The Three Mercenaries

by J. R. Roberts

  “Just gotta get my neighbor to watch my place,” he said, “and take care of my horses.”

  He walked them outside, and as Clint mounted up, the man asked, “You wouldn’t be interested in selling that horse, would you?”

  “Not a chance,” Clint said.

  “I’ll make you a good price.”

  “Not at any price,” Clint told him.

  “Can’t say I blame you,” Harker admitted.

  They arranged to meet in Acuña, at Carmelita’s, by nightfall.

  * * *

  When they got near Acuña, Clint suggested that Piper and Autry both go to Piper’s house and wait there until dark.

  “Why?” Piper asked. “Our tail will tell Montoya about the three of us as soon as he gets back to the Montoya ranch.”

  Clint looked behind them. The rider could no longer be seen. He assumed that once they rode back into Mexico and headed for Acuña, he must have peeled off and returned to the ranch.

  “Just the same,” Clint said, “let’s keep some space between us until we meet at Carmelita’s.”

  Piper looked at Autry, who shrugged and said, “Clint’s the boss.”

  They agreed, and split up from that point.

  * * *

  José Perez entered the Montoya house and waited just inside the front door.

  “José,” Montoya said, coming down the stairs from the second floor.

  “Patrón.”

  “What do you have for me?”

  Briefly, José outlined everything he had seen Clint Adams do since that morning. Montoya listened intently, nodding from time to time, but never interrupting.

  “And where are they now?”

  “Back in Mexico, patrón,” José said. “I think they are going back to Acuña.”

  “All of them?”

  “Well . . . they were all riding that way.”

  Montoya frowned.

  “José, you disappoint me.”

  “But patrón, I have brought you all this information,” José said.

  “But you can’t tell me where these four men are right now,” Montoya pointed out.

  “Señor—”

  “Never mind,” Montoya said. “I obviously trusted the wrong man with this job.”

  “Patrón . . . am I fired?”

  “No, you are not fired,” Montoya said, “but you will receive no bonus. Go back to work.”

  “Sí, patrón.”

  José left the room and Montoya walked into the living room, where he also had his desk in front of the large front window. He poured himself a glass of tequila and took it to his desk.

  Actually, José had not disappointed him terribly. He now knew that Clint Adams had three men backing his play, three mercenaries Montoya had heard of, one of whom he had even employed himself. But he knew the reputations of all three. They were fighting men.

  He looked up as his brother, Francisco, entered the room.

  “We will be eating soon,” he said.

  “Have a drink, brother,” Montoya said. “I have some news.”

  Francisco poured himself a drink and sat down across from his brother. Montoya told him what he had learned.

  “We can probably buy Harker,” Francisco said. “He has worked for us before.”

  “I do not think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Clint Adams is offering him something we cannot offer.”

  “And what is that?”

  “The chance to stand with the Gunsmith in a fight.”

  “Perhaps,” said Francisco, “we can offer him something Clint Adams cannot.”

  “Like what?”

  “The chance to go against the Gunsmith.”

  Montoya gave that some thought, then said, “Perhaps.”

  * * *

  Clint reined in Eclipse in front of Carmelita’s and went inside. Rodrigo spotted him from behind the bar.

  “Ah, señor,” he said, “I am so very happy to see you.”

  “Alive, you mean?”

  “Sí, señor.”

  Clint looked around. Only one table was occupied at that moment.

  “Can I get some food?”

  “Sí, señor, of course,” Rodrigo said. “I will tell my wife you are back.”

  “I’ll just get cleaned up in my room,” Clint said.

  “Your food will be ready when you come back out. At the bar, or a table?”

  “A table, since they’re available,” Clint said.

  “As you wish, señor.”

  Clint went to his room, poured some water in the basin, removed his shirt, and washed the trail dust from his body. He could have used a bath, but maybe he’d do that the next day.

  By now Montoya probably knew about Piper, Autry, and Harker, but Clint knew very little about the man. There was no way he could predict what Montoya would do. Since Harker had already worked for Montoya in the past, he might try to buy the man off, but he’d have to find him first. And Clint was lucky that the three men were influenced by his reputation, were willing to stand with him and wait for their money.

  * * *

  After eating their evening meal, Inocencio Montoya pulled his brother aside and said, “I want to talk to Calderon.”

  “The sheriff? Why?”

  “I want to know where he stands,” Montoya said.

  “I will have him brought here tomorrow morning.”

  “No,” Montoya said, “tonight.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  Francisco sighed. When his brother made up his mind, there was no changing it.

  “I will have someone ride into Acuña and get him.”

  Montoya slapped his brother on the back, and went to his desk.

  * * *

  After his meal Clint decided to spend the rest of the day in the cantina, drinking coffee and beer, waiting to see if Montoya was going to make a move before the day was over.

  After dark, the three mercenaries came into the cantina. Rodrigo, seeing three armed gringos enter the place, looked over at Clint, who nodded to him, immediately putting the Mexican’s mind at ease.

  Clint waved the three men over to his table. Rodrigo came over and Clint said, “Rodrigo, some food for my friends.”

  “Sí, señor,” Rodrigo said, “right away.”

  The three men sat, and Harker shook his head.

  “I don’t know how you can live that way,” he said, speaking to Piper. He looked at Clint. “His house is falling apart, and he had nothing to eat there. I’m starvin’!”

  “You’ll like the food here,” Clint assured him. “Best in town.”

  “He didn’t even have anything to drink!”

  “I gave you coffee,” Piper argued.

  “You called that coffee?”

  “This is what I had to put up with all afternoon,” Autry said. “You hear anything from Montoya?”

  “Nothing,” Clint said, “but I figure he knows about you three by now.”

  Piper looked at Harker.

  “You worked for the man,” he said. “What will he do?”

  “He won’t go off half-cocked,” Harker said. “The man puts a lot of thought and planning into his moves.”

  “So we got nothing to worry about tonight,” Autry said.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Harker said.

  “What do you mean?” Clint asked.

  “I ain’t gonna spend the night in his house!” Harker said, pointing at Piper.

  TWENTY

  Calderon entered the Montoya house and came face-to-face with Francisco.

  “This way, Sheriff.”

  Francisco led the lawman into the living room, where Inocencio was seated behind his desk.

  “Sheriff Calderon,” the rancher said.
“Tequila?”

  “Tequila would be good, gracias, señor.”

  “Francisco, get our friend the sheriff a glass of tequila,” Montoya said. “Sheriff, please have a seat.”

  Calderon sat down and accepted a glass from Francisco, who then stood off to the side.

  “Thank you for coming, Sheriff.”

  “Did I have a choice?”

  “Of course you did,” Montoya said. “I just sent you an invitation.”

  An invitation from a Montoya was the same as a command, but Calderon didn’t comment.

  “Very well,” Montoya said. “I will get to the point.”

  Calderon nodded and sipped his drink.

  “You know three men named Piper, Autry, and Harker?”

  “Gringo mercenaries,” Calderon said. “They do most of their work in Mexico.”

  “How would Clint Adams know about them?”

  “I did not know he did.”

  “Well, he does,” Montoya said. “He has hired them to stand with him against my family.”

  “Do you know that for a fact?”

  “I have good information that they are riding with him.”

  “Well,” Calderon said, “they are all gringos.”

  “Are you saying that all gringos know each other?”

  “Not all.” Calderon finished his drink, leaned forward, and set the glass down on Montoya’s desk.

  “Sheriff,” Montoya said, “I am going to kill Clint Adams.”

  “I have already heard that, señor.”

  “And anyone who stands with him.”

  “That is too bad for them.”

  “What I need to know,” Montoya said, “is where you will stand on all of this?”

  “I will stand where I always stand, señor,” Calderon said, “on the side of the law. That is my job.”

  “A job you have because of me.”

  “I understand that, Señor Montoya,” Calderon said, “but you gave me this job because you knew I would do it.”

  “Sheriff,” Montoya said, “it would be unwise for you to stand between me and the man who shot my son.”

  “How is Juanito?”

  “He is healing,” Montoya said. “But his mother is making my life miserable.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.”

  “And she will continue to do that until I have killed the Gunsmith.”

  “Señor,” Calderon said, “I do not think the Gunsmith will die easily.”

  “I do not expect him to,” Montoya said. “I just expect him to die.”

  * * *

  Rodrigo covered the table with Carmelita’s food, and the three mercenaries dug in. Clint decided to help them after he smelled it cooking.

  “This town’s got law, don’t it?” Harker asked.

  “It does,” Clint said. “Sheriff Calderon.”

  “Is he in Montoya’s pocket?”

  “I don’t think so,” Clint said. “Not exactly anyway.”

  “What does that mean?” Piper asked.

  “I don’t think the sheriff will make a move until the dust settles.”

  “On us, you mean?” Autry asked.

  “That’s not the plan,” Clint said. “I’m looking forward to paying all three of you.”

  “Shit,” Piper said, “you really expect all of us to come out of this alive?”

  Clint chewed the taco that was in his mouth, swallowed, and said, “That’s the plan.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Francisco saw the sheriff to the front door, then returned to the living room. His brother was still seated behind his desk, deep in thought.

  “What do you think, my brother?” Francisco asked.

  “I do not think we will have any trouble with him,” Montoya said without looking at his brother.

  “Why not?”

  Now Inocencio looked at his brother.

  “He knows better than to stand in my way.”

  “And what if he decides to try and act like a real lawman?” Francisco asked.

  Montoya looked at his brother again.

  “Then we would take the badge away from him.”

  Francisco nodded.

  “Why don’t you turn in, Francisco?” Montoya suggested.

  “And you?”

  “I will be here for a while,” Montoya said.

  “Very well,” Francisco said. “Buenas tardes.”

  “Buenas tardes,” Montoya said.

  * * *

  Clint got Harker his own room in the back of Carmelita’s. Rodrigo said he had a cousin who had a room in the back of his store, so he rented it for Piper and Autry. That way, they could be close by.

  After Carmelita’s closed, Rodrigo remained behind the bar to give Clint and Harker beers. Carmelita finished cleaning the kitchen and went to bed.

  After a couple of hours, Rodrigo came over to their table.

  “Señors, I will go to bed now, so I can open early in the morning,” he said. “Help yourselves to cerveza.”

  “Gracias, Rodrigo,” Clint said. “We’ll make sure we don’t drink you out of business.”

  “Gracias, señor. Buenas tardes.”

  Rodrigo went down the hall to the rooms he shared with Carmelita.

  “That feller is real impressed with you,” Harker said.

  “He’s a good friend.”

  “But he ain’t the kind of friend you really need right now,” Harker said.

  “The kinds of friends I need are the kinds who cost me a thousand dollars each.”

  “Ain’t you got cheaper friends?”

  “Probably,” Clint said, “if I could get to a telegraph office. But then it would take time to get to them, and time for them to get here. This way’s easier.”

  “You really make that money playing poker?”

  “I did,” Clint said. “I got lucky.”

  “I’d like that kind of luck,” Harker said, “making thousands of dollars without gettin’ shot at.”

  “Sometimes you lose, though.”

  “Well then,” Harker said, “it’s about the same as gettin’ shot at, ain’t it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Why didn’t you just kill the Montoya kid, and ride out?”

  “There was no reason to kill him,” Clint said. “He wasn’t half as good with a gun as he thought he was.”

  “That the only reason?”

  “What other reason could there be?” Clint asked. “I don’t kill unless I have to.”

  “That ain’t exactly what your reputation says about you,” Harker pointed out.

  “I can’t help that,” Clint said. “I have to live up to my own standards, not the standards others have tried to set for me.”

  Harker finished his beer and stared into the mug.

  “You want another?” he asked Clint.

  “One more, and then I’m goin’ to bed.”

  “We gonna set a watch?” Harker asked as he walked to the bar.

  “I don’t think so,” Clint said. “Not yet anyway. Montoya is still thinking.”

  Harker went behind the bar, drew two more beers, and carried them back to the table. He set one down in front of Clint, then sat back down.

  “You really feel that way?” he asked.

  “What way?”

  “That you don’t have to live up to your reputation?”

  “I have to be aware of it,” Clint said. “I don’t have to live by it.”

  “I’ve met lots of men with reputations,” Harker said. “Most of them let it go to their heads.”

  “Let me guess,” Clint said. “Most of those men are dead.”

  “Yup.”

  “What
about you?” Clint asked. “You’ve got a reputation, don’t you?”

  “Just for doin’ what I say I’m gonna do,” Harker replied, “or what I’m paid to do.”

  “Since you worked for Montoya before,” Clint said, “what would happen if he tried to buy you? Made you a better offer than I did?”

  “Can’t happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, first, I already made a deal with you,” Harker said. “I don’t go back on deals.”

  “You said first,” Clint said. “What’s second?”

  “I don’t like Montoya.”

  “Why not?”

  “I worked for him once.”

  “And?”

  “He tried not to pay me.”

  “How did that go?”

  “He claimed I didn’t do the job he hired me for,” Harker said. “And I mean, the whole job.”

  “And?”

  “And he was wrong.”

  “And he paid you?”

  Harker nodded.

  “I made him see the error of his ways, and convinced him that it would be a bad idea not to pay me.”

  “So my guess is,” Clint said, “if you don’t like him, he doesn’t like you.”

  “Good guess.”

  “So maybe he wants to kill you as much as he wants to kill me?” Clint suggested.

  “I doubt it,” Harker said. “All I did was make him pay me what he owed me. I didn’t shoot his son. No, I think you’re still number one on his list.”

  “Thanks for that.” Clint drank down half the beer, then pushed the rest away. “I’m going to bed.”

  “I’ll finish my beer, then put both mugs back behind the bar,” Harker said.

  Clint said, “Good night.” He stood up, walked to the doorway that led to the hall, then turned back. “You’re going to stay on watch, aren’t you?”

  “I thought I might,” Harker said, “for a while.”

  “Okay,” Clint said, “I’ll relieve you in four hours.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Francisco Montoya was in his room when there was a knock on his door. He opened it, and Maria Montoya, his sister-in-law, slipped inside. She was wearing a robe.

  “Where is Inocencio?” she asked.

  “At his desk,” Francisco said. “He has work to do.”