Deadly Election (9781101619223) (9 page)

They went into an empty room, up to the windows, and looked out.

“See that doorway?” Heck asked, pointing. “I think they fired from there.”

“They would have had more luck from the roof,” Clint said.

“Maybe,” Heck said, “they weren’t tryin’ to hit you.”

“You mean you? Or Carla?”

“I mean nobody,” Heck said. “I was lookin’ at those bullets in the door. They were a little high.”

“So you think they missed us on purpose?” Clint asked. “Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know,” Heck said. “I guess we’ll have to ask them when we find them.”

“We better go down,” Clint said. “Gryder will be getting nervous.”

“He does seem to be a nervous kind of fella,” Heck said. “I don’t like him very much.”

“I’m sure that fact won’t bother him much,” Clint said.

“And what about the girl?”

“Carla? What about her?”

They started down the hall.

“I think she likes you a little more than the job calls for.”

“No,” Clint said, “I think she’s just doing her job.”

They went downstairs, where Gryder was waiting impatiently.

“Oh, good. You’re here. Carla, go out and tell the driver we’re ready—”

“No!” Clint said. “She’s not goin’ out there alone. Not after what happened this morning.”

“All right, then,” Gryder said, “we’ll all go, but let’s move or we’ll be late.”

“Do I have to make a speech this time?”

“No,” Gryder said, “this time you’ll just have to answer some questions.”

“From women?”

“No,” Gryder said. “This time it will be all men.”

This time Clint was asked questions by the Merchant’s Association of Austin—and the questions were harder, more political.

Heck stood in the back of the room, keeping a wary eye out for anything suspicious. Carla stood next to him. Gryder was up front somewhere, among the crush of men.

“How’s he doin’ with this political stuff?” Heck asked.

“Don’t tell him I said this,” Carla replied, “but he’s doing pretty well.”

“Yeah?”

“His answers are pretty good, and that’s even without Will Gryder’s coaching.”

“Is he tellin’ them all what they wanna hear?” Heck asked.

“Not exactly,” she said, “but he’s telling them how
he feels, and that seems to be doing the trick. But as we go along, the questions are going to get harder.”

“He’ll handle it,” Heck said. “That boy can handle anything.”

After the meeting with the Merchant’s Association, it was time for supper with the next group.

“Who are these people?” Clint asked.

“We’re eating with some of the wealthiest couples in Austin,” Gryder said. “By dessert I want you to convince them to contribute.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Carla and Heck were already in the coach, Heck once again riding shotgun. Clint and Gryder got in the back with Carla.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Stockman’s Steak House,” Gryder said.

“Hey, that’s one of the best restaurants in town!” he said.

“That’s the point,” Gryder said. “Not only the best restaurant in town, but the best steaks.”

“Well,” Clint said, “that suits me just fine.”

“Me, too,” Heck agreed.

When they got to Stockman’s, there was a room in the back of the restaurant reserved for them. They arrived before any of the guests.

“Clint, these people are very important. You’ll have to pay special attention to them all.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“The men
and
the women,” Gryder went on.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The first couple arrived, and Gryder went over to greet them.

Clint walked over to Carla.

“Would you do me a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

“Would you stay with me during the meal?”

“Stay with you?”

“Yes, sit with me.”

“But…why?”

“Because they’re all going to be couples here,” Clint said.

“Ah, you think they’ll take to you more if you look like a couple, too.”

“That’s the idea.”

She shrugged and said, “Well, sure, why not?”

“Don’t mind me,” Heck said. “I’ll just sit by myself.”

“I’d get you a girl, Heck, but you have a wife someplace, don’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Don’t worry about it, boy. I’ll be keepin’ an eye out for trouble while I work on a big, thick steak.”

As more couples arrived, Gryder brought them over to meet Clint, who in turn introduced them to Carla. She got into the spirit real quick, and hung on to Clint’s arm until they all sat down to eat.

The steaks were thick and juicy, the beer was cold, and all the guests were interested in what Clint thought he could do for Texas.

Once again Carla was surprised at how well Clint
fielded questions, and worked on both the husbands and the wives. From the look on Will Gryder’s face, he was pleased, too.

“And what about you, my dear?” one woman asked Carla.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when Mr. Adams gets into Congress, will you be right there with him?”

“I’m sure I will, Mrs. Adcock,” Carla said to the woman. Then she added, “After all, I am his assistant.”

“Is that all, my dear?” the older woman asked.

“Angela,” her husband said. “Behave yourself.” The man looked at Carla. “I’m sorry, my wife can sometimes be…incorrigible.”

Carla simply turned her head, keeping a pleasant look on her face, even though Clint knew that inside she was seething.

He admired her.

After the last of the rich couples had left, Clint turned to Carla and said, “I wouldn’t be friends with any of those people.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” she replied. “They don’t want to be friends with you either.”

“Then why were they here?” he asked.

Will Gryder joined them and said, “They want to be on the winning side.”

Clint, still seated, looked up at him and said, “You know, I’ve never asked. Who’s my opponent?”

“The incumbent,” Gryder said. “Congressman Turner has been in office for three terms, and expects to win a fourth. We want to disappoint him.”

“Well, what’s left to do today?” Clint asked.

“Nothing,” Gryder said. “I’m going home from here. You can do what you want.”

Heck Thomas came over to join them and said, “I’d like to get a drink.”

“That sounds good to me,” Clint said.

“Me, too,” Carla said.

Heck looked at her.

“You ain’t gonna go into a saloon.”

“Why not?”

“Because a woman who looks like you in a saloon means trouble.”

“I won’t cause any trouble.”

“Yeah, you will,” Heck said. “You won’t wanna, and you won’t start nothin’, but there’ll be trouble.”

“That’s silly,” she said.

“I’ll leave you folks to your discussion,” Gryder said. “I’ll see you all at breakfast tomorrow at the house.”

He gave them a salute, and left.

“We can get a drink here, Heck,” Clint said. “Carla won’t cause any trouble here. It’s a restaurant.”

Heck shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

“Let’s go,” Clint said, and led the way out of the back room into the restaurant.

They got a table and told the waiter they only wanted drinks. He took their order.

When Clint and Heck had their beers and Carla a glass of brandy, she said, “See?” to Heck. “No trouble.”

“Like Clint said, this ain’t no saloon,” Heck answered. “In a saloon there’d be trouble.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re too damned beautiful.”

“Why, Marshal Thomas,” she said, “are you flirting with me?”

“I ain’t flirtin’,” Heck said, “and I ain’t gonna sit here and drink.” He downed his entire beer and stood up.
“There’s a saloon across the street. That’s where I’ll be until you two come out.”

“What’s the matter with him?” Carla asked as Heck walked out.

“He just wants to stand at a bar and have a drink,” Clint said. He waved at the waiter to bring another beer.

Andy George stood at the bar with a beer, waiting for his boss to arrive. When he did, he joined his subordinate and called for a beer.

“I was surprised to hear from you so soon,” the man said. “You got your help already?”

“We got ’em.”

“Where are your friends?”

“Out collectin’ them,” George said. “We got three more men.”

“Six against two?” the man asked. “Is that enough?”

“Yeah, although we’re facing two good men.”

“Adams has Heck Thomas backing him up,” the man said, “and he’s a lawman. Is that a problem?”

“For the right amount of money,” the man said, “nothing is a problem.”

“All right, then.”

“When do we go?”

“Not for a while,” the man said. “We want his campaign to get going first.”

“Why?”

“It’s not important that you know why,” the man said. “Just follow orders.”

“So what do you want us to do in the meantime?”

“Do whatever you want,” the man said. “Just be available when I want you.”

“One of us will always be here,” George said.

“That’s fine.” The boss drank his beer, set his empty mug down. He took out an envelope and passed it to Andy George. “That’s fine. We’ll talk again soon.”

As he left, George opened the envelope to see a sheaf of bills. A taste of what was to come, but it was a taste the others didn’t have to know about.

He pocketed the envelope and told the bartender, “Another beer.”

“This has not been an enjoyable day,” Clint said.

“When you agreed to run,” Carla asked, “did you really think it would be fun?”

“Well, no, but I didn’t think I’d be making speeches, and having supper with people I didn’t like—”

“Trust me,” Carla said, “it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“Well, thanks.”

“I’m just telling you the truth,” she said, “and when you’re involved in politics, you’re not going to find a lot of people who will do that.”

“But you will?”

“Well,” she said, “you’re the one who cured me of playing games.”

“Yeah, what was that all about?” Clint asked.

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Do you always jump into bed with men you just meet?” he asked.

“In the interest of telling the truth…no.”

He picked up his beer and finished it, then sat back in his chair.

“I’m tired,” he said. “I don’t get this tired after spending a day in the saddle.”

“Then you should probably go home and get some rest.”

“And maybe you should come with me,” he said. “You need some rest, too.”

“Do I?”

“Well,” he said, “you need some time in bed.”

At the house they did not run into Mrs. Bigelow or Julius on their way in, and went right up to Clint’s bedroom.

Carla seemed to get shy once they were inside. Clint wondered if it was because this was the place where he had rebuked her when she tried to seduce him.

“I feel silly now,” she said, sitting on the bed as she had last time.

“Don’t feel silly,” he said. “I’m sorry I did that to you.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “It taught me some humility.”

He walked to the bed, took her by the upper arms, and stood her up. She tilted her chin up for a kiss and this time he didn’t disappoint her. Her lips were generous and warm, her tongue a light flutter in his mouth.

The kiss deepened. When it ended, the clothes began to come off. Finally, Clint was seated on the bed while Carla pulled off his boots, and then his trousers. His gun had been set nearby, within reach.

When he was naked, his cock sprang up from between his legs, and Carla went right for it. She stroked it and licked it while he groaned and fidgeted, and then leaned forward and took it in her mouth. She sucked him avidly, moaning as she slid the length of him in and out of her mouth.

He ran his hands through her beautiful hair, which she had let down. It cascaded down her back, and he reached beneath it to touch her smooth skin. When she cupped his testicles in one hand while continuing to suck him, he felt as if he wasn’t going to last much longer, so he pulled her off him, lifted her to her feet, and pushed her down on the bed.

“My turn,” he said. He got on the bed with her, positioned himself between her legs so he could press his nose to her moist pussy. She gasped when he touched her with his tongue, and then he went to work on her. He licked and sucked her into a frenzy, reached up to fondle her breasts and nipples at the same time.

When she began to buck beneath him, and gush so that the bed grew wet beneath them, he slid up on her, pressed his cock to her wet portal, and slipped into her easily. He fucked her slowly at first, actually giving her time to recover her breath, but then began to increase the speed of his strokes. He slipped his hands beneath her to cup her moist buttocks, and she pressed her feet flat on the mattress so she could lift herself up each time he drove into her.

From that point they just continued to lunge at each other until Clint finally exploded inside her, during which time they both groaned and cried out loud, completely
unmindful of whether or not there was anyone else in the house…

They lay together on one side of the bed, because the other was still soaked with her juices.

“Now I’m really mad at you,” she said.

“Mad? Why?”

“Because if you hadn’t resisted me, we could have had a night like this already.”

“Well,” he said, holding her close, “this one is far from over, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes,” she said, snuggling up to him, “far from over…”

The next two weeks of campaigning went like that, meetings and lunches and suppers during the day, and sex at night. Mrs. Bigelow gave Carla long frowns every morning when she came down with Clint for breakfast. Of course the woman knew Carla was spending her nights there, but she never said a word.

It was also obvious that Julius knew, but he went about his duties each day without saying a word, or casting a disapproving glance. Clint still didn’t know where he went or what he did when he was off duty—if, in fact, he was ever off duty.