“I do.”
The boy ran outside and came running back in with his sisters and brother. The other diners in the place stared at them as they sat with Clint Adams.
“Introduce me,” Clint said.
“That’s Jenny, Simon, and Jesse.”
“Hello.”
They all nodded, stared at the food on his plate.
Clint waved the waitress over. She was a pretty woman in her thirties who had waited on him each time he came in. Her name was Amy.
“These aren’t your kids,” she said.
“No.”
“Wait,” she said, “you’re the McCall kids.”
They all looked at her guiltily.
“You know them?” Clint asked.
“I know the family,” she said. “But nobody has seen their mother or father for some time.”
“Bring them all the same thing I have,” Clint said.
“Comin’ up.”
He looked around, saw the stares they were drawing.
“What’s the matter with everyone?”
“The McCall family . . . they’re not exactly well liked in town.”
“Well, these are just kids,” he said, “and I’m feeding them.”
“Comin’ up,” she said again.
Clint looked around at the four young faces staring at him.
“Are you really the Gunsmith?” Jenny asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Wow!” Simon said.
“Yeah,” Jesse said, “wow.” Clint was sure from the way she was looking around the table, she had no idea who he was.
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Jason?” Clint asked.
“It’s about our father,” Jason said. “His name is Jimmy.”
“Jimmy McCall?” Clint asked.
All four of them nodded.
“I’m afraid I never heard of him.”
“That’s okay,” Jason said, “he ain’t famous, or nothin’.”
“He’s just our dad,” Jenny said.
“Well, where is he?” Clint asked.
“That’s what we want you to find out,” Jason said. He took the bag out of his pocket and put it on the table.
“What’s this?” Clint picked it up, heard the change jingle.
“That’s nineteen dollars and fifty-eight cents,” Jason said.
“That’s a lot!” Simon said.
“It’s a fortune,” Jenny said.
“I’m hungry,” Jesse said.
On cue the waitress came over with four plates she carried up and down her arms. She set one plate in front of each child.
“I’ll go get a basket of warm biscuits,” she said.
“Wow!” Simon said.
“Okay,” Clint said, “go ahead and eat. We can keep talking while we eat.”
“Yessir!” Jason said.
All four kids picked up their forks and dug in.
“Where is your mother?” Clint asked.
“Ma died,” Jason said.
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“And what did your father do?” he asked.
“Well,” Jason said, his mouth full of eggs and steak, “at first he cried a lot, but then he told us he had to go away.”
“Where?”
“He wouldn’t tell us,” Jenny said, “but he said when he came back, we’d have all the money we need.”
“And how long ago was this?” Clint asked.
She looked at her old brother.
“A few months.”
“Wait a minute,” Clint said. “Have you kids been living by yourselves all this time?”
They didn’t answer, but all four of them looked guilty.
“You have, haven’t you?” Clint said. “And you haven’t let anybody know.”
“No sir,” Jason said.
“Why not?”
“They’d split us up if they knew,” Jenny said.
“So how have you been living?” Clint asked.
“I do odd jobs,” Jason said, “and I hunt.”
“I been cookin’ and cleanin’,” Jenny said.
“And me and Jesse do chores,” Simon said.
Jesse made a face and said, “I hate doin’ chores.”
“Lots of people do, Jesse,” Clint said.
Amy came back with a tray bearing a basket of biscuits and four glasses of milk. She set them out on the table.
“I’ll get you some more coffee, Mr. Adams.”
“Thanks, Amy,” he said, “and just call me Clint.”
“All right, Clint.”
“Can we call you Clint?” Simon asked.
“Simon!” Jenny said. “Have some respect. You call him Mr. Adams.”
Clint was going to contradict her, then decided against it.
They all continued to eat.
“So, Jason, your father didn’t say where he was going.”
“No sir.”
“Did he say who he was going with?”
“He did mention a name.”
“What name?”
“Donovan.”
“Are you sure?” Clint asked.
Jason looked at Jenny.
“I heard it, too,” she said.
“Donovan,” Clint said.
“Do you know him?” Jason asked.
“If it’s the same man,” Clint said, “I’m afraid I do.”
EIGHT
The kids finished eating. Clint made sure they had enough, asked if they wanted more. The two young ones seemed poised to ask for more, but a look from their eleven-year-old sister held them in check.
“We’ve all had enough, Mr. Adams,” Jason said, “and we thank you. But we’d like to know if you’re gonna find our dad for us.”
“Well,” Clint said, “first I want you to take this back.” Clint pushed the bag containing the nineteen dollars and fifty-eight cents back across the table to Jason.
Jenny asked, “Does this mean you ain’t gonna look for—”
“Jenny,” Clint said, “I just want you to have your money back. Use it to buy some food and supplies. As for your father, I want to take a ride out to your house with you. We’ll finish talking about it out there. How’s that sound?”
“Well,” she said, “I ain’t cleaned the place up—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clint said. “Come on. Meet me outside after I pay the bill.”
The four kids stood up and walked out of the restaurant. The other diners followed their progress with their eyes.
“What’s wrong with you people?” Clint asked as he stood. “They’re just a bunch of kids.”
“McCall kids,” a man said.
Clint ignored him. Amy came over and he handed her money for the breakfast.
“Don’t think too badly of these people, Clint,” she said. “The McCalls have never been very neighborly to them.”
“That’s no reason to mistreat their kids,” Clint said.
“I feel bad for them,” she said, “especially the little ones. Let me know what happens, okay?”
“I will, Amy.”
He stepped outside, found all the kids already loaded onto the buckboard. Jason and the small ones were in the back, while Jenny was on the seat.
“You can sit here, Clint,” she said, tapping the space next to her.
“Thanks,” he said. He climbed up next to her. “You mind if I drive?”
She handed him the reins.
“How far do you live?” he asked. “Will I be able to walk back?”
“It’s pretty far,” Simon said.
“But you could walk it,
” Jason said.
“I got short legs,” Simon added.
“Yes, you do, little guy,” Clint said. “Okay, give me directions.”
* * *
Clint drove the buckboard to the McCall house, a rundown shack just outside of town. Actually, the horse pretty much knew the way, so he just gave the animal his head.
“This is our house!” Simon shouted as he jumped down from the buckboard.
“I can see that,” Clint said. He got down, helped Jenny down, and then lifted Jesse down from the back. Jason dropped to the ground.
“Come on,” Jason said. “I’ll show you the inside.”
Clint looked around at the coral and barn that were in need of repair, then followed the kids into the house, hoping it wouldn’t fall down around them.
The inside was as bad as the outside. The furniture that was there was in pieces, torn curtains hung on the windows, some of which were broken.
“This is where you live?”
“It looked a lot better when Ma and Pa were here,” Jenny told him.
Clint looked at Jason.
“Why not send the little ones out to play, Jason,” he suggested.
“Jesse, Simon, here,” Jason said. He gave them each a piece of the hard candy he had brought home for them the day before. “Go out and play.”
“Okay,” Simon said. “Come on, Jesse!”
The two little ones ran out.
“Let’s sit,” Clint said to Jenny and Jason.
They all sat at the rickety kitchen table.
“Jason, what did your dad take with him when he left?” Clint asked.
“His gun, his rifle, his saddlebags, and the only good saddle horse that we had.”
“And what did he tell you?”
“That I was in charge of my brother and my sisters,” Jason said.
“He said Jason had to be the daddy, and I had to be the mommy, until he came back,” Jenny said.
“And that’s what we done,” Jason said.
“But Papa’s been gone too long,” Jenny said with tears in her eyes. “We miss him. Simon and Jesse, they miss him.”
“I can’t go look for them, Mr. Adams,” Jason said. “I can look after my brother, and my sisters, but I know I’m too small, too young to go and find him. So I been saving money until I could find somebody to go and find him for us.”
“And that’s me?”
“I saw what you done yesterday, in front of the saloon,” Jason said. “You ain’t afraid of nothin’. You can do anythin’.”
“You can do it, Mr. Adams,” Jenny said. “You got to!”
“We need our pa,” Jason said.
“Yes, you do,” Clint said. “You do need your father.”
“Then you’ll do it?” Jenny asked.
“If you’ll call me Clint,” he said to her, “I’ll do it.”
“Oh, Clint.” She got up, ran around the table, and threw her arms around his neck.
What had he got himself into this time?
NINE
Clint walked back to town and stopped in at Sheriff Dyson’s office.
“You here to make your statement?” Dyson asked. “I expected you last night.”
“Sorry,” Clint said. “I can do it now, but I really came here to talk to you about something else.”
“About what?”
“Jason McCall’s father,” he said.
“Jimmy? What about him?”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“Jimmy’s ornery,” Dyson said. “He has no friends. Him and his wife lived out there with their kids, only came to town for supplies. And then his wife died.”
“Naturally?”
“Yeah,” Dyson said. “She just got sick and . . . died.”
“Then what happened?”
“Jimmy didn’t take it well,” Dyson said. “He started to drink, neglected the house, the barn, the kids . . . Why are you askin’?”
“The kids . . . they asked me to talk to him,” Clint said.
“I don’t know what good that’ll do,” Dyson said. “I don’t even think he’ll talk to you. He’ll probably take a shot at you if you go out there.”
Clint didn’t tell the sheriff he’d already been out there. He promised the kids he wouldn’t tell anybody that Jimmy had gone. Those four kids really did belong together, so he promised he wouldn’t let them get split up, if he could help it.
“Is Jimmy a lawbreaker, Sheriff?”
“Naw, not really.”
“What do you mean by ‘not really’?”
“Well . . . if Jimmy saw a way to make an easy buck, he might take it,” Dyson said. “He does love those kids, so . . .”
“So he’d do something against the law to take care of them?”
“Well . . . I guess that’s what any father would do,” Dyson said.
“Yeah, okay,” Clint said. “Give me some paper. I’ll write out that statement you need and sign it.”
“Okay,” Dyson said. He got the paper and pencil from his desk and pushed it over to Clint.
* * *
After Clint had written out his statement and signed it, he left the sheriff’s office.
“Good luck with Jimmy,” Dyson said.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“And make sure you let me know when you leave town, will ya?”
“I will.”
But Clint couldn’t leave, not until Eclipse was ready to travel. When he did leave, he promised the kids he’d look for their father.
But if Jimmy McCall had gotten involved with Donovan, then he definitely was in a position to break the law.
Andy Donovan was an outlaw, the leader of an outlaw band. He had a reputation as a thief, a gunman, a killer. And anybody who rode with him was also a thief, and probably a killer.
But Jimmy McCall had four kids and, according to the sheriff, wasn’t a thief or a murderer, just a dad trying to take care of his kids.
But if he was riding with Donovan, Clint wasn’t sure he could bring him back alive.
TEN
Clint went to see Amy as she was getting off work. She was surprised to see him when she came outside.
“How did you know when I finished work?” she asked.
“I saw you going home one night,” he said. “Can I walk you?”
“Well . . . sure.”
“I want to talk to you about those kids,” I said, “and their parents.”
“Are they okay?” she asked while they walked.
“Yes, they’re fine. Did you know their mother?” he asked.
“Kate,” she said, “yes, I knew her. I think I might’ve been her only friend. I was so sorry when she died. I tried to help them, but Jimmy chased me off. He wouldn’t let me come out there.”
Clint had the feeling Jimmy was keeping everybody away from the house because he knew he was going to leave, and he didn’t want anyone to go out there and see that the kids were alone.
He had to choose his words carefully with Amy.
“Tell me about Jimmy,” he said.
“Jimmy loved Kate, and he loves those kids,” she said. “He’s just been a wreck since she died. Do the kids think you can do something about him?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I think they just want me to talk to him. Jason seems to think he can trust me.”
“I’d trust you,” she said.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I have found that Jason is a good judge of character,” she said.
“How’s Jimmy’s character, Amy?”
“What do you mean?”
“Would he break the law to help his kids?”
“In a minute. If only he�
��d stop drinking,” she said. “He hasn’t been to town in weeks.”
“You haven’t tried to go back out there?”
“Jimmy made himself pretty clear the last time,” she said. “No, I haven’t tried to go back.”
“And nobody else has?”
“Jimmy doesn’t have any friends, Clint,” she said. “He’s sort of made sure of that.”
“I see.”
“Well, here I am,” she said. “Do you want to come in and have a look?”
They were standing in front of the building that housed the hardware store. He assumed she was talking about something upstairs.
“Um, aren’t you afraid . . .” he started, looking around.
“Don’t worry about my reputation,” she said. “I don’t. Come on. I want to show you my bedroom.”
“Your bedroom?”
She linked her arm in his and said, “I’ve been wanting to get you into my bedroom since that first day you came in.”
“Amy—”
“Don’t tell me you’re shy.”
“No, I’m not shy.”
“Well, I’m not either,” she said. “And I get the feeling you’re not gonna be in town much longer. This may be my last chance.”
She slid her hand down to his and clasped it.
“Are you comin’ up?”
He smiled at her and said, “I’m coming up.”
* * *
Clint had been to bed with waitresses before, and they all had one thing in common. They smelled like the food they served. He never considered that a bad thing. He’d also been to bed with them right after they left work, and there were other smells he didn’t mind. In fact, he liked when he could smell a woman’s sweat. And at the end of the day a woman smelled like a woman. Amy had all of that, and more.
She led him into her bedroom, released his hand, turned, and removed her dress in record time. She stood naked in front of him, gave him time to take a good, long look.
She was medium height, maybe five-four, had full breasts with heavy undersides and large nipples. They were perfect as far as he was concerned.
He moved close to her, took her in his arms, and kissed her. She pressed her breasts tightly against his chest. He let his hands glide over her back until he was cupping her buttocks. She moaned into his mouth as the kiss went on and on . . .
Finally, she backed away, but only far enough to allow her to get her hands on his belt. He helped her by removing his gun belt, setting it aside within easy reach. After that she had no problem removing the rest of his clothes.
Missing Patriarch (9781101613399) Page 3
