The Clint Adams Special

by J. R. Roberts

  There were no more targets in Clint’s sight. The last place anyone had seen Landry was when he’d ducked behind the outhouse, so that’s where everyone concentrated their fire. In a matter of seconds, the shabby little building was ripped apart. When the men in the coats got close enough, one of them nearly cut the outhouse in half with his scattergun. Now that there was a hole in the outhouse big enough for a dog to jump through, Clint could see there was nobody behind it.

  “Enough!” Allan shouted. “They’re gone.”

  “Yeah,” George said with relief. “They’re gone.”

  “They’re not about to leave town just yet,” Clint said. “We know well enough they can’t carry everything they were after in saddlebags.”

  “They’ll be after the gold as well,” Allan said. “Let’s get to it before they do.”

  “Unless they already beat us to it,” Clint pointed out.

  “Then let’s make sure of it.”

  When everyone started making their way up the street, George let out a tired sigh.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  The two men in the long coats were on Allan’s payroll. Henry was the name of the man with the .45. Once he was closer and there wasn’t so much gun smoke burning his eyes, Clint actually recognized the man with the scattergun.

  “Hello, Wes,” Clint said. “I was beginning to think someone had gotten to you.”

  “I haven’t gone anywhere,” Wes replied. His eyes still burned with the same intensity that Clint had seen before.

  “Still watching over Felicia?”

  “You’re damn right I am, so you’d best keep your distance.”

  They’d reached the north end of Cruces Street by now, so Clint strode forward while saying, “Come on, George. Now’s the time to earn all that money you’ve been making on this venture.”

  “Money?” George said nervously while glancing at the deadly men surrounding him. “I was just exploring an intriguing mystery. Once that strange map came into my possession—”

  “Please,” Allan said. “Spare me all the fancy words and the stage show.”

  “Stage show?”

  “The innocent act. You’re like everyone else. You saw a chance to claim a fortune in gold and you took it.”

  “Are you going to blame him for that?” Clint asked.

  Grudgingly, Allan said, “I suppose not. Just so long as he doesn’t try to pass himself off as some well-meaning explorer.”

  “Fine,” George said.

  Clint slapped his hand on George’s shoulder and shoved him toward Ramon’s shop. “And he can also do me a favor by no longer trying to stall. We’ve come this far and the only way this is going to work out properly is if we charge straight ahead without delay.”

  George shrugged free of Clint’s grasp and stomped forward at his own pace. “I’m going!”

  When they got to Ramon’s front door, the entire group fanned out so they could watch the street as well as both sides of the building. There were six of them in all, counting Felicia, who carried a shotgun. Standing to one side of the door, Clint knocked.

  “Ramon?” he shouted. “You in there?”

  During business hours, Ramon normally kept his door open. On the rare occasions when it was closed, he hardly ever made anyone wait more than two knocks before coming to see what he could do for them. After four knocks without a response, Clint knew something was wrong.

  “Landry’s already been here,” he said.

  “Makes sense to me,” Allan replied. “He’d want to come for the gold first.”

  “Let’s check on that,” Clint said before trying the door’s handle. It came open so easily that Clint was certain the door had been forced open before his arrival.

  “George,” Clint whispered. “Stand aside. Allan, you’re with me.”

  More than willing to follow that order, George moved away from the door so the other man could take his place.

  Clint counted down four seconds using his fingers and then shoved the door open all the way. He and Allan moved in quickly and cautiously to face whatever was inside.

  The small room, usually neatly arranged, was a mess. Every piece of furniture that wasn’t nailed to the floor was overturned. Portions of the counter were smashed. Every tool was tossed to the floor. Ramon’s scales looked like they’d been crushed beneath several stomping boots.

  “Where’s the safe?” Clint asked.

  “Beneath the floor,” George told him. “Back room.”

  “I’ll check on it.”

  Clint walked behind the counter and to the narrow door that was always kept closed and, presumably, locked. Before he got close enough to reach for it, he saw it was ajar. Knowing he couldn’t possibly do any more damage to the shop, he kicked open the door so it would smash against anyone trying to hide behind it. The door smacked against bare wall and rattled in its frame, revealing a modest office with half a floor.

  “Whoever was here,” Clint announced, “they already knew where to look.” He approached the portion of the floor that had been ripped up and stared down through the gaping hole in the boards. Beneath the floor, as promised, was Ramon’s safe. In fact, when Clint took a closer look, he saw there were two more safes down there to match the first.

  Allan stepped into the office as well and took in the sight before him. “Damn,” he gasped. “Three safes?”

  “Could be more,” Clint said. “There’s still some floor that wasn’t disturbed. Ramon had a thriving business going here.”

  “I’ll say. Should we bother trying to open them the easy way or just start rigging up a pulley to get them out of there?”

  “Right now, we keep watch over them for a while. I’m guessing the gold is still in there. If that’s the case, Landry will have to come back here to get it.”

  Clint hadn’t been speaking very loudly, but the shop was small enough for his voice to carry all the way through it and back again. “Let ’em come,” Wes said. Those words were quickly followed by the metallic sounds of guns being prepared to fire.

  Looking around, Clint said, “We were supposed to come here. Landry and whoever else was counting on greed to bring us here just as we were counting on it to do the same for them. The only difference between us and them is that they were here first and got a chance to prepare for when we’d do the same.”

  “Allan,” Felicia said from the front of the shop. “You’d better come take a look at this.”

  Striding to the front window, Allan stood beside her and looked outside. “Aw hell,” he grunted.

  Clint stayed in the back office. He didn’t need to see what was going on in the street. He could hear plenty. Mostly, he could hear the rumble of horses’ hooves against the dry desert ground coming from all sides of the building. There was a small window over what was left of Ramon’s bookshelves. Clint looked through it to see those horses taking positions in the lot behind the shop. The men in their saddles were armed with shotguns and rifles. Clint’s rifles, to be exact.

  “Where’s the squirrelly fella?” Allan asked.

  Wes was busy shoving broken pieces of furniture in front of the door. “He’s gone. She let him go.”

  Turning his seething eyes toward her, Allan asked, “Is that true, Felicia?”

  “What was I supposed to do?” she said while handing more broken pieces over to Henry, who took them to the pile Wes was building. “He wanted to get out of here and he left. Should I have shot him?”

  “No, but . . .” Looking over at the men by the door, he said, “What the hell were you two doing?”

  “We were looking at the men gathering outside and that fidgety little prick slipped out the door.”

  Allan looked outside to see a pair of horses facing George, who stood looking up at the riders. “Some partner you picked, Adams.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Clint sa
id. “He’s just doing his part.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  George had waited for his moment, and when it came, he was almost too scared to act. Once he set foot out that front door and started running toward the gathering horses, he couldn’t help but feel better just for being away from the others. Before he could dwell on the shame that followed, he was looking up at Cal Landry and a gunman with the cold, dead eyes of a snake.

  “Hold your fire,” Landry said.

  At first, George thought Landry was speaking to him. Then he noticed the riders on the street all had rifles to their shoulders and were aiming at him. They obeyed the command Landry had given them, but were itching for an excuse to pull their triggers.

  Landry’s eyes weren’t cold, and they were far from dead. They had the glint of a knife blade that had been chipped on a rock. George couldn’t stare into them for long before looking away.

  “So did you come to offer something or are you just too yellow to stand in there with your partners and take your medicine?” Landry asked.

  “Oh, I’ve got something to offer,” George said. “That’s for certain.”

  “Good. Because if you think you’re getting a pardon because you’re out here instead of in there, you’re dumber than you look.”

  When he hooked his thumbs over his belt, George was trying to look like he was at ease. The others around him didn’t appreciate how close his hand was to his holster, and when he moved them up, they all drew tight as bowstrings. George eased his hands out to the sides and then up so they were nowhere near his guns.

  Landry gave one of his men a nod. “How about you take them weapons away from him before he gets himself killed?”

  The man climbed down from his saddle and started plucking the guns from George’s holsters.

  “Those men inside plan to kill you,” George said. “All of you.”

  Smirking, Landry said, “Excuse me if I’m not shaking in my boots. They ain’t exactly in a position to threaten anyone.”

  “One of them is Clint Adams. Do you know who that is?”

  “I heard a few things about him.”

  “Then you should know he can gun half of you down without a thought,” George said. “And the other men in there with him can gun down the rest.”

  “Is that what you came out here for?”

  “I came out here to cut my losses,” George said earnestly. “And to tell you that if you try to storm that shop in the hopes of cleaning out your competition, you won’t leave this town alive. None of you.”

  Even though the gunman closest to George was carrying all three of the captured pistols along with one of his own, he seemed a bit rattled by that. He and the other men looked to Landry for what was coming next.

  “All right. Consider us warned.” Landry drew his pistol, thumbed back the hammer, and pointed it squarely at George’s face. “Now give me a reason not to cut one of my losses right now.”

  “Because you can’t get into Ramon’s safes,” George said in a rush. “And you sure as hell can’t just pick them up and ride away with them.”

  “We’re working on getting the combinations from the blowhard who runs that shop.”

  “He won’t tell you.”

  “I can be awfully persuasive,” Landry said with a cruel smile.

  “It’ll still take time. Think you can get the job done before El General gets here?”

  “What do you know about that?”

  • • •

  “I don’t know all the specifics,” George said. “But I’m sure you’d look a whole lot better to the old man if you had his gold stacked up nice and pretty for him when he arrived.”

  Landry shrugged and looked around at his men that were nearby. “You saying you know the combinations?” he asked.

  “I can get them easier than you could. I’m a paying customer. Ramon trusts me. But more importantly, I can make sure you get that map back.”

  Landry held out one hand, palm up. “Then give it over.”

  “Adams took it,” George said. “For safekeeping. And if you men storm that place, the map will be put to a match. I just want this to be over. Those men in there,” he said while pointing to the store, “they want things to get bloody. Allan Preston wants you men to die, and he wants to do it so the old man gets a message when he arrives. All I’m asking for is a small cut of the gold I found. Just enough for a small profit. Consider it a fee for handing over those men.”

  “And I’m supposed to think you had this change of heart just now?”

  “Think whatever you like,” George told him. “But I already dug my grave the moment I ran out here. They’re watching me right now, probably deciding who gets to be the first to shoot me for turning my back on them.”

  “Can’t say as I blame ’em,” said the gunman who still carried all of George’s weapons.

  “I can work with you to help get this squared away,” George said. “I can make you look real good for your boss.”

  “Shut him up and keep him out of my way,” Landry said. That was all his men needed to hear for them to swarm on George and drag him away from the front of the shop. Once he’d been tied to a hitching post, George was gagged and left with one man to watch over him.

  The gunman who returned to Landry’s side still carried George’s pistols like trophies. “You think he’s got anything to say that Jeb’ll want to hear?”

  “Hell if I know,” Landry replied. “But we won’t have to wait long to find out.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Clint, Allan, Felicia, and the two gunhands who’d accompanied them into Ramon’s shop spent the next several hours with their backs to a wall. Every so often, they took quick glances out of the shop’s windows to see that Landry and his men were still right where they’d been the last time they’d checked.

  “You sure about this?” Felicia asked.

  Clint nodded. “I’ve already told you. There’s only a couple of ways for this to end and they’re all in our favor.”

  “You could have told us your partner was gonna make a run for it,” Allan said. “He wouldn’t have had to sneak out like that.”

  “As far as he knew, any one of you might shoot him if you knew why he was going to leave us.”

  “Not if we knew there was a good reason.”

  “There’s an even better reason for him to think he had to escape behind your backs,” Clint explained. “He needed to be scared as hell when he met up with those gunmen outside. That way, he’s just convincing enough to get the job done.”

  “Landry isn’t stupid,” Felicia said. “He’ll know something isn’t right.”

  Clint looked out the window with mounting interest. “That’s fine,” he said. “George was just supposed to nudge them in the right direction and spark a fire beneath them.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then it’s our job to fan the flames. Speaking of which,” Clint added, “it looks like it’s time to do our part. Is that Jeb riding up to join Landry and the others out there?”

  Both Felicia and Allan went to the front window and peeked outside, where four riders drew their horses to a stop after joining the group of gunmen surrounding the shop. One of them was an old man with impeccably trimmed whiskers and a duster that draped over the back of his horse. The other three kept close to him and watched the shop and Landry’s men with equal diligence.

  “That’s him,” Allan said. “Those three with him are cold-blooded killers who’d murder a priest or anyone else if the old man gave the order.”

  After a few more seconds of talking among themselves, the old man sat tall in his saddle and spoke in a bellowing voice that rolled down the street to fill Ramon’s shop. “Are you really in there, Adams?” he shouted.

  • • •

  Leaning close to the window so he could be heard, but not so close that he could be shot,
Clint replied, “I’m here.”

  “If you wanted to work for me again, all you needed to do was ask!”

  “I didn’t want any part of this.”

  “Then ride away.”

  Clint leaned over so he could take another look through the window. Although the men in the street hadn’t come any closer, they’d fanned out to form a firing line. “It’s too late for that,” he said. “I can’t just stand by and let more people get killed.”

  “People get killed every day,” Jebediah said. “Look around. There isn’t even anyone trying to stop us here! Folks just find a spot to hide and wait for the shooting to stop. When we’re done, they’ll go about their lives. There’s no law apart from what the strong men enforce. It’s like that here as well as back home. We take care of our own business for the good of the whole. Surely you must have heard about the good I’ve already done.”

  “Even if I’m to believe half of what I’ve heard,” Clint said, “that’s too much blood spilled in the name of a crazy dream.”

  “Crazy dream? I’m building an empire. I’m acquiring land and running it how I see fit. That’s what our country was built on!”

  “From what I’ve seen, you’ve got a bunch of killers working for you. Those killers have tried to gun me down more than once over a bunch of gold. That makes you no better than any other robber.”

  “And you’re the man who put the guns into that robber’s hands!” Jebediah roared. A few silent moments passed so he could collect himself. When he spoke again, his voice was smooth and even. “It’s my gold, Adams. The things in those caves are mine. Even these rifles are mine. A man can’t be a robber if he’s taking what already belongs to him.”

  “Good point,” Clint replied. “So let’s put an end to this right now. We can all be out of here in time for supper.”