by JR Roberts
“How?”
He closed his eyes and said, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”
Dexter Heath and Pete Stiller collected four more of their compadres and rode out the next morning. Armed with information from Vance Restin—possibly information he, himself, didn’t know he had – Heath had an idea where they might find Clint Adams and the girl.
“You want Adams dead,” Heath said, that morning before riding out. “And the girl?”
“There’s a bonus if you get both of them.”
Restin was a cold one, paying to have his own daughter killed, but that didn’t concern Heath very much.
“What makes you think they’re gonna be out here?” Ron Finn asked.
“Something the old man said,” Heath replied. “About a house the girl was born in.” If Adams wanted to hide out, and stay away from town, he’d need help, since he didn’t know the area. The girl, on the other hand, did.
“And if they ain’t there?”
“I’ll deal with that if it happens,” Heath said. “We know the Gunsmith can’t stay hidden in town. I bet the girl takes him to this house.”
“Sounds good to me,” Stiller said.
Finn shrugged, and the other three men looked unco0ncerned. They were getting paid, that’s all they cared about.
Clint woke to the sound of horses.
“Terry!” he said. “Wake up!”
“What is it?” She took her head off his shoulder, looked up at him.
“Get up!” he said. “Riders.”
They both got to their feet. Clint grabbed his rifle and held it out to the girl.
“Take this!”
“Clint – how’d they find us?”
“Somebody got smart,” he said, “that’s all. Take that window.”
They each went to a window on either side of the front door. Clint looked out in time to see six well-armed riders appear.
“Oh God,” she said, “there’s six of them.”
“Yeah,” he said, “more gunmen hired by your father.”
“Clint, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Hiding here wasn’t such a good idea, after all.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “I’m sure you were right about your father. He wouldn’t come here, but one of these men figured it out.”
“Do you know them?”
“I know everyone one them,” he said, “without knowing any of their names.”
“Maybe they won’t know we’re here,” she said, her tone hopeful.
“The horses are out back,” he said. “They know.” He should have brought the horses inside, but it was too late for recriminations.
“What do we do?” she asked. “Do we shoot?”
“No,” Clint said, “we have to let them make the first move. That means we just wait.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Heath had one of his men, Lincoln, go around back. When he returned he said, “Two horses, one a big Arabian.”
“That’s the Gunsmith’s horse.”
“Want me to shoot it?”
Heath glared at Lincoln.
“No, I don’t want you to shoot the horse! Is there a back door?”
“No.”
“Windows?”
“Yes.”
“Then take Harris and cover the back. Do not shoot that horse, do you understand?”
“Sure, Heath, sure.”
“Go!”
Clint saw two of the men split off from the rest, undoubtedly, to cover the back.
“Clint? What’s that mean?”
“It means they’ve got the front and back covered.” He looked around. There were no side windows.
“We’re trapped!” Terry said.
“Take it easy,” he said.
“How can you say that?”
“Because the perfect way to get killed is to panic,” he told her. “Who has more experience in these situations, Terry, me or you?”
“You, but—”
“So take a deep breath and relax,” Clint said. “I’m going to talk to whoever’s out there and find out just how bad a situation we really are in. Okay?”
“Okay.”
But before Clint could put his plan into practice, a voice from outside called, “Adams! Clint Adams!”
“What are we gonna do?” Stiller asked Heath. “By now he knows we’re here.”
“That’s fine,” Heath said. “Let’s see if we can get the Gunsmith to come outside and go out in a blaze of glory.” He turned away from Stiller and called out, “Adams! Clint Adams!”
“This is Clint Adams!” Clint called back. “Who am I talking to?”
“It doesn’t really matter,” the man called out. “You don’t know me, but my name is Heath.”
“You’re right,” Clint said. “I don’t know you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Heath said. “All you need to know is that there are six of us, and we’re here for you … and the girl.”
“Who hired you?” Clint asked. “Her Father?
“That doesn’t matter,” Heath said. “What matters is you’re in a bad situation. You can’t get out of there, unless we let you out.”
“And why would you do that?”
“So you can face us, and go out like a man,” Heath called. “Or, like a legend.”
“You can’t go out there,” Terry said to him.
“Shh,” he said. “Heath, what about the girl?”
“What about her?” Heath asked. “If you face us and win, she comes out alive.”
“And if you kill me?”
“Sorry,” Heath said, “but she’s part of the job.”
“Give me a minute to think about it.”
“That’s what you’ve got,” Heath said, “sixty seconds.”
Clint ducked down beneath the window, his back against the wall.
“You can’t really be considering this?” Terry said.
“What else can we do?”
“But … have you ever faced six men before?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It didn’t end well.”
“But … you’re still alive.”
“Just barely, after that.”
He skittered across the floor to his saddlebags, took out the Colt new Line.
“Even with two guns …” she said.
“Terry, we can shoot it out with them, but eventually they’ll come in. We’ll run out of ammo before they do, or this house will fall down around our ears.”
“Maybe,” she said, “maybe help will come.”
“From where?”
“I – I … don’t know.”
“Neither do I,” Clint said. “Look, you have to stay inside.”
“I can help.”
“If things go bad out there, I’ll need your help,” he said. “If I go down you just start shooting.”
“B-but, if they kill you …”
“I’m going to do my best to make sure they don’t,” he said. He knew if they killed him, she wouldn’t live much longer.
“Clint—”
“Just be ready to shoot,” he told her, and looked out the window again.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Do you think he’ll come out?” Stiller asked.
“What choice does he have?” Heath said. “He’d rather go out standing on his feet than crouching down in that shack.”
“If we gun him down out in the open,” Stiller said, “it’s gonna be a big deal.”
“A very big deal, my friend,” Heath said. “Very big.”
“Heath!” Clint yelled.
“Five seconds to spare, Adams.”
“I have a condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to kill five of you,” Clint called, “and keep one of you alive.”
Heath chuckled. “And why’s that?”
“Because that last man is going to tell me who you’re all working for,” Clint said. “If he does that, I’ll let him live and walk away
.”
“That’s up to you, Adams,” Heath said. “If you live, you can do whatever you want.”
“I just want your other men to know that.”
“They know it!”
“Then I’m coming out.”
The other two men with Heath and Stiller, Haywood and Cassidy, looked at each other, and then at Heath.
“Is he serious?” Haywood asked.
“He’s managed to stay alive this long,” Heath said. “I’d say he’s always serious.”
The door to the house opened.
Clint opened the door and stepped out.
Four men were standing in front of him, and from either side of the house came the fifth and sixth man. They were all within his sight, which he found odd. If he was on the other side he would have stretched them out so that he’d have to turn his head to see them all. He could make out the fifth and sixth man from the corners of his eyes.
Of the men standing ahead of him, he was able to pick out the man called Heath.
“You’re Heath,” he said, looking directly at the man.
“That’s right,” Heath said. “How could you tell?”
“You look like you’re in charge.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Don’t,” Clint said. “I’m going to kill you first.”
The other men shifted their feet nervously. Clint knew he was seeming way too confident to suit them. That was his goal. Nerve would make them rush their shots. That was his only chance to survive.
“I suppose you’ll want—” Heath started to say, but Clint didn’t give him time to finish. Talking too much was another way to get killed. When it came to this kind of a situation, the only thing that helped was getting it done.
He drew both guns, the modified Colt from his holster, and the New Line from his belt.
Terry watched in awe from the window, her rifle ready if Clint needed her. She could see Clint and all six men he was facing.
As promised, he killed the man called Heath first, shooting him right in the center of the chest. The other men were all clawing for their guns as he turned both guns on them. He extended both hands out from his sides and shot the fifth and sixth men, who had come around from behind the house.
The other three men seemed to be pulling their triggers even before they brought their guns up. Two of them actually fired their guns into the ground.
Clint stood stock still, brought both guns to bear on the remaining three men. He shot two of them, one with each gun, even as the sixth man managed to fire a shot at him that missed cleanly.
With five men on the ground, Clint pointed both guns at the last man standing …
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Finn,” the man said. He had his gun in his hand, but firing it again seemed to be the last thing on his mind.
“You’re the last man.”
“Yessir.”
“You heard what I said to Heath about the last man?” Clint asked.
“Yessir, I did.”
“Then drop your gun.”
Finn obeyed. His gun hit the ground.
“Now I need to know who you and your friends were working for.”
“N-no problem, Mr. Adams,” Finn said. “Vance Restin.”
“Restin sent you to kill me?”
“Yessir.”
“And his daughter?”
Clint heard the door to the house open and Terry stepped out, holding the rifle down. She wanted to hear the answer to this.
“He s-said – he promised if we killed you both, there’d be a big bonus.”
“Okay, Finn,” Clint said, “I’m going to need you to tell that to the sheriff, and then you can go.”
“The s-sheriff?” Finn repeated. “He ain’t gonna let me go.”
“I guarantee he will,” Clint said. “All you have to do is ride back to town with me.”
“O-okay.”
“But first we have to tie your partners to their saddles,” Clint added. “We’ll be taking them in, too.”
“S-sure.” Finn still seemed unsure as to whether or not Clint was going to kill him.
“Relax,” Clint said. He slid the New Line into his belt, then replaced the spent rounds in his Colt with live ones before holstering it. “I need you alive.”
“Y-yessir.”
“Start dragging your partners over.”
“Y-yessir.”
While Finn did that, Terry turned to Clint and asked, “You really think the sheriff is going to arrest my father?”
“Does a Circuit Judge really come to town?” Clint asked her.
“Yes, he does.”
“The sheriff may work for your father, but not the Circuit Judge,” Clint said. “The sheriff’s not going to have much of a choice. He’ll bring your father in, but it’s the Judge who will file the charges.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am right,” Clint said, “and you’re going to be a very rich girl.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Sheriff Moreland made the arrest.
“You’re going to pay for this, Moreland,” Restin told him from a cell. “I’ll have your job.”
“You’re probably right,” Moreland said. “I could look the other way on a lot of things, Restin, but having your own daughter killed? That ain’t one of them.”
He left Restin still sputtering in his cell, left the cell block and closed the door.
Clint had to stay in town and wait for the Circuit Judge to arrive, as did the gunman Finn. Moreland agreed not to lock Finn up. It was that or leave and have the Gunsmith tracking him down.
When the Judge arrived, he wasted no time charging Restin once he heard the evidence. There was no need for Clint to stay for the trial, but there was one other thing he had to see to.
Clint took Terry to the office of Eugene Barkley, Attorney-at-Law.
“This is your lawyer, now,” he told her.
The young lawyer smiled from behind his desk and said, “Miss Restin.”
“B-but, aren’t you representing my father?”
“Not anymore,” Barkley said. “He’ll have to get someone else to defend him against criminal charges. Meanwhile, you need to sign a few papers, and then you’ll be a very rich young lady.”
She looked at Clint, who nodded and held a chair for her to sit in.
When they stepped outside, Terry Restin was very rich.
“What do I do now?” she asked.
“You can run your father’s businesses, or sell them,” Clint said.
“I don’t know the first thing about business.”
“Then you better sell his holdings. Barkley will help you with that.”
“B-but, what about the ranch?”
“You can keep living there.”
“I guess – I could keep Ray on as foreman.”
“Do you trust him?”
“He only worked for my father,” she said, “I know he didn’t approve of a lot of what he did.”
“And what about the Drinkwater?”
“I’ll give that back to Buck.”
“See?” Clint said. “You’re already making the right decisions.”
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