The Clint Adams Special

by J. R. Roberts

  “That sounds insane,” Drina said.

  “I already told you Jebediah lost his mind, didn’t I?”

  “So how would any of that gold wind up in a cave?” Clint asked.

  “Maybe some outlaws got lucky, took some from the Prestons, and hid it away,” George said. “Maybe Jebediah has more than he can handle and stored it there for safekeeping.”

  Now Drina was starting to look almost as excited as George. “Maybe they’re planning a move into Mexico!” she said in a hurried whisper.

  George waggled his eyebrows and said, “It’s gotta be something awfully good, but I don’t profess to know the details. All I do know is that the man who gave me this map made it known that whoever stashed that gold there won’t be coming for it for at least another month. Before Clint asks how I know . . . there’s a courier who comes along every other month and that man I’ve been talking about found out that it’s gold being carried back and forth across the border. He sold me the map and will get a cut of the profits. Took almost every damn penny to my name to get the map, but I knew it was a good investment. I’ll be damned if I weren’t right!”

  “All we found was a single pouch,” Clint pointed out. “That’s hardly enough to create all this commotion.”

  Not only did George drop his voice again, but he could barely be heard by the others at his own table when he whispered, “That was just one hidey-hole. There’s others in them caves. That way, even if someone stumbles upon a bit of the gold, they won’t find it all.”

  “We were searching those caves for days,” Clint reminded him. “We were lucky to find what little we did.”

  “That’s because I didn’t have much more than a vague notion of where to start and that’s more of a notion than anyone else ever had. At least, anyone whose last name ain’t Preston. Otherwise, that man who sold the map to me would’ve gone after the gold himself.” George reached into his pocket, removed the map, and unfolded it onto the table. It wasn’t much larger than a reward notice for a wanted man, and he hunched over it to make sure nobody else in the saloon could get much of a look at it.

  SEVEN

  It wasn’t the first time Clint had seen the map. For that matter, it wasn’t even the first map he’d seen that was supposed to lead to some kind of treasure. Some of those maps led somewhere and others didn’t. The only consistent profit to be made was for a man who was hired on to help the men who believed the map led somewhere. Clint had hired on as one of those men, which meant he went where he was needed and lent a hand when he could. Until now, George hadn’t given him more than a fleeting glimpse of what was on it anyhow.

  “These marked caves are in a pattern,” George explained. “It’s not a straight line, but it’s a pattern, and now that we’ve found one of ’em . . .”

  “You just follow the pattern to the others,” Drina said.

  “That’s right.”

  “If it wasn’t getting so close to dark, I’d ride back out there right now,” George said as he folded the map and tucked it back into his pocket. “We’ll get some sleep and leave at dawn. Ain’t that right, Clint?”

  “Sure.”

  George stood up and slapped Clint on the back. “I guarantee you, the rest of this job will be a whole lot easier than what come before. As for you, Adrianna, you won’t regret introducing me to Mr. Adams here.”

  “I did it for a percentage,” she said. “Just don’t forget to pay up.”

  “You know I won’t.” With that, George ambled away from the table and left the saloon.

  Turning her attention to Clint, Drina asked, “What’s wrong? You don’t seem very enthused.”

  “Something seems familiar about all of this.”

  “Of course it does. Folks within a hundred miles of the Texas border towns all have some kind of story to tell about the Prestons. Most of it’s just that. Stories.”

  “It’s more than just the stories,” Clint said. “There’s something else.” He thought about it while taking a few long pulls from his beer. Tightening his grip on the handle of his mug, he set it down roughly and said, “I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  “You don’t have to go along with George. It sounds like all the hard work is done. Maybe I could even—”

  “Stop right there,” Clint cut in. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I can help.”

  “I’m sure you can, but right now we don’t need any more help.” Clint drained his beer in one more swallow and set the mug on the table. “You’re the one who figured out what George was doing and that I was the man for the job of riding with him, so you’ve got your ear to the ground. Keep it there and tell me what you find when I get back.”

  “I still think you’re just trying to keep me out of harm’s way,” she said through a discontented frown.

  “You can thank me later.”

  EIGHT

  Dawn came and George was already at the stable when Clint went there to collect Eclipse. The Darley Arabian stallion was always ready for a good run, but George was champing at the bit even more.

  “I’ve been waiting for you!” George said.

  “I came here right after breakfast.”

  “You stopped for breakfast? We could’ve eaten along the way!”

  “A man’s got to eat,” Clint said. “You’d best have a meal, too. We got a long day ahead of us.”

  George pulled open the gate of the stall where his own horse was being kept. In one corner of the hay-covered floor was a jacket and bedroll spread out to form what looked like a large nest.

  “You never left this stable, did you?” Clint asked.

  Looking back to the bedroll, George replied, “I was too worked up to get much sleep, so I stayed here and got everything set for today. I believe I know exactly where to go for the next cave. I did some figuring and—”

  Clint stopped him with an upraised hand. “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Then lead the way. It’s too early for the finer details. That is, unless they’re something I absolutely need to know.”

  “Well . . . I suppose you don’t need to know.”

  “Great,” Clint said. “You do your job and I’ll make sure nobody decides to put a bullet into us.”

  Clint wasn’t necessarily worried about that just then, but his colorful choice of words had their desired effect. George quickly finished his preparations and led his horse outside without any more conversation. Following behind while keeping a severe expression on his face, Clint savored the silence while it lasted. He’d spent more than enough time with George to know it wouldn’t last long.

  • • •

  They rode across a few miles of desert terrain without a damn thing moving around them. There was no wind to kick up any dust in front of them. There were no birds circling overhead. There weren’t even any lizards scurrying across the trail as far as Clint could see. After another couple of miles, the ground became rocky and the path angled up between some hills. For the better part of the day, one stretch of the trail looked the same as another. Once they got into the hills, however, Clint started to recognize a few landmarks.

  “There’s the rock formation that looks like a herd of buffalo,” George said as he reined his horse to a stop.

  Clint pulled back on Eclipse’s reins and nodded. “I didn’t notice the buffalo part, but I was just thinking how I recall seeing those rocks the last time we were out this way.”

  “The cave where we found that pouch of gold was just past them buffalo rocks. I’d say around a quarter of a mile. Maybe less.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “I’ll need to ride up there and get my bearings,” George said. When he saw Clint bow his head and wave him forward, George snapped his reins to get his horse climbing the incline.

  Thinking back to what
he could remember of the map George had bought, Clint tried to get a rough idea of where to find the next caves that were marked as containing another deposit of Preston’s gold. Unfortunately, the map didn’t come close to doing justice to what they found. There were caves of all shapes and sized scattered throughout the dusty rocks and tucked behind scorched boulders. The longer Clint looked at them all, the more caves he saw.

  “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Clint grumbled. Patting the Darley Arabian on the side of his neck, he added, “Don’t worry, boy. You won’t be expected to walk behind us while we poke our noses into every last one of these damn holes.”

  Once George was up a ways, he disappeared from sight. Clint didn’t think much of it since he fully expected the next couple of days to be spent sniffing around into every hole in that desert. The stash of gold they’d found was a good one, but not nearly as awe inspiring as George insisted it was. If he was right, there was plenty more to be found, but that was only if he was right. Also, there was the matter of finding it all. Whoever had hidden that money wasn’t stupid, and they’d done their job well enough for the gold to be safe this long.

  Something apart from all of that nagged at the back of Clint’s mind. Even worse, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. The name “Preston” sounded familiar, and he’d made the connection to that region of Texas, but that was about it. Whatever else there was still drifted just out of reach in the back of his head.

  George’s boots scraped against the rock on the trail ahead. Pointing Eclipse’s nose in that direction, Clint wandered over that way so he was close by if he was needed. Then, he heard an errant step skid on the sandy desert floor to send some loose stones skittering down one of the crooked paths. The only problem was that both sounds had come from distinctly different directions.

  “George?” Clint hollered.

  It took a few moments, but George poked his head out from a cave that looked to be just large enough to provide him some shade. “Yeah?” he asked.

  Now that he knew exactly where George was, Clint shifted his attention toward the other sound he’d heard. There was always the chance that a critter of some kind had upset those rocks. Of course, that would have made things too easy, and Clint knew better than to put much stock in hopes like that.

  “Clint? What—”

  “Quiet!”

  Although George bit his tongue, he emerged from his cave amid the clatter of overanxious feet on uneven ground. In the midst of all of that noise, Clint heard more steps coming from the other direction. They were definitely the steps of a man, and whoever it was, he was doing his best to take advantage of the noise George was making. Clint had already picked up on the noise before, which made finding it again that much easier.

  Shifting Eclipse’s reins to his left hand, Clint gave them a flick while drawing his modified Colt with his right. The first few seconds after that were the worst. Although he would soon be close enough to get a look at who or whatever was making the noise, his ears were now filled with the rumble of his stallion’s hooves against sun-scorched rock.

  The first thing he saw was the mouth of the cave where he and George had discovered that first pouch of gold. The second thing to catch his eye was a man carrying a rifle making his way to a cluster of rocks.

  “Hey!” Clint shouted. “Who are—”

  He didn’t get the rest of his question out before the man swung his rifle around and fired from the hip. The shot was too rushed to hit anything, but came close enough to make Clint nervous. Clint fired a hurried shot of his own just to buy him a second to take proper aim. In that short stretch of time, three more men emerged from the cave George had already plundered.

  Unlike the rifleman, the next three didn’t make any attempt to sneak or run for the cover of the rock cluster. They simply raised their pistols and opened fire.

  NINE

  Eclipse had ridden through way too much gunfire to be rattled by the shots that were fired this time, but that didn’t mean he intended on staying put to catch one of those bullets. The Darley Arabian turned around and responded quickly to Clint’s direction by taking both of them toward the smaller cave George was exploring. Being so familiar with every move the stallion made, Clint could tell Eclipse’s footing was uncertain before he was halfway through his turn. He took a quick look down to find sparks flying from the spots where Eclipse’s shoes were striking the rock. Rather than slow the horse down, he leapt from the saddle before both of them fell over.

  Clint’s reasoning may have been sound, but the landing was three kinds of hell. As soon as his feet hit the rocky ground, Clint let out a yelp that told Eclipse to get moving. The Darley Arabian followed the simple command as more gunshots cracked through the air.

  “Clint!” George shouted. “You all right?”

  “Get back into that cave,” Clint hollered.

  “I can’t!”

  “Just go, goddamn it!”

  Since the other gunmen had stopped firing, Clint could hear them talking back and forth. The cave from which they’d emerged was just under fifty yards away, so their voices were washed away by the currents of dry air tearing across the Mexican landscape.

  Clint had stayed low after dropping from his saddle, and when he rolled onto his side, he could feel every last spot where he’d knocked himself during his landing. He gritted his teeth through the pain and made his way toward the top of the slope so he could get a look at the four men who’d attacked him. The terrain was so uneven that there were any number of places for them to find cover and countless routes for anyone to take if they wanted to get the drop on someone else. Having crawled a short way on his belly, he propped himself up to find two men making their way straight toward him.

  Almost immediately, both of those men snapped their eyes toward Clint and took aim with their pistols. Clint rolled sideways as thunder erupted from their barrels. Lead ricocheted against the stone surface where he’d just been, sending sparks into the air and chips of rock spattering against the side of his face.

  Stopping himself with an outstretched leg, Clint aimed his Colt as if he were pointing a finger at the closest of the gunmen. He squeezed his trigger once, which was enough to send his target diving for cover. Clint shifted his aim, fired twice, and scrambled to get his feet beneath him.

  The next shot that was fired came from the smaller caves behind him. It was the distinctive crack of a rifle, followed by the hiss of a round whipping overhead.

  “Come on, Clint!” George shouted. “Run for it!”

  Since he wouldn’t get a much better opportunity than this one, Clint didn’t waste any time in checking the location of the gunmen before accepting George’s invitation. Clint kept his head low and moved as quickly as he could toward the caves.

  He took less than three steps before pistols were fired at his back. All Clint could do was run faster, and when he was close enough to George’s cave, he pushed off with both legs and launched himself head-first toward the shadowy opening.

  Once again, Clint’s body slapped against the unforgiving desert floor. Both arms were outstretched, so he broke his fall somewhat, which did nothing to ease the discomfort of skidding against the jagged rocks. As soon as the upper portion of his body was in the cooler darkness of the cave, the tips of Clint’s fingers smashed against the wall.

  TEN

  “Damn!” he said while pulling his arms in to recover from his dive. When he tried to sit upright, he cracked his head against yet another uneven surface.

  “I told you,” George sighed.

  Doing his best to at least crouch in the shadows, Clint took a quick inventory of any injuries he’d sustained. So far, there was nothing worse than scrapes, bumps, and bruises. A whole lot of them.

  “Told me what?” Clint snapped.

  “Told you that I couldn’t find much shelter in this cave,” George replied. “
And before you ask, there’s no gold in here either.”

  A few more shots were fired at them, all of which chipped away at the exterior rock. “Yeah,” Clint said. “That’s just what I was gonna ask!”

  Wincing either from the gunfire or how badly his last few words were received, George asked, “Who are they?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “How many are there?”

  Clint finished reloading his Colt and snapped the cylinder shut. “Don’t know that either, but I imagine we’ll find out real soon.”

  “How?”

  “The hard way.”

  The rifle in George’s hand was the Winchester that had been in the boot of his saddle. Clint knew it was there, but hadn’t seen George so much as touch its stock in the time they’d ridden together. Now George held on to it like it was his firstborn.

  “How many more rounds do you have for that?” Clint asked.

  Before George could answer, Clint snapped his arm out straight in front of his so he could sight along the top of the Colt’s barrel. The Colt barked once, filling the little cave with the blast and sending a round toward a gunman who’d been trying to creep up closer to the opening.

  “Two,” George replied. “Maybe three more shots. I don’t know.”

  “We’ll go with two,” Clint said as if he was speaking to himself. “If there’s any more than that, it’ll be a pleasant surprise.”

  “What do those men want anyway?”

  “There’s one way to find out.” Clint then leaned forward until sunlight touched the front of his face. “Hey! What the hell do you fellows want?”

  Clint heard a few of the voices muttering back and forth again before one of them shouted to be heard.

  “Found any gold in that cave?” it asked.

  Clint put his back to the uneven wall. It was uncomfortable as hell, but at least all of him was concealed when he replied, “Gold? There’s a good number of scorpions, but no gold!”