Town of Two Women (9781101612125) (11 page)

THIRTY-SIX

Tolbert sat in the window of his hotel room, watching the main street. He saw Clint Adams visit the sheriff, then disappear for a while before reappearing and entering City Hall to see Eric Locksley. In between he would have been collecting as much information as possible on Wes Tolbert.

But that didn't matter. Let Adams collect as much knowledge as he could. It was all in Tolbert's gun, and in his plans. He had to be sure that when it was all over, he had Angela and all the Locksley money. He was going to need some backup before he faced Clint Adams, to be on the safe side.

Let Adams sweat for a day or so.

Clint got back to Doc's without running up against Wes Tolbert.

“Oh, God,” Mary said as he walked in. She hugged him. “I was so worried.”

“I didn't hear any shooting,” Doc Mathis said.

“No shooting, just a lot of talking,” Clint said.

“Who'd you talk to?”

“Everybody,” Clint said. “I ended up gabbing with Max over at the Dry Wash.”

“Max knows everything about everybody in town,” Mathis said.

“Well, he gave me some knowledge about Wes Tolbert, both generally known and not so generally known.”

“Like what?”

“Like Tolbert and Mrs. Locksley.”

“Well,” Mary said, “good for her.”

“But maybe not so good for us,” Clint said. “It's bad enough when a man is doing a job for money, but if he's doing it for love . . .”

“Love?” Mary asked. “Angela? I don't think so. Sex, maybe, but there also has to be something else in it for her.”

“Like her husband's money?” Clint asked.

“The money's already hers,” Doc said. “I think she's more interested in getting her husband's power. She can't have complete control over the town until he dies.”

“And with all the bullets that might be flying around,” Clint said, “who's to say one won't hit Locksley?”

THIRTY-SEVEN

Wes Tolbert waited at a back table in the Dry Wash Saloon with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. He also had a beer in front of him. None of the whiskey glasses would be used until his friends arrived.

A saloon girl came over and asked, “Another beer, Wes?”

“Sure, Liz. Bring me a nice cold one.”

“What about the whiskey?” she asked. “You gonna drink it?”

“I will, real soon.”

Liz turned and walked away. Beyond her, Tolbert saw the batwings open. Dan Cutter and Billy Aaron walked in. Cutter looked around, spotted him, and nudged Aaron. They crossed the floor, pushing two men out of the way.

“Hey, Wes,” Cutter said.

“Dan,” Tolbert said. “Have a seat.”

The two men sat.

“Billy,” Tolbert said. “Whiskey?”

“Don't mind if I do.”

Tolbert poured the three glasses full and they all drank. Nobody spoke until he filled them again.

“What's this all about, Wes?” Cutter asked. “You come across a job you need our help fer?”

“I did,” Tolbert said.

“That don't happen much,” Aaron said. “You can pretty much handle anybody.”

“I still can,” Tolbert said. “I'm just looking for a little insurance.”

“The kind we get paid for?” Cutter asked.

“That's right, Dan,” Tolbert said, “the kind you get paid for.”

“How much?” Aaron asked.

“We'll get to that later,” Tolbert said. “First, you boys should know who I'm going up against.”

“And who's that?” Cutter asked.

“Clint Adams,” Tolbert said, and then just in case they didn't get it, he added, “The Gunsmith.”

Cutter stared at Tolbert for a few moments, then grabbed the bottle and poured three glasses again.

“This job's gonna pay good,” he said, clinking glasses with Billy Aaron.

“What do we gotta do?” Aaron asked.

“For now,” Tolbert said, “all you've got to do is listen . . .”

*   *   *

It was getting late—dusk—and Locksley hadn't heard any shots yet. He'd been waiting, even when Gina came in to say good night.

“Are you going home, sir?”

“Soon, Gina,” he'd said. “You go ahead.”

Locksley didn't want to be in the street when the shooting started. Now it was getting dark. Would Tolbert try anything in the dark? Probably not.

Time to go home, to the little woman.

*   *   *

Usually, when there was shooting in town, she could hear it from the house. So far, she hadn't heard a thing. Looked as if Tolbert was going to let the day go without getting the job done. Maybe he was planning it for the next.

She went to the kitchen to get supper ready. She liked cooking, and she liked eating, she just didn't like cooking for and eating with her husband. Maybe it would only be a day or two more, and then she'd be on her own. Maybe she would even have her son come back from the East and it would be the two of them for a while.

When it was all over, the only problem would be getting rid of Wes Tolbert.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Doc Mathis once again agreed to allow Clint and Mary to spend the night.

“And this time,” he added, “I'll go and get the food. I don't want Tolbert spotting you in the street and shooting you while you're carrying my steak.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Clint said.

After Doc left to pick up supper, Clint watched Mary make the beds up again for them. After she finished hers, she sat on it and stared at him.

“I'm sorry about all this,” she said.

“It's not your fault.”

“Sure it is,” she said. “If I hadn't got involved with Eric, he wouldn't have had to drive me out of town. I wouldn't've fallen off my horse, and you wouldn't've found me and brought me here. And you wouldn't have to face Tolbert.”

“Believe me, Mary,” Clint said, “Tolbert won't be a problem.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked. “Are you that confident?”

“I'm very confident of my ability with a gun,” he said. “I also came to terms long ago with the fact that I'll probably die by a bullet. But I'm also pretty sure I'll feel the when and where, and this isn't it.”

“Wow,” she said. “I wish I knew when and where I was gonna die.”

“I didn't say I knew it,” he said “I said I'd feel it.”

“And you don't feel it now?”

“No.”

“What if Tolbert doesn't come for you alone?” she asked.

“Well, that'll increase the odds that he'll survive instead of me,” he explained, “but I've faced superior odds before.”

“You should have help.”

“The only people who have been helping have been Doc and Amy, and neither of them is good with a gun,” Clint said.

“I can shoot.”

“When the time comes,” he said, “the best thing the three of you can do is stay out of harm's way. If I have to worry about you, that's when I could get killed.”

“I understand.”

“Don't worry,” he told her. “It'll all be over soon.”

*   *   *

Cutter and Aaron listened intently while Wes Tolbert told them their job. When he was done, he poured the last of the whiskey into their glasses.

“Are you sure that's all you want us to do?” Cutter asked.

“Hey,” Aaron said, “don't change his mind. I'd rather do this than face Clint Adams in the street. That's up to Tolbert.”

“This is the way I want to do it,” Tolbert said. “When this is over, I'm going to end up with a reputation, and with money.”

“And what are we gonna end up with?” Cutter asked.

“A lot of money,” Tolbert said, “and maybe the run of the town. How would you like that? Anything in town you want.”

“What about the law?” Aaron asked.

“The sheriff around here won't be a problem,” Tolbert said. “And the town's already used to bein' run roughshod over.”

Tolbert waved Liz over, and while the saloon had become a lot busier while they'd been there, she saw him and came right over.

“Honey, can you bring me and my friends another bottle?”

“Sure thing, Wes.”

“And three beers,” Cutter said.

“Yeah,” Tolbert said, “three beers.”

“Comin' up.”

Liz was a cute blonde, and when she turned and walked away, they watched her butt twitch, like she was winking at them.

“When you say we can have anythin' in town we want,” Aaron said, “you mean anythin'?”

“Anythin',” Tolbert said.

“What about whoever's payin' you?” Aaron asked.

“He's the one's been runnin' this town up to now,” Tolbert said, “and he's the one you and Dan here are gonna take care of. After that, it's all ours.”

“You got this all figured out?” Cutter asked.

“I got it all figured out, boys,” Tolbert said. “And all I got to do to make it happen is kill the Gunsmith.”

THIRTY-NINE

There was a heavy knock on Doc's door early the next morning, like the knock of an anxious man. Doc answered, found that it was Amy kicking the door with her foot because her hands were full.

“Breakfast,” she announced, entering.

Clint came out of the spare room buttoning his shirt.

“I don't know that I've ever eaten this well,” he commented. “Or had service this good.”

“Don't get too used to it,” she said, setting the tray down. “I can't do it every day.”

“Hopefully,” Clint said, “we're close to the end.”

Mary came out from the other room and smiled at Amy.

“I thought I smelled bacon.”

“Plenty of it,” Amy said. “Enjoy. I got to get back to the café.”

Mathis walked her to the door, closed and locked it behind her.

“Jesus,” he said, “I thought it was trouble when she kicked that door.”

“Trouble wouldn't have knocked,” Clint told him. “Trouble kicks the door in.”

But as they sat down to eat, he knew that trouble was looming. Maybe there was something he could do that day to head it off.

*   *   *

Locksley had gotten into a shouting match the night before with his wife. She wanted something done, kept yelling “Now!” so he rose early the next morning and went to his office without breakfast.

So because he was early, he was surprised when Sheriff Crabtree walked in.

“What do you want this early?” he demanded.

Crabtree took the star off his chest and dropped it on Locksley's desk.

“Get yourself another sheriff,” Crabtree said.

“What's the matter with you?”

“I think you know,” the man said. “Things are about to explode in this town, and I don't want no part of it.”

“You're a coward!”

“You're probably right,” Crabtree said.

“Don't come crawling to me when it's all over and think you'll get this back.”

“That would take a lot of crawling, since I'm leavin' town right now. Good luck.”

Crabtree left and Locksley picked up the badge and fingered it. He made a quick decision, stood up, and left the office. He was going to find Wes Tolbert and pin the badge on him before he made his move on Clint Adams.

*   *   *

Wes Tolbert was coming out of his hotel when he saw Locksley striding purposefully toward him.

“Glad I caught you,” the man said. “Here.”

“What's this?” He looked down at the badge Locksley had jammed into his hand.

“You're the new sheriff.”

“What happened to Crabtree?”

“He retired.”

Tolbert looked down at the badge then back at his boss.

“This might make things a little easier.”

“That's what I was thinking,” Locksley said. “Now whatever you do, you can do in an official capacity.”

Tolbert pinned the badge onto his shirt.

“How do I look?”

“Like a man with a job to do,” Locksley said, “so do it!”

“Where are you gonna be today?” Tolbert asked.

“In my office,” Locksley said. “Why?”

“I'm thinking today's the day.”

“Well then,” Locksley said, “I'll definitely be in my office.”

He turned and headed back to his office. He wanted to be off the street when the shooting started.

*   *   *

The badge felt odd on Tolbert's chest. He'd never even thought about being on this side of the badge.

He turned as his two men, Cutter and Aaron, came out of the hotel.

“What the hell is that on your chest?” Cutter asked.

“I told you yesterday you wouldn't have to worry about the law,” Tolbert said. “Now I'm damn sure of it. The sheriff retired and left town.”

“So you're the new sheriff?” Aaron asked.

“That's right. And another thing. Locksley is gonna be in his office all day, so there's no chance you'll have to go looking for him.”

“So when do we do this?” Cutter asked.

“Stay available,” Tolbert said.

“Like where?” Aaron asked.

“Like right there.” Tolbert pointed to two wooden chairs in front of the hotel.

“What do we do while we wait?”

“Whittle,” Locksley suggested.

FORTY

Clint was on the street when ex-Sheriff Crabtree went riding by. He noticed the man was not wearing his badge.

“Sheriff!”

Crabtree turned, saw Clint, and reined in. Clint stepped into the street.

“Not the sheriff anymore, Adams,” Crabtree said.

“Where are you headed?”

“Away from here,” the ex-lawman said, “before the lead starts flyin'. I don't aim to get between you and Wes Tolbert.”

“So if you're not the law, who is?”

“I don't know,” Crabtree said, “but knowing Locksley, I can guess who he'd pin the badge on.”

“Tolbert?”

Crabtree nodded. “Good luck to you,” he said, and urged his horse forward.

Clint watched the man ride out of town, wondering if Locksley had indeed pinned the badge on Tolbert, and what that would mean in the near—very near—future.

*   *   *

The Dry Wash was Wes Tolbert's saloon of choice, so he decided to pull a wooden chair up in front and wait for Clint Adams to put in an appearance.

*   *   *

Angela Locksley wondered if she should get dressed and go to town to watch the action. She could feel it in the air that today was the day. Her husband had run out early, and she hadn't seen Wes Tolbert since the day before. In the end she decided to take the walk, and to dress for the occasion with trousers, a cotton shirt, boots, and a new hat.

*   *   *

Locksley watched the street from his window. From there he could see the hotel and the saloon, noticed the men seated in front of both locations. He wondered if the two men in front of the hotel were working for Tolbert.

This would be a good vantage point to watch the action from. He folded his arms and waited.

*   *   *

Clint walked down the main street, spotted the glint of metal on the chest of Wes Tolbert, seated in front of the Dry Wash Saloon. He crossed the street and approached the new lawman.

“I see congratulations are in order,” he said.

“Thanks,” Tolbert said. “My first time on this side of the badge.”

“How does it feel?”

Tolbert thought a moment, then said, “Odd.”

“In the market for deputies?”

“Why?” Tolbert asked. “You looking for a job?”

“My badge-wearing days are well behind me,” Clint said. “No, I was just wondering.”

“I haven't been in the job long enough to know yet if I'll need deputies.”

“What's your first bit of business going to be?” Clint asked. “To drive me out of town?”

“Naw,” Tolbert said, “you can stay. The place would be boring without you, wouldn't it?”

“How's your boss feel about that?”

“Mr. Locksley would like me to do the job the best way I know how.”

“That sure doesn't sound like the same man I met,” Clint said.

“He's different men to different people,” Tolbert said.

“That I can believe,” Clint said, “and from what I hear, nobody likes whoever he is to them.”

Tolbert didn't comment on that.

“When are you leaving town?”

“Left alone,” Clint said, “I think I'd be leaving tomorrow.”

“With the girl?”

“That's right,” Clint said, “but I think both you and I know I'm not going to be left alone, right?”

“I'm the law now, Adams,” Tolbert said. “If anybody bothers you, you just let me know.”

“Yeah,” Clint said, “I'll do that.”

Clint backed away a few steps before turning his back and walking away.

*   *   *

Eric Locksley watched from his window as Clint Adams stopped to talk with new Sheriff Tolbert. He expected the encounter to erupt into gunfire, but he was disappointed—especially when Clint Adams turned his back and walked away. That was the perfect opportunity for Tolbert to finish the job.

What the hell was he thinking?

*   *   *

As Clint walked away from the Dry Wash and Sheriff Tolbert, he passed the hotel. Sitting in front were two men. One of them took great pains to look away from him, while the other looked straight at him. Clint touched the brim of his hat as he walked by. He had no doubt that these two were with Tolbert. Obviously, the man had made his decision, decided that he needed backup.

Clint figured he now knew what he was up against.

*   *   *

Aaron asked, “Why are you lookin' at him?”

“The man's a legend, Billy,” Cutter said. “How many times you get to see an actual legend?”

“You ask me,” Aaron said, “this is one time too many.”

*   *   *

Tolbert could have back shot Clint Adams as he was walking away, but how would he manage to make that sound official?

No, he let him walk away, but it wouldn't be long now. Not long at all.