Further Adventures of James Butler Hickok (9781101601853) (16 page)

FIFTY-SEVEN

Clint killed the hours between lunch and supper by staying in his room and reading. He decided to stay away from the saloons. That way he wouldn't get involved in anything—like a poker game—that might make him forget his appointment. He was very curious to meet the other lord, as well as the woman—a lady perhaps?

Lord Greybrook had seemed a very easygoing, amiable gent. Clint wondered if the other one, Lord Temple, was the same. And if they were easygoing, did they stay that way, or was it only when things were going their way? What would happen, for instance, if—God forbid—one of them actually had to load his own gun?

When it came close to supper time, he washed up, dressed in his best clothes, and left the room to go down to the lobby to meet Hickok and the hunting party. When he got there, he only saw Hickok, who was also decked out in his finest, with his hair glistening and his mustache looking glorious.

“Bill,” Clint said, “my God, this woman must be lovely. Look at you.”

“I always look like this,” Hickok said.

“I don't think so.”

“Lately,” Hickok said. “Come on, they went to the restaurant and I waited for you.”

As they left the hotel, Clint asked, “Where are we eating?”

“Someplace the desk clerk told the lords about.”

They walked several blocks before they came to O'Grady's Irish Pub.

“A pub?” Clint asked.

“It means saloon,” Hickok said.

They walked, found it was more than a saloon. It was a full restaurant, with white tablecloths on the tables. Toward the back they saw their party—the two lords and their lady.

A man in a black suit approached them but Hickok said, “That's all right, partner, we see our friends.”

“Aren't you Wild Bill Hickok?” the middle-aged man asked.

“I am.”

“It's a pleasure to have you in our place, Mr. Hickok.”

“Thanks. We'd like to join our friends now.”

“Of course.”

They walked across the floor to the table. As they got closer, Clint saw that the woman became more and more beautiful.

“Ah, gentlemen,” Lord Greybrook said, standing up. “Please join us. This is Lord Temple, and the Lady Antonia Bates. Cedric, Antonia, this is Mr. Clint Adams, and this gentleman is our guide, the famed Wild Bill Hickok.”

“It's a great pleasure to meet you,” Lord Temple said.

“A privilege, gentlemen,” Antonia said, only she was looking directly at Clint, and not at all at Hickok.

“Sit, sit,” Lord Greybrook said, “there are no British pubs in Kansas City, but the desk clerk told us about this Irish one.”

There were two available chairs, on either side of the table. Clint ended up sitting directly across from Antonia.

“Pubs,” Hickok said. “Where does that word come from?”

“Oh, in England we call them public houses,” Temple said, “hence the sobriquet ‘pubs.'”

Hickok looked at Clint with a deadpan expression. Clint knew he'd never heard the word “sobriquet” but was able to figure out what it meant.

“I am afraid we went ahead and ordered for everyone,” Lord Greybrook said. “Shepherd's pie.”

“Pie for supper?” Hickok asked.

“They don't have Yorkshire pudding,” Lord Temple said.

“Pudding?” Hickok asked.

“Wait until the shepherd's pie comes, Mr. Hickok,” Antonia said. “You will see.”

A waiter came and set down five huge glasses of beer.

“Thank you,” Lord Greybrook said.

“Yes, sir. Your food will be here in a moment.”

“Mr. Hickok,” Lord Temple said, “have you properly outfitted us for our hunt tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir, but are you sure you wouldn't want to pick out your own horses?”

“No, no,” Temple said, “we completely trust your judgment when it comes to the horses.”

“Now the weapons,” Greybrook said. “We brought our own. When it comes to weapons, we trust no one.”

“That's a good rule,” Hickok said.

Two waiters came to the table carrying steaming plates and set them down. Hickok almost poked the white substance on the top with his finger, but resisted.

“Those are potatoes, Mr. Hickok,” Antonia said, “mashed potatoes. Beneath them you will find beef and all kinds of vegetables.”

“Sounds good,” Hickok said, still a bit dubious.

“It is,” Clint said. “I had it once when I was in London.”

“Well, what is it you Yanks say?” Temple asked. “Dig in?”

FIFTY-EIGHT

It was obvious from the first bite that Hickok liked the shepherd's pie. He ate every bit of it, then used some bread to soak up all of the brown gravy.

“I assume you enjoyed that, Mr. Hickok?” Antonia asked.

Hickok looked up at her, his mouth full of bread.

“Excuse my manners, ma'am,” he said. “I'm really not used to eatin' with a lady.”

“It's all right, Mr. Hickok,” she assured him. “It is gratifying to see a man enjoy his food.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And you, Mr. Adams?” she asked.

“I thought it was good.”

“Not as good as at home,” Lord Greybrook said, “but it will do.”

“Oh, Edward,” Lord Temple said, “I thought it was quite good.”

“It was . . . fine,” Greybrook said. He was apparently harder to please than his countryman and countrywoman.

After the food, they had more beer, and coffee. Clint and Hickok had some pie—real pie—but the two lords only had more beer, while the lady had a cup of tea.

“Mr. Adams,” Greybrook said, “I told Edward and Antonia that I invited you to join us on our hunt.”

“Yes,” Antonia said, “we both think it's a wonderful idea.”

“Will you be hunting, ma'am?” Clint asked.

“But of course,” she said. “Do you think I came all this way just to watch?”

“Antonia can outshoot most men,” Temple said proudly.

Clint still hadn't figured out which lord she was with.

“Well,” Clint said, “that would be interesting to watch.”

“By all means,” she said, “come along and watch.”

He noticed the two lords and lady watching him intently, while Hickok concentrated on his apple pie.

“Well, I guess I will.”

“Mr. Hickok,” Lord Greybrook said, “you will need to add to our outfit for Mr. Adams.”

“Nope,” Hickok said.

“What do you mean, no?” Greybrook asked.

“He means he already figured I was going,” Clint said. “He outfitted with me in mind.”

Hickok grinned.

“Excellent,” Greybrook said. “What time shall we start?”

“Early,” Hickok said, “just after first light.”

“We will be ready,” Temple said.

“Let's settle the bill and return to the hotel,” Greybrook said to Temple. “We have guns to clean.”

“By the way,” Clint said, “I understood there were two more of you. Why weren't they here to eat with us?”

“Oh, you mean our porters,” Greybrook said. “They carry our weapons, and load them, but they do not eat with us.”

“I see.”

“You have servants in your country, don't you, Mr. Adams?” Lady Antonia asked.

“We used to,” he said. “They were called slaves. We fought a war to free them.”

“We do not have slaves, sir,” Temple said. “We pay them good wages.”

“They just have to eat by themselves, is that it?” Clint asked.

“They eat with each other,” Greybrook said, “as we do. They accept their place.”

“I see,” Clint said.

“Do you?” Lady Antonia asked.

“Yes,” Clint said, returning her look, “I believe I do.”

* * * 

After the lords paid the bill, they all left the restaurant.

“Edward, I'd like to take a walk around the town,” Antonia said.

“Cedric and I need to see to the guns, my dear,” Greybrook said. “So do you.”

“I will,” she said. “When I get back.”

“This ain't a place for a lady like you to be walking alone, Miss Antonia,” Hickok said.

“I won't be alone,” she said. “Mr. Adams will walk with me. Won't you, Mr. Adams?”

“If that's what you'd like, Lady Antonia,” he said, “of course.”

“Thank you, sir.” She looked at the two lords. “I will see you both back at the hotel.”

“Very well, Antonia,” Temple said.

“See you later, Bill.”

“At the saloon,” Hickok said.

Clint nodded, extended his arm to Lady Antonia, and they began to walk.

FIFTY-NINE

Antonia was interested in seeing as much of Kansas City as she could in that one walk. Clint had been there a few times before, so he was able to show her some of the city.

While they walked, they talked hunting, which led them to talk about guns.

“What kind of gun are you using?”

“I use a Westley Richards double rifle.”

“Double?”

“It has side-by-side barrels,” she said. “It's used mostly in Africa, for big game, depending on the caliber. You will see tomorrow. Edward and Cedric have their own preferences, as I am sure you do.”

“I used Sharps when I was hunting buffalo,” he said.

“Ah, the Big Fifty?”

“You know your guns.”

“You no longer carry it?”

“Too big for anything else,” he said. “A Big Fifty would cut a man in half.”

“That would certainly kill a man,” she said. “Isn't that what you do? Kill men?”

“As a matter of fact, no, that's not what I do,” he said.

“I am sorry if I insulted you,” she said. “All I know of you is your reputation. You and your friend, Mr. Hickok. What we have heard across the pond is that you both . . . well, kill men.”

“We have killed men,” Clint said, “but speaking for myself, I have not killed anyone who wasn't trying to kill me.”

“And Mr. Hickok?”

“You'll have to ask him.”

“I have the feeling Mr. Hickok would not appreciate such a question.”

“Probably not,” Clint said, “but he might take it from someone who looks like you.”

“Well, that certainly sounds like a compliment,” she said. “Thank you.”

“I think we should be getting you back to the hotel now, Lady Antonia,” Clint said. “That is what I'm supposed to call you, isn't it?”

“If we were in my country, yes,” she said, “but since we're in your country, you may simply call me Antonia.”

“Thank you, Antonia. Let's go this way.”

At the hotel they parted company in the lobby.

“Thank you for seeing me around town, Mr. Adams.”

“It was my pleasure, Antonia. And I think you should start calling me Clint.”

“I will be seeing you in the morning, Clint.”

* * * 

He watched her go up the stairs, then went over to the saloon, where Hickok was standing at the bar with a glass of whiskey. Clint joined him.

“There you are,” Hickok said. “Drink?”

“A beer,” Clint said.

Hickok waved to the bartender. There were a couple of poker games going on, and Clint was surprised Hickok wasn't in one of them.

“No poker?” he asked.

“Not tonight,” Hickok said. “I'm thinkin'.”

“About what?”

“Two lords and a lady.”

“What about them?”

“You hear all them hunting stories they told at supper?”

“I did.”

“Makes me wonder why they'd wanna come here and hunt buffalo after they've already hunted all that big game in Africa?”

“You think they're here for a different reason, Bill?” Clint asked.

“Maybe,” Hickok replied, “but for the life of me, I can't figure it out.”

“Maybe they're planning to hunt for Indians after all.”

“They come up against some Comanches or Kiowa,” Hickok said, “I guess we'll find out just what kind of hunters they really are.”

“Maybe we will.”

SIXTY

The next morning Clint and Hickok were waiting out in front of the hotel with the horses when the two lords and the lady came out. All three looked refreshed and rested. They were wearing some pretty fancy hunting clothes, expensive jackets and trousers, not to mention leather boots. It was early, the weather was brisk, and Clint and Hickok were also wearing jackets.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Lord Greybrook said.

“Mornin',” Hickok said.

“Fine-looking Western steeds,” Lord Temple said.

Clint agreed. Hickok had gotten them some good sturdy horseflesh for this hunt.

“But, my God, look at that one,” Antonia said, pointing to Duke.

“That's Clint's horse,” Hickok said.

“He's fantastic,” Greybrook said. “Would you be willing to sell it?”

“I would not,” Clint said. “Duke and I, we have an understanding. I take care of him, and he takes care of me.”

“He?” Temple asked. “You refer to your horse as ‘he'?”

“Why?” Greybrook asked.

“Because he's a he,” Clint said, “not a she, or it.”

Greybrook took in the seven horses and asked, “No pack animals?”

“No,” Hickok said, “I like to travel light. We have enough supplies in these burlap sacks to keep us out there for a while.”

“What about a wagon for all the game?” Temple asked.

“Yes,” Greybrook said, “the buffalo hides.”

Clint and Hickok exchanged a glance.

“You gonna skin 'em?” Hickok asked.

“Well, no, of course not.”

At that point the other two men—whom Greybrook and Temple referred to as “porters”—joined them, coming from whatever hotel or rooming house they had spent the night in.

“Are your men skinners?” Hickok asked.

“No, indeed.”

“Then if we pile up some dead buffs, we'll send somebody back out to skin 'em and bring 'em in.”

“Are you saying there is a possibility we will not find any buffalo?”

“There's always that possibility,” Hickok said. “There ain't as many out there as there used to be.”

“What about Indians?” Antonia asked.

“What about them?”

“Will we see any?”

“Maybe,” Hickok said. “If they come off the reservation. Maybe they'll see us and we won't see them.”

“That sounds . . . exciting.”

“We better get mounted up,” Clint said.

As they did, Clint noticed that the lords and the lady all carried the double rifles she had told him about. He also noticed the other two members of the party—quiet men in their thirties—were carrying some extra guns on their backs.

As they started out, Clint dropped back to the two men, who were trailing, and said, “I'm Clint Adams.”

“Happy to meet you, sir,” one of them said. “My name is Daniel Collins.”

“I am Will Sutton, sir,” the other said.

“Either of you boys shoot?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Collins said. “We just carry the guns.”

“And load them.”

“I guess what I should have asked was,
can
either of you shoot?”

“Oh, yes, sir, we can shoot,” Collins said.

“Hit what you shoot at?”

Sutton smiled and said, “Usually, sir.”

“Good to know,” Clint said, “just in case.”

“In case of what, sir?” Sutton asked.

“Surprises,” Clint said. He rode back up to the front of the group, alongside Hickok.

“I don't like these jaspers much,” Hickok said.

“Easy to see why,” Clint said.

“What about those other two?”

“They seem okay,” Clint said. “And they claim they can shoot, if they have to.”

“That's good to know.”

“Where are we taking them?” Clint asked.

Hickok looked at Clint, who immediately thought his friend had something up his sleeve.

“You're going to run them around, aren't you?”

“Why give them a shot at our buffalo?”

“You're a bad man, Bill,” Clint said. “What about getting paid?”

“Once we get out there, I'll make them pay first,” Hickok said.

“And if they don't want to?”

“Hell,” Hickok said, “we'll leave 'em out there, let the Kiowa have 'em.”