The Lady Doctor's Alibi

by J. R. Roberts

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Rufus or Franco might just come tomorrow to talk, or maybe to call me out into the street.”

  “You wouldn’t go, would you?”

  “Be safer for you if this took place on the street,” Clint said.

  “What about you?”

  “Might be safer for me, too.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, out on the street I wouldn’t have to worry about you and that little girl in there.”

  “Do you want to see her?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She frowned.

  “Why not? She’s adorable.”

  “I’m sure she is, but it would put me in the wrong frame of mind,” he said. “I’m just going to sit here, drink coffee, clean my guns, and imagine how this should go.”

  “What if nobody comes tomorrow?”

  “That,” he said, “would throw me off, and then I wouldn’t know what to expect.”

  FORTY

  “Did you hear?” Rufus asked Franco the next morning.

  “You mean that Adams was lookin’ for me? I heard it from Auntie.”

  They were at the saloon on the dock, where they were to meet the other men.

  “Maybe we should wait,” Rufus said.

  “Wait for what?”

  “Another time,” Rufus said. “If we go to that office, Adams is going to be waiting for us.”

  “It does not matter,” Franco said.

  “He’ll have the deputy with him.”

  “You and the others can take care of the deputy,” Franco said. “I will take care of Clint Adams.”

  “He’s all yours,” Rufus said.

  Franco poked Rufus in the chest with his forefinger.

  “You just make sure you take care of the nurse,” Franco said. “I have never been in jail because I never leave witnesses.”

  “I’ll take care of her.”

  “You got money for the men?”

  “Yeah,” Rufus said, putting his hand in his pocket. “I got it from her this morning.”

  Franco eyed Rufus and said, “After you fucked her, eh?”

  Yeah, Rufus thought, after he gave it to her good. He thought that, when it came time to kill her, he’d do it during sex. It was something he’d never done before.

  “Give it to me,” Franco said.

  Rufus took the money out and handed it to the Mexican.

  “American money,” he said.

  “That’s what she had,” Rufus said.

  “The men will take it,” Franco said.

  “How much are we payin’ them?”

  “Fifty dollars each.”

  “There’s a lot more than that there,” Rufus said.

  Franco smiled for the first time.

  “I know,” he said. “More for you and me.” He put the money in his pocket. “You have a gun?”

  “I have one,” Rufus said. “On my horse.”

  “Well, strap it on, Rufus,” Franco said. “It’s time to go and earn all that money.”

  “Earn it?” Rufus asked, shaking his head. “What do you think I been doin’ all these weeks sleepin’ with that ugly woman?”

  FORTY-ONE

  Clint looked out the window at the street below.

  “They know,” he said.

  “What?” Lissa asked.

  “Come here.”

  She came over to stand next to him.

  “What do you see?”

  She stared at the street for a few moments, then said, “Nobody.”

  “That’s right,” he said.

  “It’s early.”

  “But not too early for people to be on the street. They know,” Clint said. “They know something’s going to happen today, and now so do we.” He stepped away from the window, pulled her along. “From now on, don’t go near the window.”

  “All right.”

  “You got that gun I gave you?”

  She patted her pocket.

  “I’m going to check the door,” he said. “I want to make sure it’s locked.”

  He went down the back way. The first floor of the building was empty. That was where Dr. Graham had been planning to put his hospital. The back door was locked, but the lock wasn’t very good. In fact, the door wasn’t very good. If he’d had a hammer and nails, he could have nailed it shut.

  They had two ways to come up—front stairs and back stairs—but both stairways were narrow. They’d be really vulnerable on either of them.

  So locking the doors was not a problem.

  They weren’t going to come up.

  They were going to try to make him come down.

  When Clint went back upstairs, Lissa asked, “Does it give you satisfaction?”

  “What?”

  “Knowing that you’re right?”

  “I don’t know yet that I’m right,” he said, “but I’d rather do this sooner than later. It’s the waiting that gets to you.”

  “You?” she asked, smiling. “I’ll bet nothing gets to you.”

  “Oh, there are things that get to me.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  She was standing with her back to the window, backlit by the sun. Her hair seemed to glow. She was wearing a white doctor’s coat, and under it a simple dress.

  “You.”

  “What?”

  “You get to me,” he said, moving toward her.

  “Clint.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her to him, and kissed her. The kiss went on for a long time. At first she was resistant, but gradually she melted into it and kissed him back. He slid his hand between them, undid her coat, and slid it off her, letting it drop to the floor. Next he pulled the dress down from her shoulders, so that her small breasts were exposed.

  “Wait—” she said against his mouth.

  He turned her, walked her backward until he had her pinned to the wall. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, and then her breasts. Her breath started to come in hard gasps. He slid his right hand down beneath her dress, into her underwear. He touched her, found her wet. She gasped again against his mouth. He took a nipple into his mouth, worried it, started to press a finger inside her.

  “Wait,” she said abruptly, “stop.”

  She wrestled herself free from him, backing away. Her breasts were exposed, the nipples hard, her chest heaving.

  “Not here,” she said to him, “and not now.”

  “When?”

  “Later.”

  “What if there isn’t a later?”

  From the other room they both heard the little girl.

  “God,” she said, covering herself with her dress. She picked up her coat from the floor and hurried into the next room.

  He walked to the window, put his hand to his mouth. He could smell her, taste her.

  “Later,” he said.

  Franco looked up, saw Clint Adams standing in the window. Rufus was with him, in a doorway across the street. The others were down the street, waiting for the signal.

  “Are we goin’ up?” Rufus asked.

  “No,” Franco said, “he is going to come down.”

  “How are we gonna make him come down?”

  “We don’t have to make him,” Franco said. “He wants to come down. Look at him.”

  Rufus looked up at Clint, still in the window.

  “See him?” Franco said. “He wants to.”

  When Lissa came back into the room, he didn’t turn. He knew she would be dressed again, buttoned up.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t be,” she said. “I’ve wanted you from the beginning. When this is over, we can be together, and then you can leave.”

  He saw movement across the street, saw the two men step out of the doorway.

  “Clint?”

  “You keep that gun handy,” he told her.

  “What?”

  He turned and looked at her.

  “Keep it handy,” he said.

  “You’re not going down.�
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  “I am.”

  “But—”

  “You shoot anybody who comes through that door,” he said, pointing to the front, and then he went down the back.

  FORTY-TWO

  Rufus looked down the street and signaled the other men to advance. When they reached Franco and Rufus, the Mexican said, “He’s not in the window anymore. He is comin’ down.” He looked at the men. “You three watch the front door. He might decide to come out another way, but—”

  “Franco,” Rufus said, cutting him off. He looked at Franco, who jerked his head toward the street.

  All the men looked in that direction and saw Clint Adams standing in the street.

  Clint made his way to the alley that ran alongside the building, and walked out to the street. He saw Franco and Rufus—recognizable because of his size—being joined by four other men. So six, he thought, unless there’s somebody on the roof. He looked up and didn’t see anybody.

  He stepped out into the street, immediately noticed by the six men.

  “Which one is Franco?”

  The Mexican standing next to Rufus stepped out.

  “I am Franco.”

  “And I suppose the big fella next to you is Rufus?”

  “That’s right,” Rufus said.

  “You have been lookin’ for me,” Franco said. “Well, I am here.”

  “With a bunch of your friends, I see.”

  Franco nodded.

  “I have many friends.”

  “I can see that.”

  “What is on your mind, my friend?”

  “What’s on my mind is avoiding bloodshed.”

  Franco shook his head.

  “I am afraid that can’t be,” Franco said. “First I will kill you, then the lady doctor. She is upstairs?”

  “No,” Clint lied. “They’re all gone.”

  “I will see for myself after I have killed you,” Franco said. “Rufus, he will take care of the nurse.”

  “Sounds like you got it all planned out.”

  “I have.” He gave a hand signal and the other five men fanned out, more than an arm’s length between each of them. They all wore guns, but the only one who looked comfortable wearing one was Franco. Clint was going to have to key on him.

  At that moment there was a flash of white in the window. Clint had told Lissa to stay out of sight, but she couldn’t resist watching.

  “Ah, there is the good doctor,” Franco said, looking up. “I have heard she is quite beautiful. I will enjoy her before I kill her.”

  “And you’re going to kill her just for money?” Clint said.

  Franco shrugged.

  “Why do I kill anyone?” he asked. “I do not enjoy it, but I am good at it.”

  “Well, I can say the same,” Clint said. “What about your other men? Are they willing to risk—”

  “There is no point in talking about them,” Franco said, cutting him off. “They cannot understand English.”

  “So we’re going to do this,” Clint said, “on the whim of some silly woman.”

  “A silly, ugly, gringa woman,” Franco said, “but sí, we are going to do this. After all, you are the Gunsmith. How could I not do this?”

  Well, Clint thought, as reasons go, that one made a lot more sense.

  Looking down from the window, Lissa Sugarman wanted to close her eyes or look away, but she could not. She watched the six men fan out, and didn’t know how Clint expected to survive.

  Rufus tried to move farther away from Franco. He was not a good hand with a gun, and hoped his size wouldn’t make him a good target for the Gunsmith. Clint Adams would probably concentrate on Franco first, but after that, Rufus was concerned he’d be next. Shit, all he’d ever wanted was some sex and some money. How had he gotten here?

  To Franco, Clint Adams looked calm—but then Franco himself was very calm inside. Men like him and the Gunsmith had been through this many times. But only one of them would go through it again.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw Jim Boone and his shotgun move onto the boardwalk. There was no flash of silver on his chest.

  “Your call,” he said to Franco.

  Franco nodded, but before the nod was complete, his hand went for his gun. This was the signal for the others to draw as well.

  Clint drew his gun and fired before anyone else. Soon after, he heard the boom of the shotgun. His first shot took Franco in the chest, drove him back a few feet. The shotgun blast shredded Rufus Holmes before the big man knew what had hit him.

  The four hired men did not see what had happened to Franco. They were still raising their weapons when Clint turned his attention to them. He fired twice, drowned out by a second shotgun blast. Two men were thrown off their feet, while the other two simply crumpled to the ground.

  And suddenly, it was quiet.

  People started to come out of the buildings.

  Clint walked up to the bodies, was joined there by the shotgun-wielding Boone.

  “Glad to see you,” Clint said. “Hope this doesn’t cost you your job.”

  “What the hell,” Boone said. “Kyle’s been kind of a disappointment to me since he took over the job.”

  Clint replaced his spent shells with live ones and holstered his gun. Boone did the same with his shotgun.

  “Any more expected?” Boone asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Clint said. “This was Franco’s show.”

  “Hired by who?” Boone asked.

  “Probably Rufus, acting for Mrs. Graham. Any chance we can get the sheriff to arrest her?”

  “I doubt it,” Boone said. “She’s the widow of a prominent citizen. Don’t think the mayor would approve.”

  “We’ll have to make sure she doesn’t send anyone after Dr. Sugarman again,” Clint said.

  “Seems to me you already got most everybody out of there,” Boone said. “Once you move the girl and the doctor, Mrs. Graham gets her building back.”

  “That’s true,” Clint said. “But we still don’t know who killed Dr. Graham.”

  “Yeah, we do,” the deputy said. “The sheriff made an arrest last night.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Manolo Gonzales,” Boone said.

  “Marietta’s husband?”

  “Not her husband, really, but yeah, he’s the one. He was jealous, apparently.”

  “Of the doctor?”

  Boone shrugged.

  “That’s why I don’t have a woman, I guess. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand them, or the things men do for them.”

  Clint looked at him.

  “You here because of me, or the doctor?” Clint asked.

  They both looked up at the window, where Lissa was still standing, a relieved look on her face.

  “Do you care?” Boone asked.

  “No,” Clint said, “I appreciate your help.”

  “What’re your plans?” Boone asked.

  “Just want to make sure Lillian Graham doesn’t have any reason to go after Dr. Sugarman again,” Clint said. “Then I’ll be on my way.”

  “Well, I could stay around until the little girl is ready to be moved,” Boone said. “Then we move her and the doctor, and that’s it.”

  “The sheriff hasn’t been much help, but maybe he could let the widow know what happened to Rufus and Franco. And tell her we know she was behind it.”

  “Seems to me she don’t have no reason to stay in Veracruz after that,” Boone said. “She can take her husband’s money and be on her way.”

  Clint looked up again at Lissa, the taste and smell of her immediately coming to mind.

  “I just have one or two more things to do,” he said, “and I’ll be on my way as well.”

  Watch for

  THE BISBEE MASSACRE

  340th novel in the exciting GUNSMITH series

  from Jove

  Coming in April!

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