Gunsmith #359 : 2 Guns for Vengeance (9781101545270)

by Roberts, J. R.

  Andrea looked around and asked, “Where? Who is he?”

  “You don’t need to know who he is,” Clint said, “and if he’s doing his job right, you’ll never see him.”

  “Very mysterious,” Andrea said.

  “I just want to do what I can to keep you safe while I get back out to the house.”

  “We’re very appreciative,” Andrea said. “Is, uh, Gordon going back out with you?”

  “That’s up to him,” Clint said. “I don’t really know.”

  “When are you going back?” Chelsea asked.

  “Right now.”

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “I will.”

  Andrea looked from Chelsea to Clint and back, and Clint knew that he was going to be the subject of a discussion when he walked out.

  “If you need anything, go to the sheriff,” Clint said.

  “My husband says he is useless,” Andrea pointed out.

  “That may be, but he’s still the sheriff,” Clint said. “He’s the one you go to when you’re in trouble.”

  “All right.”

  Clint stood and said, “Enjoy the rest of your meal, and I’ll see you both soon.”

  He turned and left. Once outside, he peered in the window, saw the two women sitting with their heads together, speaking urgently.

  He walked away and headed for the lawyer’s office.

  “I’m riding back to the house,” Clint said as he entered the office. Westin was seated behind his desk, but didn’t seem to be doing anything in particular. “Are you coming?”

  “I don’t know,” Westin said.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know how much help I’d be,” the lawyer said. “I’m not very good with a gun.”

  “It might be enough help for us to just have another body,” Clint said, “but I have an idea.”

  “What is it?”

  “Why don’t you stay in town and try to hire some help?”

  “I—I don’t know how to hire gunmen.”

  “All you need to do is hire men with guns,” Clint said. “If we can provide a show of force, along with Court Smith’s and my reputations, it might change the minds of some of Randolph’s men.”

  “You want his men to desert him.”

  “Yes.”

  Westin sat forward in his chair, suddenly excited about possibly being of help.

  “I can do that.”

  “Good.”

  “What do I pay them?”

  “A hundred dollars each should do it,” Clint said.

  “That’s cheap,” Westin said.

  Only compared to what Powell was paying Clint and Smith.

  “I’m going back right now,” Clint said. “When you have five or six men, send them out.”

  “Should I come with them?” Westin asked.

  “Only if they need you to show them the way,” Clint said.

  “And how many do I try to get?”

  “See if there are a dozen men in town who can use a hundred dollars,” Clint said, “but don’t hire a man named Dan O’Day.”

  “The deputy?”

  “Ex-deputy. I’ve already got him watching the women to keep them safe.”

  “He used to be a good man,” Westin said.

  “I think he still is.”

  “I hope you’re right. You think Randolph will send someone after Andrea? To use her as a hostage?”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it. I think he’ll come directly at us.”

  “I hope so,” Westin said.

  Clint headed for the door.

  “You just start hiring men and send them out to the house.”

  Westin stood up and said, “I’ll get right on it.”

  As he rode back out to the house, Clint wasn’t at all sure they’d have time for extra men to arrive. However, it would probably take a man like Ben Randolph overnight to come up with a new plan. He was also going to have to make sure all his men were still dependable, especially after hearing Court Smith and the Gunsmith were involved. If things went right, maybe there’d be a mass desertion during the night. That would mean Randolph would need to hire more men, or make his move shorthanded.

  Clint figured Randolph probably had six to eight men with him who could actually use a gun well. The rest were just filler, and those were the ones who would leave. If eight men came at them, it would be the best eight men in the bunch.

  But eight would still be better than twenty or more.

  THIRTY-SIX

  When Clint got to the house, Smith was sitting out on the porch. Andrew Powell was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where are the other two men?” Clint asked, reining in.

  “One’s in the back, I’m spellin’ the other one. What’s goin’ on in town?”

  “Not much.” Clint told Smith how he’d hired someone to keep an eye on Andrea and Chelsea. He also told him what Gordon Westin would be doing.

  “You think we can get some extra men out here in time?”

  “I figure we’ve got overnight,” Clint said. “Randolph should be back tomorrow.”

  “I hope so,” Smith said. “I’d like to get this over with, and find out who killed Bags.”

  “So would I,” Clint said. “I’m going to take care of my horse and then I’ll spell you.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “What’s Powell doing?”

  “Who knows? We didn’t talk while you were gone. I think he’s just waitin’ for you to get back.”

  “I’ll talk to him after I see to my horse, then I’ll come out and spell you.”

  “No rush,” Smith said. “I have nowhere else to go.”

  Clint found Powell in his office, sitting at his desk with a glass in his hand.

  “Scotch,” Powell said. “Good scotch. Care for some?”

  “Why not?”

  Powell held up the bottle. Clint went to the sidebar to fetch a glass, carried it to the desk. Powell poured two fingers of brown liquid into the glass.

  “Thanks.”

  “How’d things go in town?” Powell asked.

  Clint sat down and told him.

  “You hired a stranger to guard my wife?”

  “He’s okay.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m a good judge of character.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I also left it to your lawyer to hire us some more men.”

  “Gordon? He’s not qualified to do that.”

  “He’s qualified to hire men with guns. That’s all we need.”

  Clint finished the scotch and set the glass down on the desk.

  “More?” Powell asked.

  “No, and I suggest you don’t have any more either,” Clint said, standing. “We don’t know when Randolph is going to hit, and I need you to be sober.”

  “You said he wouldn’t come until tomorrow.”

  “I also said he wouldn’t send anyone to town to grab your wife,” Clint said. “I’m guessing on both counts.” Clint reached out and grabbed the bottle of the desk. “No more.”

  “Fine.”

  “And I think you should take a turn on watch,” Clint said. “We need everyone.”

  “As you wish,” Powell said, standing. He lost his balance for a moment, making Clint wonder how many drinks he’d had.

  “I’m all right,” Powell said, reading Clint’s look.

  “Then relieve your man in the back. Someone will relieve you in two hours.”

  “Fine.”

  Powell picked up his gun and walked out of the office.

  Clint left the room, carrying the scotch bottle.

  On the porch Clint said to Smith, “Here. It’s his good scotch.”

  “Thanks.”

  Smith took the bottle, had a healthy swig.

  “That is good scotch.”

  Clint took the bottle back and sipped.

  “Where is he?”

  “I sent him in the back to relieve the man there.”

&nb
sp; “Taylor,” Smith said. “His name’s Taylor.”

  “And the other one?”

  “Styles.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  They passed the bottle back and forth a few more times before the scotch was gone.

  “Did you work out some kind of password with the lawyer?” Smith asked.

  “Damn,” Clint said. “I should have.” Now there was a chance that some of the men Westin hired might ride out and get shot.

  “We’ll just have to be careful we don’t kill our allies,” Clint said.

  “I’ll try my best,” Smith said.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Randolph sat in the saloon in Ariza, talking to Lane Barrett.

  “The others aren’t gonna be much help,” Lane said. “They’re afraid of the Gunsmith.”

  “Tell them we’ll pay them more.”

  “How much more?”

  “Does it matter?” Randolph asked. “We’re not gonna pay them anyway, remember?”

  “Right. What about sending someone out there to watch?”

  “No point,” Randolph said. “We know they’re there and they know we’re comin’.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Look,” Randolph said, “we’re just gonna ride in there and take them. And I want the house burned to the ground.”

  “What if there’s money in the house?”

  “Most of his money is in the bank in Brigham,” Randolph said, “and if we have to, we’ll burn that to the ground, too.”

  Andrea and Chelsea had the desk clerk buy them a bottle of whiskey and bring it to Andrea’s room.

  “Are you worried about him?” Andrea asked, pouring the liquor into two glasses.

  “Who?”

  “Clint,” Andrea said, handing Chelsea one of the glasses. “It’s all right. I saw him go into your room.”

  “Well then . . . yes, I am,” Chelsea said. “Are you worried?”

  “About Andrew?” Andrea asked.

  “Or . . . someone else.”

  “You know, don’t you?”

  “I’m sorry,” Chelsea said. “I saw you . . . once.”

  “Then yes, I am worried. About all of them. That man Randolph has already killed five men. And we just have to . . . sit here and wait.”

  “Don’t worry, ma’am,” Chelsea said. “Clint can handle them.”

  “He’s only one man, Chelsea,” Andrea said. “And call me Andrea.”

  “I know he’s one man, Andrea,” Chelsea said, “but what a man.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  The night passed without incident.

  Dan O’Day stayed across the street from the hotel, occasionally crossed and used the alley to check the back. By morning he was certain nothing had happened to the women inside.

  He was hungry. Even more, he was thirsty, but he was determined to satisfy Clint Adams’s confidence in him. He didn’t know how he had earned it, but he wanted to justify it.

  Court Smith came out of the house and found Clint on the front porch. He was wearing his gun belt and carrying a rifle. Clint’s rifle was cradled in his arms.

  “How long have you been up?” he asked.

  “Not long,” Clint said. “I spelled Styles about an hour ago.”

  “I’ll go inside and make some coffee, then.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Strong?”

  “The stronger the better.”

  Smith went inside. Fifteen minutes later Andrew Powell came out. He was wearing a shirt and jeans, and a gun belt. He was also carrying a rifle. It was the first time Clint had seen him in anything but a suit.

  “Anything?” he asked.

  “No sign.”

  “I smell coffee in the house.”

  “Court’s making it. He’ll bring it out.”

  “Where are Taylor and Styles? Shouldn’t they be out here?”

  “They needed some sleep,” Clint said. “They’ll be out soon.”

  “No men from town yet?”

  “None.”

  “If word has gotten around—”

  “I know,” Clint said, cutting him off. “We won’t get any help.”

  “Can we stand against them?”

  “Maybe,” Clint said.

  “Maybe?”

  “Depends on how many of them come,” Clint said, “and how they come.”

  “Is there anything we can do but wait?”

  Clint hesitated, then said, “Maybe. I’ve actually been thinking about that for the past hour.”

  “And?”

  As the door opened and Court Smith came walking out, Clint said, “Still thinking.”

  They drank coffee on the porch, and when Taylor and Styles reappeared, Clint said, “I have an idea.”

  “What is it?” Powell asked.

  “We stop waiting.”

  “And do what?”

  “We go after them,” Smith said.

  “Right,” Clint said.

  “Just us?” Styles asked. “After all of them?”

  “Not all of them,” Clint said. “Some of Randolph’s men will have left, or will be leaving today.”

  “Still . . .” Taylor said.

  “And we’ll have surprise on our side,” Clint said. “They’ll never expect us.”

  “All we have to do,” Powell said, “is know where they are.”

  “Ariza,” Smith said.

  They all looked at him.

  “Well, that’s the direction they came from. Any other towns that way?”

  “Not in Arizona,” Powell said.

  “They wouldn’t go over the border to hide out,” Clint said.

  “They couldn’t,” Powell said. “Ariza’s the only place they could hide out that would be less than a day’s ride from here.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll find them,” Clint said.

  Powell asked, “But what about the house? What if they come here, and we miss them?”

  “It’s just a house,” Clint said. “There won’t be anyone here for them to threaten. Besides, we won’t miss them.”

  “How do you know?” Powell asked.

  “They make a considerable dust cloud when they travel,” Smith said.

  “We’ll see it, as long as we’re heading for Ariza,” Clint said. He looked at Taylor and Styles. “Come on. Let’s saddle some horses.”

  The two men looked at Powell.

  “Look,” Clint said, “if we’re all going to come out of this alive, you’re going to have to do what I say without looking at him first.”

  “He’s right,” Powell said. “You’ll take your orders from Mr. Adams until this is all over.”

  “But you’ll still be payin’ us, right?” Styles asked.

  “Yes,” Powell said. “You’ll both get a bonus.”

  Styles looked at Taylor and said, “Let’s saddle some horses.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Gordon Westin sat behind his desk in abject misery. Word had gotten around that the Powell house was going to be attacked and burned, and everyone was going to be killed.

  Because of that, he hadn’t been able to hire one man.

  He had failed.

  Abruptly, he stood up and rushed from his office. He had to check and make sure that Andrea was all right.

  Andrea and Chelsea had spent the night in their own rooms. In the morning they met in the lobby and went to breakfast together. They were sitting in the same café when the lawyer entered, a little wild-eyed until he saw them.

  “Gordon,” Andrea said. “Join us?”

  He sat down with them.

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” he said, then added, “Both of you.”

  “Thanks,” Chelsea said.

  “You don’t look so good,” Andrea said. She poured him some coffee.

  “Clint gave me one job to do, and I failed.”

  “What was that?” Chelsea asked.

  “Hire some more men, send them out to the house to help.”

  “And how many did yo
u get?” Andrea asked.

  “None.”

  “None?” Chelsea said.

  “The word has got around that everyone at the house will be killed,” he said. “Nobody wants to go, no matter how much I offered them.”

  “Then we have to go!” Chelsea said.

  “She’s right,” Andrea said.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “You, and us,” Chelsea said. “Three more guns on their side.”

  “We can’t—”

  “If you won’t go with us, we’ll go without you,” Andrea said.

  “No, No,” Westin said. “I’ll go, but . . . just us?”

  “Well,” Chelsea said, “there is one more man.”

  O’Day followed the women to the café, then saw the man join them. He stood across the street until one of the women came outside and started waving. At him?

  He crossed the street.

  “Are you the man Clint hired to protect us?” Chelsea asked.

  “That’s right, ma’am,” he said. “I’m Dan O’Day.”

  “Come inside and have some breakfast,” she said. “We have to talk.”

  Over breakfast they told O’Day what they wanted to do.

  “And you want me to go with you?” he asked.

  “Four more guns,” Chelsea said. “It has to be helpful.”

  “Well,” O’Day said, chewing the last of his eggs, “if you decided to ride out there, I guess it would be my job to follow you.”

  “So you might as well ride along with us,” Andrea said.

  O’Day shrugged and said, “Okay.”

  Both women smiled.

  “We better saddle up, then,” Westin said.

  O’Day looked at him.

  “You’re a lawyer, right?”

  They walked to the livery, saddled their horses, and mounted up. Then they rode to the general store, where Andrea bought guns for her and Chelsea—pistols and rifles—and a rifle for O’Day. Westin had his own weapons.

  Saddled up and armed, they left town and rode back toward the house.

  Clint, Smith, Powell, Taylor, and Styles were mounted up and armed, gathered in front of the barn.