Gunsmith #359 : 2 Guns for Vengeance (9781101545270)
Page 12
“Why should I?” Randolph asked. “It’s my money.”
Clint stepped forward and took Randolph’s gun from him.
“I understand you’re pretty good with this,” Clint said.
“Not in your league,” he said. “I never said I was.”
Clint looked at Smith, who folded his arms and stared at Randolph.
“What do you think?” Clint asked.
“Kill ’im,” Smith said.
“Wha—wait!”
“I’ll kill him,” Smith said, drawing his gun.
“Hey, no, you killed Barrett,” Clint said, still holding Randolph’s gun. “I get to kill this one.”
“Hey, look,” Randolph said, holding his hands out, “I’m just trying to get what’s owed me.”
“If you were in business with Powell,” Clint said, “and you think he cheated you, then get it back the way a businessman would get it back. Sue him!”
Smith holstered his gun.
“You’re not gonna kill me?”
“Not unless you try this again,” Clint said.
“I—I didn’t tell Barrett and his men to kill those men,” Randolph said. “I mean, your friend. I just let Andrew think I did.”
Clint had the feeling Randolph was one of those men who could hit a target, but didn’t have the nerve to stand up against another man with a gun.
“Go to court, Randolph,” he said. “Take Powell to court. To tell you the truth, I’d like to see you win.”
Clint tucked Randolph’s gun into his belt and mounted up.
“Hey, my gun!” the man said.
“You won’t need it.”
Smith mounted up, and they rode out.
Outside of town Smith said, “What are we gonna tell Powell?”
“To get ready to go to court,” Clint said. “He doesn’t have to worry about twenty men raiding his house anymore.”
“What if Randolph doesn’t go to court?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t really care,” Clint said. “We got the man who killed Bags.”
“But what if Powell doesn’t pay you?”
“Did you do this for the money?”
“No.”
“Neither did I,” Clint said, “but I have a feeling he’ll pay me. Don’t you?”
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Clint Adams was a legend among lawmen, outlaws, and ladies. They called him . . . the Gunsmith.