked it into his shirt.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now don’t do anything until you hear from me, understand?”
“Yessir.”
“Get out now.”
The man nodded, stood up, and left. Big Jack went back to his second breakfast, was almost finished with it when another man walked in.
“Have a seat, Pete,” he said.
Police Officer Pete Brennan sat down in the just vacated seat.
“You talk to Adams?”
“I did, sir.”
Big Jack sat back. “Tell me.”
TWENTY-SIX
Clint watched Pete Brennan come out of Big Jack’s and walk down the street. Suddenly he had to take everything the young man said and view it with suspicion.
He crossed the street and entered the saloon.
“We ain’t open yet!” the burly bartender said.
“It’s okay, Dan,” Big Jack said. “Mr. Adams is welcome.”
The bartender frowned, but remained silent.
“Have a seat, Mr. Adams. Coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Clint said. “I just had coffee with a friend of yours.”
“Is that a fact?” Big Jack asked. “Who?”
“That’s not important.” Clint sat down. “A little late for breakfast, isn’t it?”
“Actually,” Big Jack said, “I’m such an early riser I have two breakfasts. What can I do for you, Mr. Adams?”
“I thought since the word seems to have gone out on the street, I should come and see you.”
Big Jack wiped his mouth with a white cloth napkin, and sat back in his chair.
“Tell me what?”
“I’ve hired new security for the Palace,” Clint said. “I’m going to make sure nothing goes wrong.”
“What could go wrong?”
Clint shrugged. “Drunks, sore losers, maybe somebody trying to disrupt business.”
“To what end?”
“Forcing her out of business.”
“Now who’d want to do that?” Big Jack asked.
Clint leaned forward.
“Whoever would want to do it, I would advise against it,” he said. “Anybody who wants to force Ashley out of business will have to go through me.”
“You’re new here, Adams,” Big Jack said. “You’re seeing threats where they don’t exist. I’ll be at the opening party tomorrow night to wish Miss Burgoyne only the best.”
“I’ll be there, too, Mackey,” Clint said. “And I’ll have my eye on you.”
“That sounds like a threat, Mr. Adams,” Big Jack said. “Please be aware that I have many contacts in Omaha.”
“Good for you,” Clint said. “The only contact I have is me—and I depend on me very heavily.”
He stood up.
“I don’t appreciate that you came into my place to threaten me, Adams. I’m not impressed with your reputation.”
Clint looked over at the bar, where the bartender was standing still, watching him, his hands beneath the level of the bar.
“You got a shotgun under that bar?” he asked.
“That’s right.”
“You want to pull it out?”
The man didn’t answer.
“Dan? That your name?”
“That’s me.”
“You want to pull that shotgun, your boss dies first, then you.”
Slowly, Dan put his hands on top of the bar.
“Smart man.”
Clint looked at Big Jack. The man hadn’t moved. From what Clint could see of his suit, there was no gun beneath it.
“I didn’t come here to threaten you, Mackey,” Clint said. “Just to fill you in on the facts.”
“Well, you did that. You can leave now.”
“See you tomorrow night,” Clint said, and left.
* * *
“Mr. Mackey?” Dan said as Clint Adams left.
“You did the right thing, Dan,” Mackey said. “He would’ve killed us both.”
“Yessir.”
Big Jack looked at Dan, tossed his cloth napkin on top of the remains of his second breakfast.
“But he won’t get the chance again,” he said. “I promise you that.”
“Yessir.”
“Is your brother still around?”
“He is, sir.”
“Will he work for me?”
“If you pay him enough.”
“How’s he going to like the chance to go up against the Gunsmith?”
“He’ll like it,” Dan said, “but you’ll still have to pay him.”
“Oh, I’ll pay him,” Big Jack Mackey said. “I’ll pay him just fine.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
At four o’clock the Palace was open and serving drinks, so when each of the men came in, carrying a shotgun, Ed Wright told them, “Back room, boys.”
In the back room, Clint waited with Ashley, who was ready to look the four new men over.
The first to arrive was Gabe Falkner.
“Gabe, this is Miss Burgoyne, the owner.”
“Ma’am.”
“Hello, Gabe.”
“Can I see the shotgun?” Clint asked.
Falkner handed it over. It was an over-and-under with some age on it, but it had been cared for properly.
“Nice gun,” Clint said, handing it back. “Have a seat.”
The second man to arrive was Otto Gerald. He introduced Gerald to Ashley, who seemed a bit dubious about Clint’s choice. But she was prepared to back his decision as long as she didn’t violently disagree.
Otto’s shotgun was a side-by-side Greener of which Clint approved.
Third into the room Ben Atchison.
“I know you,” Ashley said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Atchison said. “I been in your place a time or two.”
“Pick up a shotgun off that table, Ben,” Clint said. “We’re waiting for the fourth man to arrive.”
They didn’t have long to wait. Mike Lukas walked in, seemed to know Atchison, but had to be introduced to Falkner and Otto. Then he introduced the gambler to Ashley, and saw that Ed was
correct. She did like the look of Lukas.
“Well,” she said then, “I’ll leave you gentlemen in Clint’s capable hands, and I’ll see you later tonight. Oh, and also tomorrow night at the party. You’re all invited.”
After she left, Clint said to them, “You may all be invited, but the fact is you’ll be working the party. You’ll make sure that nobody gets out of hand.”
“What do we do exactly?” Otto asked.
“You’ll all be at the party, but other than that, you’ll work in twos. I’ll decide how to pair you up later. Oh, and the shotguns. They’re for show mostly.”
“How’s that work?” Atchison asked.
“You let loose with a shotgun in a crowded saloon and a lot of innocent bystanders are going to get hurt. So if you have to shoot in a crowd, you use your handgun.”
“Then what do we do with the shotguns?” Otto Gerald asked.
“I’ll tell you when it’s time to use the shotguns,” Clint said. “Nobody uses one before I say. Got it?”
They all nodded, and Mike Lukas said, “We got it.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “now let’s go over the placement . . .”
* * *
Half an hour later they all came out of the back room and bellied up to the bar, holding their shotguns.
“Ed, beers for our new employees,” Clint said. “They get two a night. Keep track, and tell the other bartenders to keep track.”
“Gotcha.”
Wright set up beers for the four security men, and for Clint.
“Do we got to wear uniforms?” Atchison asked.
“No uniforms,” Clint said. “Just stay clean. You hear me, Ben?”
“I took a bath!” Atchison said.
“I know, and we all appreciate it. But get yourself some clean clothes, too.”
“New clothes? On five dollars a week?”
Clint grinned and said, “Cheap clean clothes.” He addressed all four men. “Atchison and Otto, back here at six. Lukas and Falkner, be here at midnight.”
“Got it,” Falkner said.
“Right,” Lukas said.
“Don’t come in here before,” Clint said, “and if you drink someplace else, don’t come to work drunk. Understand?”
They all nodded.
“Okay,” Clint said. “See you all later.”
He drank down half his beer, then turned and walked back to Ashley’s office.
The Omaha Palace Page 7
