Under a Turquoise Sky

by J. R. Roberts

  “I think I just may have to take you on the trail with me, Chance,” Clint said, accepting a cup of coffee. “This stuff is even better than mine.”

  “I’ll give your offer all the serious thought it deserves, Clint,” Chance said. “Are you interested in what I was gonna tell you last night?”

  Clint took a big swallow of coffee first, then said, “Yeah, sure. Whataya got?”

  “It’s about Ed Martin,” Chance said, and then relayed the story about Martin he’d gotten from Al, the bartender.

  “So Martin really shouldn’t be welcoming George here with open arms,” Clint said when Chance was done.

  “Or even worse.”

  “You know Martin,” Clint said. “Is he capable of hiring someone to kill George?”

  “I don’t know him all that well, but I think anybody’s capable of havin’ somebody murdered,” Chance said. “What’s it take, some money?”

  “And somebody who wants the job, but there are plenty of those types around.”

  “Like this fella Breckens?”

  “He should be here any time now,” Clint said. “Maybe we’ll find out something from him.”

  “How are we gonna do that?”

  “Easy,” Clint said. “We’ll just ask him.”

  “Why are we stopping here?” Kemp asked. “Ain’t the Blue Lady just up ahead?”

  “We’re gonna dismount here and you two are gonna wait,” Breckens said. “I gotta go in and talk to the man who’s payin’ me.”

  “Payin’ you?” Drake asked. “Ain’t he payin’ us?”

  “No,” Breckens said. “He’s payin’ me and I’m payin’ you. See the difference?”

  He dismounted, followed by the other two men.

  “Watch my horse.”

  “Okay,” Kemp said.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he said. “I don’t want you two to be seen.”

  “Okay,” Drake said. “We get it, Carl.”

  Breckens studied them for a few moments, wondering if the moment he was gone they’d hightail it over to Isaac Brown’s tent. Finally, he left.

  Ed Martin looked up from the desk when there was a knock at the back door. When he opened it and saw Carl Breckens, he flipped.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Martin demanded.

  “Relax,” Breckens said. “Nobody saw me. I just wanted to check and see if I still have a job.”

  “You do,” Martin said, “but only because I’d never find anyone else at such short notice.”

  “Okay, so you still want them dead.”

  “If you think you can get it done, Breckens. So far your record is not that good.”

  “Don’t you worry about my record,” Breckens said. “Just have the rest of my money ready!”

  “You do the job and you’ll get your money,” Martin said. “Now get away from here before somebody sees you.”

  “Next time you see me you’ll be payin’ me,” Breckens said.

  “I hope so,” Martin said, and he really did.

  THIRTY-NINE

  “Now you want us to go into camp?” Kemp asked.

  “Adams doesn’t know you,” Breckens said. “He’s never seen you, so you’ll be able to move around freely.”

  “I thought he ain’t never seen you either?” Drake asked.

  “Well, I ain’t sure about that,” Breckens said. “And maybe Edwards told him who I was and described me.”

  “Well, he coulda described us, too,” Jeff Kemp said. “Didja ever think of that?”

  “Just go into the camp of the Blue Lady,” Breckens said. “They got a tent that serves whiskey.”

  “I could use a whiskey,” Kemp said.

  “Me, too,” Drake said.

  “There ya go,” Breckens said. “So this is perfect for the two of you.”

  “And what do we do about Adams?” Kemp asked.

  “Just locate him,” Breckens said. “And see if you can locate Markstein, too.”

  “Who’s he?” Drake asked.

  “I told you, the man from the East who bought into the mine,” Breckens said. “He’s the one we need to get rid of.”

  “Not the Gunsmith?” Kemp asked.

  “Only if he gets in the way,” Breckens said. “Look, just drift in, have a few drinks—”

  “The saloon’ll be open this early?” Drake asked, surprised.

  “It’s not a saloon, just a tent, and yes, it’ll be open,” Breckens said. “Some of the miners work later, so they have to drink earlier. Isaac Brown knows that, so he serves liquor early.”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be a miner,” Drake said to Kemp.

  “Well, think about gettin’ a job after you finish this one,” Breckens said. “Just get goin’.”

  “What about you?” Kemp asked.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be around.”

  The two men mounted up and headed into the mining camp. Breckens looked after them, shaking his head. If he could just use them to attract the Gunsmith’s attention, he’d be able to take care of George Markstein and get the rest of his money from Ed Martin.

  Clint and Chance finished their coffee with some bacon and beans Chance still had left, and then doused their fire. There were other smells in the air, cooking from other fires in the area, and from the miner’s mess.

  “What about the tent?” Clint asked. “Do they ever serve food?”

  “They put out some hard-boiled eggs for the miners,” Chance said, “but that’s about it.”

  “Well,” Clint said, “I’m going to go over and see George.”

  “If he’s satisfied with his situation, will you be headin’ out?” Chance asked. “Back to Kingman?”

  “We’ve still got to deal with this fella Breckens and whoever he’s got with him,” Clint said.

  “Do you even know what he looks like?”

  “If he’s the man who was following us in town, I caught a glimpse of him once or twice,” Clint explained, “but mostly I just have Edwards’s description to work from.”

  “And the other two?”

  “I’ve got nothing on them.”

  “And it could be more than two, right?”

  “I don’t think Edwards was lying about that,” Clint said. “I think we’re looking for three men.”

  “So we go lookin’ for three riders.”

  “If Breckens has any kind of smarts,” Clint said, “he’ll send the other two in first, as a distraction.”

  “So we need to look for two men?”

  “No,” Clint said, “I need to look for two men, you need to stick by George—unless you want to face the two.”

  “I’ll take one and leave two to you,” Chance said. “You’ve got more experience.”

  “Okay then,” Clint said. “Let’s go and see George, and on the way you can tell me what a typical day up here is like.”

  “Well,” Chance said, “for one thing, you can drink any time up here…”

  Clint and Chance knocked on the door of the cabin that was serving as Markstein’s quarters. The man opened the door, looking haggard and anything but rested.

  “I didn’t sleep very well,” he confessed as he let them in. “I’m going to have to do something about getting a good mattress.”

  “What’s on your schedule for today, George?” Clint asked.

  “Well, breakfast first, and then I have to meet with Ed Martin and Joe English to discuss some business.”

  “Okay,” Clint said, “Buck is going to go with you today, until we’re sure that you’re safe.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m going to be the one who goes out and makes sure you’re safe.”

  FORTY

  Normally Clint would have been surprised to find a bunch of men drinking in a saloon before nine a.m. Buck Chance’s explanation kept that from being the case when he walked into the Tent. That, he’d discovered, was what everyone called Isaac Brown’s place. As he walked in, he recalled it being said that two men had opened the T
ent. Idly, he wondered who Brown’s partner was in the endeavor.

  “Ah, Mr. Adams,” Brown said, approaching Clint. “What can my humble establishment offer you? A drink, or perhaps some supplies?” He was still dressed the way Clint had seen him the night before—dark suit and a tie, expensive watch chain hanging from his vest—but it was a clean suit. Clint wondered how many of them he owned, and how hard they were to keep clean around the mines.

  “Do you serve coffee?”

  “Best in the area,” Brown said. “Come with me to the bar. I was just going to have a cup myself.”

  “No whiskey for you in the morning?”

  “I’m not a miner,” Brown said. “It’s still too early for me.”

  When they got to the bar, Brown told the bartender to bring them each a coffee. The three men standing at the bar and the four seated at the various tables were all miners, who looked Clint over curiously—either because they didn’t know who he was, or because they did. He wondered if any of them were from the Blue Lady.

  “So tell me, how much longer do you plan on staying around the mines?” Brown asked.

  “Not much longer,” Clint said. “Just until I’m sure George Markstein is safe up here.”

  “That word, safe, it’s very relative.”

  “Well, I meant safe from an impending threat,” Clint said. “What happens after I leave is out of my hands.”

  “So who do you think you’re keeping him safe from?”

  “I’m looking for three men,” Clint said. “Two will come in together, followed by the third awhile later.”

  “Why won’t they come in together?”

  “Because the first man will use the other two as bait.”

  “For what?”

  “Not what,” Clint said. “Who. Me.”

  “And how is it you know this?”

  “I don’t know it,” Clint said, “but it’s logical. It’s what I’d do.”

  “So you’re dealing with a smart man?”

  “More crafty than smart,” Clint said. “In fact, I don’t think he’s very smart at all.”

  “Well,” Brown said, “then I guess it’s a good thing you’re craftier.”

  “I’m going to hang around here awhile, Mr. Brown,” Clint said. “When they do ride in, there aren’t going to be many places they can go.”

  “First, please call me Isaac,” Brown said, “and second, I hope you’re not planning on killing anyone in my place.”

  “I’m not planning on killing anyone, period,” Clint said, “but it may not be my call.”

  “I understand. Well, I’m afraid I have some work to do. You stay around as long as you like.”

  “Thank you.”

  Brown carried his coffee to the back of the tent, where he went through a flap to a small office he had carved out for himself. Once there, he put his coffee cup down on his desk and left the tent by the back flap.

  Since it was not unusual for Brown to be seen walking through the camp, he made no pretense about where he was going. He made his way to the headquarters of the Blue Lady Mine and entered without knocking. He knew he’d find Ed Martin there, because the man rarely slept.

  “Must be somethin’ important to bring you over here, Isaac,” Ed Martin said.

  “Who the hell did you hire?” Brown demanded. “First Markstein was not supposed to even get here and then when he does he brings the Gunsmith with him.”

  “Relax,” Martin said. “The job will get done.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, right now Adams is over at my place waiting for your killer to arrive with his two friends. He’s got their every move figured out ahead of time, Ed.”

  Martin put down the blueprints he was holding and gave his full attention to his silent partner. Rather, it was he who was the silent partner. Everyone knew there were two men behind the Tent, but no one knew Martin was the second.

  “Tell me,” he said, “everything.”

  When Joe English woke, she was feeling pleasantly exhausted. Certain parts of her body were still tingling, and if she closed her eyes she could still feel Clint Adams’s hands and mouth on her. She shivered, then opened her eyes and shook off the feeling. It had been a wonderful night, one she’d been needing for a long time—so long, in fact, that she had actually found herself considering one of Isaac Brown’s many advances. In the end, though, she had been smart to hold out for someone like Clint Adams. No, actually, it was a good thing she had held out specifically for Clint Adams. The night with him should be enough to hold her until the time her urge became unbearable. Maybe she should just pick out one miner to be her regular lover, keep him on the job until she tired of him and then move on.

  No, talk about unsound business practices, that would be the unsoundest of all.

  She got up, washed herself and got dressed for breakfast.

  Now that she’d had sex, the next urge she was going to have to satisfy was for a long, hot bath.

  FORTY-ONE

  When Isaac Brown stopped talking, Ed Martin opened a desk drawer, took out a gun belt and strapped it on.

  “What are you doing?” Brown demanded.

  “We might have to take a hand in this ourselves, Isaac,” Martin said. “I suggest you put on your gun.”

  “Are you crazy?” Isaac Brown asked. “I don’t have a gun!”

  Martin reached across the desk and grabbed Brown by the jacket lapel.

  “Then you’d better get one.”

  “I thought we hired somebody for this.”

  “Well, apparently he’s not going to get the job done—not with Adams predicting his every move.”

  “So what do you expect us to do?”

  “Well,” Martin said, releasing Brown, “if our man Breckens is going to use his two men as a distraction, then maybe we’ll just do the same thing to him.”

  At that moment the door opened and Joe English stepped in.

  “Well,” she said as Martin backed off Brown, “what can you two boys be discussing at this hour of the morning?”

  Isaac Brown didn’t know what to say, but Ed Martin was quick off the mark.

  “Isaac is worried about Clint Adams hanging around his place,” Martin said. “He thinks there might be trouble.”

  “I don’t think Clint is here looking for trouble, do you, Ed?” she asked.

  “I don’t think a man like Clint Adams has to look for trouble, Joe,” Martin said. “I think it just finds him.”

  “Is that why you’re wearing a gun today?”

  “We have a dynamic around here we don’t usually have,” he explained. “At any minute somebody could get it into their head to make a try for Mr. Adams. That’s why I’ve suggested that Isaac wear a gun, too.”

  “Isaac?” she asked, laughing. “Do you even own a gun?”

  Brown didn’t like the idea of Joe laughing at him, so he said, “Of course I have a gun. Every man has a gun.”

  “Why don’t you go back to your place and put it on, Isaac,” Martin suggested.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Brown said, “why don’t I do that.”

  He left, walking past Joe without saying a word, which she found odd. Isaac Brown never missed an opportunity to make a sexual comment to her.

  “What’s going on, Ed?” she asked.

  “I explained—”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, “there’s something else.”

  Before he could open his mouth to comment, the door opened again and both George Markstein and Buck Chance entered.

  “Are we interrupting?” Markstein said.

  Ed Martin thought this would be perfect if only Joe and Chance weren’t around.

  “Of course not, George,” he said. “Come on in. Good morning. Hello, Buck.”

  “Ed.”

  “You acting as George’s bodyguard today?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, you can leave him here,” Martin said. “He’ll certainly be in good hands.”

  “That’s okay,” Chance sa
id. “I got nowhere else to be right now.”

  Markstein looked at Joe and at Ed Martin and said, “Shall we get down to business, then?”

  “Of course.” Martin was itching to draw his gun and put a bullet in Markstein’s brain. “Why don’t we?”

  Isaac Brown made his way back to his tent and entered his office by way of the back flap. He hadn’t actually been telling Martin the truth. He did own a gun, but he was always afraid he’d shoot his own foot off. That’s why he had employed the bartender, Al Conroy, who had abilities not only with whiskey bottles but also with guns.

  That was it, he had to call Al in and explain things in such a way that the man would be ready at a moment’s notice to use the gun he had behind the bar.

  Isaac Brown reentered the commercial part of his tent just in time to see two strangers, both wearing guns, enter through the front flap.

  Christ, was he too late?

  Clint saw the two men enter, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, a sure sign of things to come. They were both armed, holster leather worn. Their guns were unremarkable, but the men looked like they’d used them before.

  Not smart enough to realize that Clint was the only man in the place who didn’t look like a miner—except for the bartender—the two men approached the bar and ordered whiskey. They were standing just feet away from Clint.

  Clint turned and leaned on the bar, watching the two men, listening to the bartender talk to them.

  “You boys are new,” he said, pouring them each a drink.

  “Just passing through,” Paul Drake said.

  “Here?” Al asked, laughing. “On the way to where?”

  “Why don’t you mind your own business?” Kemp asked.

  “Hey, pal,” Al said, “I’m a bartender. This is my business.”

  “Forgive my friend, here,” Drake said. “He’s got no manners. Truth of the matter is, we’re lookin’ for somebody.”

  “Oh? And who might that be?”

  Before anyone could say another word, Clint straightened up and said, “Me.”

  FORTY-TWO

  Jeff Kemp and Paul Drake both turned their heads slowly to look at the man who had spoken.