“What about now that your partner is dead?” Clint asked. “Are you willing to help us?”
“He's not my partner,” she said vehemently. Slowly, a bit of hope shone in her eyes. “Is he really dead?”
Clint straightened up, reached for a bundle wedged beneath his shirt and waistband, and then tossed the bundle to the ground. The nickel-plated .44 landed with a solid thump.
Rosa started to reach for it, but quickly pulled her hand back.
“Go on and take a look,” Clint said. “It's not loaded.”
She reached for it again. This time, however, her hand stopped less than an inch shy of grabbing the handle. Gritting her teeth, she took hold of the gun and seemed almost too weak to pick it up. Once she hefted its weight, she turned it over and looked at the sapphire embedded into the grip.
“It's really his gun,” she said. “He must be dead.”
“Isn't that what I told you?” Clint asked.
Handing the pistol back, she looked up at Clint with wide, tear-streaked eyes. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to answer some questions. But not here. We've got some riding to do before it gets dark.”
SIXTEEN
Rosa had her hands tied to the saddle horn of her horse. Actually, it wasn't her horse, but one of the animals that had been pulling Johnny's wagon. She did a good job of keeping her balance, but it took a good deal of concentration as the terrain started to get more and more uneven. “Where are you taking me?” she asked while shifting to keep from falling.
Johnny rode beside her with his reins in one hand and his rifle in the other. Rosa's reins were tied around his saddle horn. “We're going to get my wagon, if you must know,” he replied. “After that, I'm finishing up my business.”
“You mean we're going back to that bank? Are you sure that's a good idea?”
“You don't have a say in it,” Johnny snapped. “I'll do what I need to do and I don't need your say-so to do it!”
From behind both of them, Clint shouted, “We're not going to that bank.”
Johnny's head snapped back so quickly that it almost looked like it was going to come off his shoulders. “What?”
“There are plenty of other banks in the country, Johnny. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, but my money's in . . .” Johnny paused and shot a glance over to Rosa. “You know.”
“So does she, remember? No need to speak in codes.”
After grumbling incoherently under his breath, Johnny said, “Well, I don't like this idea. That bank is a damn good one and I want a place I can trust.”
“And what if something happened to that bank?” Clint asked. “Like, for example, an assassin tried to kill you walking into it one day?”
“Smart ass.”
“It's a good idea to use more than one bank. Believe me, I've been doing it for years. Keeps the bad element like that lady over there and her friends from getting their hands on your valuables.”
“Do you know a place I can trust?”
“I've got one in mind right now, as a matter of fact.”
“What about her?” Johnny asked as he nodded toward Rosa. “What if she gets word as to where the rest of her assassin friends should go next?”
Rosa hung her head low, but didn't say a word in her own defense.
“She won't tell anybody about it,” Clint said confidently.
That brought a similar look of surprise to both of the others' faces. The only difference was that Rosa also had a touch of fear in her eyes.
After letting those previous words sink in, Clint added, “Because she'll be in jail by then. But first, she's going to talk to us about her assassin friends.”
Rosa shifted in her saddle so she could look at Clint. It wasn't easy because of the ropes tying her wrists, but she was able to see Clint's face when she asked, “Are you going to set me free if I tell you enough?”
“No.”
“Then why should I say anything else?”
“Because,” Clint replied, “there are plenty of different types of jails you can go to. I could take you to the U.S. Marshals, who I know work down to the letter of the law, or I could take you to a few sheriffs I know who don't hinder themselves as much with rules and regulations.”
Johnny looked over to Clint as well. He studied Clint's face to see if he could tell how much of what Clint was saying was actually going to be backed up by action. He got as much information from Clint's expression as Rosa did, which was absolutely none.
“Even someone who rides along with killers should know the type of men I'm talking about,” Clint said. “They'd be the sort of lawmen who your friend with the fancy gun would have avoided like the plague because they tend to take walks when the vigilantes come by. They're the kind who may even save themselves the trouble of a court trial by just cleaning out their cells since they know the people in them will hang either way.”
Having kept his face relatively blank until now, Clint met Rosa's stare directly and put an icy edge into his voice when he said, “They're also the type who'd love to know they had a real assassin in their jail. Killers like that make them look real good, come election time. I don't even think they'd mind if you pulled the trigger or just came along for the ride. Some lawmen hate people like you even more. Your friend was doing a job. You were just along for the ride and watching innocent folks die.”
Finally, Rosa couldn't take any more. “Enough,” she said as she took her eyes off of Clint and lowered her head. “I don't want to hear any more.”
“Then tell me something I want to hear.”
“Like what?”
“Start with the name of your partner.”
“Franco Dominguez,” she replied softly.
“All right. Now, who hired you to kill me and Johnny?”
“They didn't hire me,” she said softly.
When Clint spoke again, the edge was no longer in his voice. In fact, he seemed comforting as he corrected himself. “Sorry. I meant when they hired your . . . employer.”
Rosa looked up to find Clint riding directly beside her now. He smiled and nodded to let her know that she was out of harm's way for the moment.
“What was his name?” Clint asked.
Rosa kept her head hung low. The only movement she made was due to the horse moving beneath her.
“What about your name?” Clint asked.
After a few seconds, she uttered, “Rosa.”
“Do yourself and me a favor, Rosa. Tell me who hired Franco's services, so this whole mess can be through.”
Closing her eyes, Rosa let out a breath as if she was convinced it would be her last. “His name was Galloway. That's all I remember.”
“That's plenty,” Clint said.
SEVENTEEN
They rode all day and a little into the night. When Clint finally signaled for them to make camp, Johnny and Rosa were both about ready to drop over from exhaustion. It hadn't been a rough ride, but they'd spent every waking moment tensed up and ready for trouble. Rosa was ready to feel the sting of Johnny's rifle, and Johnny was ready for her to make a break for freedom.
As the fire sputtered beneath the remnants of their hastily prepared supper, Johnny stretched out and immediately drifted to sleep. That left Clint sitting with his back to a tree and a dented cup of coffee in his hand. His eyes never strayed far from Rosa, even as she laid on her side and tried to get some sleep.
After less than an hour, she woke up again. Rosa turned to look at Clint and found him still sipping his coffee. “How do you do it?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Keep your eyes open after everything that happened today.”
“Because I have to.”
“I'm not going anywhere.” Holding up her hands, which were still tied at the wrists, she tugged on the rope that connected her wrists to another tree. “See?”
“Better safe than sorry.”
Rosa got her legs beneath her and walked toward Clint. She didn't even make it to the fire before she literally reached the end of her rope. “Could you come over here?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Because I'd like to talk rather than shout.”
Rather than make her insist any more, Clint got up and moved closer to her. He sat down just outside of her reach. “What do you want to say?”
“Just that I'm not as bad as you think I am.”
“How do you know what I'm thinking?” Clint asked.
“I can see it in your eyes. You and your friend think I'm just as bad as Franco.”
“Say whatever you want about being forced or doing what you needed to do, the both of you did try to kill us.”
“I know and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
Sipping his coffee and blinking once, Clint asked, “Is that all you wanted to say?”
All of the wind was taken from Rosa's sails, causing her shoulders to slump and her head to hang low as it had when they'd been riding. “I guess. I just . . . I just don't want to hang for sharing a bed with a killer.”
“You'll be handed over to honest lawmen and you'll get a fair trial. That's all I can guarantee you.”
“Will you testify for me?” she asked hopefully.
Clint chuckled under his breath. “I doubt that would help your case much.”
“You could tell them what you saw. You know I wasn't the one firing at you. Franco was the one who ambushed you, and he was the one waiting to kill your friend. That's the truth and you know it.”
“If I'm asked to testify, I will.”
She smiled and nodded. “Thank you. I know it would help.”
“Now why don't you get some sleep?”
Despite the fact that she could barely hold her head up or keep her eyes open, Rosa would not lay down. “Will you stay close until the trial?”
“Look . . . I'll do what I can, butâ”
“Please. You need to stay close or they'll kill me.”
“Who will?”
“The people Franco worked for,” Rosa replied.
Clint sighed and finished his last sip of coffee before tossing the cup to the saddlebag laying nearby. “It's too late for this, Rosa. Whatever you're trying to sell me, it won't be enough for me to let you go.”
“I'm not trying to sell you anything and I'm not trying to get you to let me go.” Shaking her head, Rosa added, “I'm probably safer here with you than anywhere else. Including jail.”
“Who's got you so frightened?”
“I don't even know how many of them there are. All I do know is that they're a group of killers who are some of the best money can buy. They call themselves the Sapphire Club.”
“Sounds like a saloon I went to in Nevada.”
“Not many people even know them by that name. The only time I heard about it was when Franco was bragging about where he got his gun. He told me he was one of the best they had, and if I ever thought about turning against him, they would come for me even if he couldn't.
“Some nights, I thought about killing him when he slept,” Rosa confided. “But . . . then I thought about how far I would have to run just to get away from those others. Franco was bad, but I knew I could eventually get him to let me go. Those others are ruthless.”
“How do you know for certain?”
“Because they were the only ones who Franco ever had any faith in. Sometimes, I even think he was scared of them.”
“Do you know where I can find these others?” Clint asked.
Rosa nodded. “I know where they would meet Franco to give him his jobs.” Lifting her chin a bit, she added, “I can take you there.”
“Why don't you tell me where it is?”
Although Rosa started to speak, she bit her lip and quickly shook her head. “Not unless I know you can protect me.”
“All right, then. We can wait until you're safe and sound, surrounded by some lawmen who can protect you no matter what gets thrown at you. The place we're headed has just those sorts of men. You'll like them.”
Clint got up and walked back to the spot where he'd been sitting before. He didn't let Rosa out of his sight, but he also didn't engage her in any more conversation. He merely stayed put, watched the camp, and kept quiet until it was time for Johnny to wake up and take his place.
Â
The next morning, Clint woke up and immediately checked on the other two. Rosa was laying on her side with her back to him and Johnny was using a small mirror and a straightedge to shave himself.
“You're up early,” Johnny said. “I wasn't gonna wake you for another few hours.”
Clint walked a few more steps from the camp and motioned for Johnny to follow him. Lowering his voice, Clint said, “Rosa and I had a little talk last night.”
Stopping in mid-stroke, Johnny took the blade from his cheek and asked, “What about?”
Clint filled him in on the details while making sure Rosa wasn't watching them. He also kept his voice down so she couldn't hear enough to put too much together. By the time he was finished, Johnny was wiping his razor against his knee to clean it off.
“What should we do about this?” Johnny asked.
“I just thought you'd want to know. There might be some interested parties once word gets out that Franco missed his mark.”
“Do you think I should go after them?”
Clint smiled and tried not to look too amused by that prospect. “No. I was thinking that you might want to do some traveling until this blows over. Once it's clear that you and your gold are long gone, any hired guns will cut their losses and take another paying job rather than devote their lives to finding one that got away.”