Anatomy of a Lawman (10 page)

“You’re cute,” she said, reaching for him and pulling him to her breasts.

“Your back looks okay,” Clint said as they dressed. “Maybe a little scraped.”

“And dirty knees and feet,” she said, “but you know what? It was worth it.”

“Next time,” he said, “a nice soft bed.”

“Is there going to be a next time, Mr. Adams?”

“I think there damn well better be a next time, Mrs. Dennison.”

“How about some of that coffee before I leave?” she asked, trying to get her hair to look presentable before she went out on the street.

“Sure. I could use some, too.” Actually, he could have used a cold beer, and he’d go and get one first chance he got.

He poured two mugs of coffee and handed her one. “How’s it coming?” she asked.

“How’s what coming?”

“Your plan to save the town.”

“Are you asking as a member of the Town Council?” he asked.

“Just as a concerned citizen.”

“It’s going fine, then.”

“That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“There’s nothing else to tell,” he said. “I’m getting men together to defend the town.”

“How many do you have?”

“Now that’s something only I’m going to know,” he said.

“I suppose that’s the smart thing to do,” she said, setting the unfinished mug down. “I have to go. When will I see you again?”

“As soon as I can arrange it,” he promised.

“I must look a sight,” she said, patting her hair and straightening her clothes.

“You look beautiful.”

She smiled. “You know the right things to say.”

She blew him a kiss, unlocked the door, and left.

Clint eyed the men assembled before him in his office. Buck Wilby, Minnesota, Commons, Wilkes, and the Prescott brothers. Not much of a force to fight off a gang with, but they’d have to do.

“Everybody well rested, well fed, well . . . whatever it is you did today?”

The Prescott boys nodded.

“Sure,” Commons said.

Wilkes just scowled.

Minnesota and Buck both looked as they if they were drunk, but Clint knew that wasn’t it. He didn’t have time to bother with that, though.

“Can everybody here read and write?”

They all said yes, except Wilkes, who said, “Some.”

“I’m going to hand out a schedule I worked on. If you need help reading anything, let me know,” Clint said.

He gave them all a sheet of paper with places and times written down. Wilkes actually leaned over to James Prescott, to help him read it. Clint found it odd he didn’t seek that kind of help from Commons. He reminded himself to check his wanted posters for any of these men. Not that he would have arrested them, but he would like to know who he was dealing with.

“Any questions?” Clint asked.

“So we’re doin’ this day and night?” Harley Prescott asked.

“That’s right.”

“You really think they’ll try to ride in at night?” Commons asked.

“No, I don’t,” Clint said. “I think they’re going to want the town to see what’s coming, but just in case, I thought we’d set up a night watch.”

“How are we supposed to see anything?” Wilkes asked.

“The moon’s been bright the last couple of nights, “Clint said. “Should still be for the next few nights. After that . . . we’ll see.”

They went back to looking at the sheets he had prepared.

“I’ve also put the schedule up on the wall,” he said, “in case anyone loses theirs.”

“When do we start?” Buck asked.

“Tonight.”

“That puts me on the roof tonight,” Buck said.

“I’ll believe you at two a.m.,” Minnesota said.

Buck nodded.

“Okay,” Clint said. “You’ve got your schedules.”

They started to file out. Buck stayed behind for a moment.

“Any more word on Sheriff Harper?” Buck asked.

“No,” Clint said, “but the Doc said he’s let us know if there was any change, so things must be going okay.”

Buck nodded, and followed the others out. Before the door could close, the mayor, Hal Finley, came walking in.

“Sheriff Adams.”

Clint still wasn’t used to hearing himself called that.

“Mr. Mayor.”

“Those your troops?” the Mayor asked. “The men who are going to protect us from the gang?”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Mayor?”

“I’m just checking in,” the Mayor said. “You do report to me.”

“Technically,” Clint said.

“What do you mean?”

“If you had hired me, I’d report to you,” Clint said. “But as I told you before, my allegiance is with Sheriff Harper. If I screw up, you can fire him, but you can’t fire me.”

“I’m—I’m not threatening to fire you,” the Mayor said. “I only want to make sure that things are . . . progressing.”

“Well, let me assure you, Mr. Mayor,” Clint said, “that things are progressing.”

“Well . . .” the mayor said, groping for something else to say.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Well . . . I just . . .I don’t see why you’re being so . . . well, rude.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mayor,” Clint said. “I have an intense dislike for politicians. I find most of them . . . crooked, and arrogant.” He held his hand up to ward off the mayor’s response. “If I’ve made a mistake and those words don’t describe you, I’ll apologize when this is all over. But I guess we’ll have to see.”

“Well, I don’t . . . oh, all right,” Hal Finley said. “I’ll just tell my fellow Council members that things are . . . on track.”

“Progressing,” Clint said, and then added, “nicely.”

“Yes, well . . . thank you.”

Clint watched the door close behind the mayor, and wondered if he actually would end up being wrong and having to apologize.

Clint woke the next morning with a feeling. From this point on, they had to be on the alert. The bullet wound one of the Graves brothers had received would have healed well enough by now for him to ride. And they’d certainly had the time to put their gang together.

He got up from his bed and walked to the window. He had spent half his nights in this hotel room, the other half in the office. From this time on, he’d be staying in the office. That meant his guns had to be there with him, too.

He got dressed, took his Colt New Line and his rifle with him as he left the room, and went downstairs for some breakfast.

 

Since they were staying in the same hotel, it was no surprise to find Wilkes and Commons having breakfast. What still did surprise him was that they were sitting at separate tables.

“ ’Mornin’, Sheriff,” Commons said. “Join me?”

Clint looked over at Wilkes.

“Don’t worry,” Commons said. “He won’t think you’re playin’ favorites. He likes to eat alone.”

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t like to eat with him,” Commons said. “But I don’t mind eating with others. Please, have a seat.”

Clint sat down, ordered steak and eggs when the waiter came over, then poured himself some coffee from the pot on the table. Commons had a plate of ham and eggs and biscuits in front of him.

“And bring hot coffee!” Clint called after the man.

“Yessir.”

“Yeah, I like it hot and strong myself,” Commons said.

“Do you mind if I ask you what your full name is?” Clint asked.

“I don’t mind at all,” Commons said, smiling. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.”

“Fine,” Clint said. “Then answer me this. Why are you speaking better today? I mean, more educated.”

Commons smiled.

“When I’m around Wilkes, I come down to his level,” he said.

“How did the two of you manage to end up . . . partners anyway?”

“We met about five years ago, soon after I came here from the East. Wilkes was born here in the West. We discovered that we work very well together. The only problem was that we didn’t get along very well personally.”

“Is that why you . . . talk down to his level?” Clint asked.

“It makes things a little easier,” Commons said. “We still don’t get along, though, so we eat apart, and room apart. We only get together for jobs.”

“That’s an odd relationship.”

“Oh, yeah, it is,” Commons said, “but it works.”

“What’s his full name?”

Commons didn’t answer.

“Do you even know it?”

“Actually, no.”

“And does he know yours?”

“No.”

The waiter came with a steaming plate of steak and eggs, and some more biscuits for Clint. Lastly, he left another pot of coffee.

“Did you check your wanted posters for us?” Commons asked.

Clint nodded around a bite of steak.

“Last night,” he said. “Didn’t find anything.”

“You should have asked me,” Commons said. “I would have told you there’s no paper on either one of us.”

“Do you know there was no paper on him in the years before you met him?”

“I know he hasn’t broken the law in the last five years,” Commons said. “At least, no big laws.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it, then.”

“Let me ask you something now.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you really think the seven of us can hold off the whole gang?”

“Normally, I’d say no,” Clint said.

“But this is not a normal situation?”

“I don’t think so,” Clint said. “We have the facilities of this whole town to back us up, and they’re all at our disposal.”

“Too bad the men aren’t,” Commons said. “Has it ever occurred to you to just leave and let them fend for themselves?”

“I’m not doing it for them.”

“Ah,” Commons said, “the regular sheriff, Harper. You’re here out of friendship.”

“That’s right.”

“Admirable,” Commons said.

“What’s your experience, Commons?”

“With what?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Clint said. “What do you have experience with? Guns? Are you a carpenter? What skills do you have that we can use?”

“I’ll give you one hint,” Commons said.

“What’s that?”

Commons smiled and said, “Boom!”

“You have experience with explosives?”

Commons nodded.

“Dynamite? Or nitro?”

“More dynamite than nitro, but I’ve handled it all,” Commons said. “Of course, it was years ago.”

“Are you still confident you can handle it?” Clint asked.

“Sure,” Commons said, “I can handle it.”

“Good,” Clint said. “After breakfast let’s go see what the town has to offer in the way of explosives.”

“Suits me,” Commons said. “I haven’t blown anything up in a long time.”

Clint looked at him.

“Hey, it’s fun,” Commons said. “I miss it.”

Clint and Commons stood to leave, but Wilkes was just starting on a second plate of steak and eggs.

“I’ll meet you at the office,” Clint said.

“Are you going to have the same conversation with Wilkes?”

“Roughly.”

“I’ll check around town for explosives,” Commons said, “and then meet you at the office.”

“Okay.”

As Commons started away, Clint grabbed his arm.

“Any advice?”

“Yes,” Commons said. “Don’t make him mad.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Commons headed for the lobby while Clint walked over to Wilkes’s table.

Wilkes looked at Clint, surprised. He’d seen him sitting with Commons, but he just wasn’t smart enough to figure out that Clint would come to him next.

“I’m eatin’,” Wilkes said.

“I can see that,” Clint said. “Mind if I have a cup of coffee with you?”

“What for?”

“Just a talk.”

Wilkes looked very put upon, but said, “I guess.”

Clint sat, poured himself a cup of coffee. The same waiter came over, but Clint waved him away.

“Didn’t you get enough talk from Commons?” Wilkes asked.

“Sure, but that was about him,” Clint said. “I want to talk about you.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about.”

“Well, there are only seven of us,” Clint said. “I need to know what your talents are so I can use them.”

“Talents?” Wilkes looked confused.

“What can you do?” Clint asked. “You told me last night you don’t use a gun. What do you use?”

Wilkes looked at Clint, then held up his big hands.

“These,” he said, then produced a large bowie knife, “and this.”

“Commons can handle explosives,” Clint said. “Can you do anything like that?”

“Hell, no,” Wilkes said, going back to his meal. “I’d blow myself up.”

“Anything else?”

“Like what?” Wilkes asked.

“Can you hold your breath a long time, stay up for hours without sleep . . . see in the dark?”