Way with a Gun (10 page)

“Hey,” Clint said, “as soon as I took a hand in this game, my life was at risk as much as yours. A few hundred dollars isn't so much when you think of it that way.”

“I guess not.”

“Let's work the part of town we haven't worked yet,” Clint said. “Now we can say we have a few guns, maybe we can scare up a few more.”

“Naw,” Taylor said. “We're headin' for a bunch of storekeepers now.”

“What about talking to the mayor?”

“He ain't gonna pick up a gun,” Taylor said. “He's a politician through and through.”

“Maybe we should let him know what we're doing,” Clint said. “After all, he is the mayor, and he should know if his town's going to be shot up.”

“You know,” Taylor said, “I think that's a good idea. Let's go tell him his town's gonna be shot up and see what he does.”

“Maybe he'll send for some federal marshals to help out,” Clint said.

“May not be time for that,” Taylor said, “but I'd at least like to scare his fat ass. City Hall's this way.”

“That's ridiculous,” Mayor Sam Bennett said.

He sat behind his desk, hadn't even bothered to stand up to shake hands with Clint. Of course, that might have been because he was wedged in behind his desk by his girth, which was considerable.

“What do you mean ridiculous?” Taylor asked. “I'm tellin' you, when Pine and his men get here, there's gonna be a war.”

“Pine is an outlaw,” Bennett said, “and he may be crazy, but this is his hometown. He's coming after you, Sheriff, not the whole town. I'd like to help you, I really would, but as I see it, this is your problem.”

“I think you're looking at this totally wrong, Mayor,” Clint said.

“Mr. Adams, I know your reputation,” Bennett said. “What's your interest in this? Andy here can't be paying you, not on his salary.”

“I'm just trying to help,” Clint said. “I can't stand by and let a lawman get shot down.”

“A fair fight.” Bennett raised one pudgy forefinger to make his point. “Ned Pine said he wants Andy in a fair fight. As I see it, it's Andy's job to oblige him.”

“You know,” Clint said, “the sheriff can just pack up and leave town. What do you think would happen then?”

“I know what would happen then,” Bennett said. “Pine would get here, find the sheriff gone, and go have something to eat, maybe visit some family. And we'd appoint a new sheriff, somebody who'd know better than to get Ned Pine mad at him.”

“I was doin' my job,” Andy Taylor said, “keepin' the peace.”

“Pine and his men might have shot up some store windows, done a little damage that night, nothing we couldn't handle,” Bennett said. “You went off half-cocked and tossed him in a cell. If he wasn't drunk, do you think you would have been able to do that? That's what got him so mad that he wants to face you while he's sober. Doesn't seem like such an unreasonable request to me.”

“Are you really this naive?” Clint asked. “Do you really think Pine and his boys won't do worse than shoot up some windows?”

“Like I said,” Bennett said. “He's a hometown boy. He lives here.”

“He's an outlaw,” Clint said. “He doesn't live anywhere.”

“Mr. Adams,” Bennett said, “what I would suggest is that you leave town and let the sheriff here do his job when Ned Pine gets here. I think that would be best for everyone concerned.”

“I'm not leaving town, Mayor,” Clint said. “You're going to see how wrong you are, and I want to be here when you do.”

“I suppose we'll find out who's right and who's wrong when Ned Pine gets here then.”

“I suppose we will,” Clint said, and followed the sheriff outside.

On the street, he said, “He actually sounds like he's proud of Pine.”

“Maybe he is,” Taylor said.

“Why would that be?”

“Oh, I didn't tell you?” Taylor said. “The mayor is Ned's uncle.”

“I thought the
old
mayor was Ned's uncle,” Clint said, confused.

“The old mayor is Ned's uncle on his father's side,” Taylor said. “The present mayor is Ned's uncle on his mother's side.”

“What are the two mayors to each other?”

“Brothers-in-law . . . I think.”

“Okay,” Clint said, “just tell me this—are you in any way related to any of them?”

“No,” Taylor said. “I wasn't born here.”

“Okay, that's good,” Clint said. “I wouldn't want to get in the middle of a family feud.”

“You're not.”

“But wait . . . your wife.”

“Also not born here.”

“Okay,” Clint said. “Let me take a breath. If Ransom comes up with two more men, we'll be five.”

“Five against . . . at least twelve.”

“That's not so bad,” Clint said. “It would all depend on position.”

“How?”

“Well, Pine wants you in the street,” Clint said. “So we pick the street.”

“Which one?”

“One that we can cover from rooftops,” Clint said. “If we can get the whole gang in the street, then we can catch them from all sides. Then we'll have another thing on our side.”

“What's that?”

“Two things,” Clint said, correcting himself. “The element of surprise, and the fact that they won't know how many we are.”

“That sounds good.”

“There's just one thing.”

“What's that?”

“Through all of this you'll have to be standing in the street—alone.”

“Well,” Taylor said, rubbing his jaw, “it's like the mayor said. It's my job.”

“All right,” Clint said. “We've got time before we have to meet Ransom. Let's try to scare up another man or two and, at the same time, show me a street that we can use.”

“I'll think on it while we're walkin',” Taylor promised.

As Taylor had predicted, they did not come up with anyone else who wanted to help. They all had the same answer. “That's your job, isn't it, Sheriff?”

They had some supper—in a different café—and discussed other possibilities.

“What about your old deputies?” Clint asked. “The ones who quit. Think we can get them back with me involved?”

“I doubt it,” Taylor said. “They were pretty scared when they heard what was gonna happen.”

“What about some other young men in town?” Clint asked.

“Whataya mean by young?” Taylor asked.

“Seventeen, eighteen,” Clint said, “even some kids we could use as lookouts. We're going to need some warning when Pine and his boys are approaching.”

“We can get some boys,” Taylor said, “as long we only use them as lookouts and don't expect them to handle a gun.”

“No gunplay,” Clint said, “but we can use all the help we can get.”

“I know a couple of good boys,” Taylor said. “Their mothers may not be thrilled, but
they
will.”

“Good,” Clint said. “We might as well check on Ransom and see what he got us.”

They paid their bill and headed for the saloon.

As they entered, Clint saw that the place was not doing much business, even at what was considered peak hours for saloons. The larger places in town no doubt commanded most of the business. He liked the fact that he and the sheriff had the place largely to themselves, though.

Ransom was standing at the bar with two other men approximately his age. They did not stand with his confidence, though. There was more of a swagger in their demeanor that they had not yet earned. Other than those three and the bartender, there were only two other men, and both of their heads were drooping into their beer mugs as they sat at their tables.

As Clint and the sheriff entered, Ransom straightened and nudged both of the other men. They remained slouched at the bar, as if they didn't have a care in the world.

“Ransom,” Taylor said.

“Sheriff,” Ransom said, “Adams. This is Ed Kale, and that's Billy Delaney.”

Now the two men straightened up. They were ignoring the sheriff, both looking at Clint.

“Boys, you know the sheriff,” Ransom said. “And this is Clint Adams.”

Now the men seemed to lose their arrogance and become a bit nervous.

“Mr. Adams,” Kale said.

“Sir,” Delaney said.

Clint looked at the sheriff, but the lawman seemed content to let him take the lead.

“I assume Joe has filled you in on what's going on?” Clint said.

“We know what's goin' on,” Kale said. “Ned Pine's gonna kill the sheriff.” Kale looked at Taylor. “No offense, Sheriff.”

“None taken.”

“He means to kill the sheriff,” Clint corrected. “If he does it, we mean to see that he does it alone. Do you understand?”

“Sure,” Delaney said. “You don't want any of Ned's men back-shootin' the sheriff.”

“You got it right then,” Clint said. “Get yourselves fresh beers and have a seat at a table. We'll be right with you to talk some strategy.”

The two men eagerly accepted their fresh beers and walked to a table.

“Sit at one in the back,” Ransom shouted, and they obeyed.

“Tell me about them,” Clint said to Ransom.

“They're okay,” Ransom said. “Not real good boys, but okay.”

“Couldn't get anyone else?” Taylor asked.

“Nobody wanted to go against Pine and his boys,” Ransom said, “not even with the Gunsmith. Oh, and I had to promise them a hundred dollars each.”

“That's too much,” Taylor said.

“It probably is, but it's fine,” Clint said. “Can they hit what they shoot at?”

Ransom hesitated, and then said, “If it's not movin' around too much.”

“Oh, great,” Taylor said.

“Never mind,” Clint said. “Let's just talk to them and see if they can take orders. Let's get some beers and join them.”

“I got one,” Ransom said, and walked over to sit with the men.

“This ain't good,” Taylor said.

“Maybe not,” Clint said, “but it's what we've got.”

The best thing Clint could think to say about Kale and Delaney was that they seemed willing and able to take orders.

“Get to bed early tonight,” he told them. “We're going to be up bright and early tomorrow morning to get ourselves ready. As of tomorrow, Pine and his boys could ride in at any time.”

“How we gonna know?” Kale asked.

“We're going to get some lookouts,” Clint said.

“Who?” Delaney asked. “I didn't sign on to be no lookout. I want in on the action.”

“The sheriff is going to take care of signing on the lookouts,” Clint said. “You boys just make sure your guns are clean.”

“I take care of my hardware,” Kale said.

“Glad to hear it,” Clint said. “Now get out of here and see to it.”

“We'll see you in the morning,” Taylor said. “First light, right in front of here.”

“I got a question,” Kale said as he and Delaney stood up.

“What's that?” Clint asked.

“Ransom here hired us on,” he said, “but who's the ramrod of this outfit?”

“That's Sheriff Taylor,” Clint said, pointing to the lawman. “What he says goes.”

“Okay,” Delaney said. “Just so we know.”

The two men turned to leave, and at that moment the batwings swung in and a mountain entered. At least, it looked like a mountain and it blocked the entire doorway.

“Jesus,” Kale said. “Winston.”

Kale and Delaney looked at Clint. They'd heard about what had happened between him and the big man.

“He's carryin',” Delaney said.

“You boys just get out,” Clint said. “We'll handle this.”

Kale and Delaney had to turn sideways to get out the door, because Winston never moved. He just stood there, staring at Clint.

“What about you?” Clint asked Joe Ransom. “Want to leave?”

“I wanna stay,” he said with a smile. “This should be interesting.”

Taylor started to get up, but Clint said, “Stay seated, Sheriff. Don't spook him.”

Taylor sat back down as Winston started over to their table. When he reached them, he ignored the sheriff and Ransom and stared at Clint.

“Winston,” Clint said. “I want to apologize for last night. I had too much to drink—”

“Ain't got to apologize,” the big man said. “You whipped me. My shins still hurt, and my jaw aches.” He rubbed it. “Doc thinks it broke.” He was talking with his jaw clenched. “I just think it's sore.”

“Well, can you have a beer?” Clint asked.

“I heard you was lookin' for guns,” the big man said, ignoring the question. “Gonna stand against Ned Pine and his gang.”

“That's right.”

“This all ya got?” he asked, indicating the other two men at the table.

“And the two who just left,” Clint said. “Five in all.”

“Well,” Winston said, “I ain't got no feelings about Pine one way or the other, but I'd be proud to stand with ya, Mr. Adams.”

“Why would you want to do that, Winston?”

“Ya whipped me,” Winston said. “No man's ever done that before. And I didn't know who you was last night. Now I do, and it's an honor to be whipped by ya. So if you'll have me, I'd like ta stand with ya.”