Authors: J. R. Roberts
Out of the Past (3 page)
“Damnit, Halâ”
“Okay, okay, forget it,” Chance said. “Look, they're headin' for the livery stable.”
“Good,” Presser said. “We've got to get to our horses and get ahead of them.”
“Why don't we just trail 'em?” Chance asked.
“Because that's the Gunsmith, Hal,” Presser said. “He'll spot us before we go a mile.”
“He ain't seen us out here,” Chance said.
“You don't think.” Chance frowned. “Come on. Lucky we left our horses at the other livery.”
“We got time for breakfast?” Chance asked as he hurried to keep up with his partner.
Clint inspected the horse Sandy had ridden in from Kansas City. It was a mare that was about ten years old, sturdily built but not something that would be able to keep up with Eclipse if they had to run.
“She'll do,” he said. “It may take us all day to get there, but she'll make it.”
“I like her,” Sandy said, patting the horse's neck.
“Good,” Clint said. “If you like her so much, you can saddle her.”
When they walked their horses outside, Sandy's eyes widened.
“Wow! He's beautiful.”
“Yeah, he is,” Clint said. “This is Eclipse. He was a gift from a very famous man named P.T. Barnum.”
“I heard of him,” she said. “You know him?”
“Yes, I do,” Clint said.
She approached Eclipse and reached out to pat his neck.
“Be careful,” Clint warned. “He doesn't like strangers.”
But Eclipse stood by very quietly as the girl stroked his neck.
“I guess he likes you,” Clint said.
“Sure he does,” she said, “don't you, big boy?”
Her hands were gentle and Eclipse actually closed his eyes while she stroked him.
“Okay,” Clint said, “that's enough of that. You'll put him to sleep. Let's get mounted up.”
“Can I ride him?” she asked.
“I can't let you do that.”
“Why? He won't hurt me.”
“No,” Clint said, “but he might like you so much that he'll hurt me when I try to ride him again.”
SIX
The girl rode well, sat the horse just like her mother did. Clint told her so.
“You think so?” she asked, obviously pleased. “Aunt Sandy and Aunt Katy always said Momma was the best rider of the three of them.”
“What else did they have to say?” Clint asked.
“Well, Aunt Katy told me never to tell Aunt Sandy she said this, but she said my mom was also the brains of the three.”
“I think she was the one with the most ideas,” Clint said.
“And was she the best looking?” Sandy asked. “I mean, Aunt Katy is really pretty . . .”
As Clint remembered, all the women had something to recommend them, and he'd never tell Sandy that he'd been to bed with all three when he first met them. After that, though, it was only Anne he took to his bed when they all crossed trails.
They continued to talk about Sandy's mother while they rode, and from time to time Clint stopped to allow the girl's mare to take a breather. It was about thirty-five miles to Kansas City and Clint knew Eclipse could have covered that much ground in half a day, but he wasn't pushing.
He was enjoying the ride.
Presser and Chance positioned themselves about five miles farther on. They found a good vantage point for an ambush, a place where they could be on high ground and catch the Gunsmith in a cross fire.
“I hate ambushes,” Presser said.
“Why? It's the easiest way to kill a man,” Chance said. “I heard that Wild Bill Hickok shot most of the men he killed from ambush.”
“That's just stupid,” Presser said. “Where did you hear that?”
“I just heard it,” Chance said. “Kinda ironic that he got shot in the back, huh?”
“Hal, I don't even know why I ride with you.”
“Yeah, ya do,” Chance said. “You'd be dead without me.”
Chance left Presser and went to take up his own position on the other side of the road. Presser considered putting a bullet in the back of his partner's head, but the Gunsmith might have heard the shot.
He got comfortable on his stomach with his rifle next to him and waited.
Clint passed his canteen over to Sandy, who took a short drink and passed it back.
“What did your mother tell you about me?”
“Not much,” Sandy said. “She didn't have time.”
They hadn't talked about exactly how her mother had been killed. He didn't want to make her go through it again.
“You ain't asked me how she got killed, exactly,” she said, as if she'd been reading his mind.
“I wasn't sure you want to talk about it.”
“I can tell you she was shot from ambush,” Sandy said. “I heard my aunts say that. She didn't die right away, though, which is why she was able to tell me about youâ but only just.”
“So you came to find me just to see if I was really your father?”
“You're my father,” Sandy said. “My ma told me so. I didn't need to see you to find out.”
“So you just wanted to meet me?”
“Well . . . yeah.”
“But?”
She turned in the saddle and stared at him.
“Mostly,” she said, “I want you to find whoever murdered my mom and kill them.”
Normally, he would have tried to talk her out of that frame of mind. He would have told her that the law had to handle it and bring the killer to justice. But he didn't really feel that way, so why should she?
“You ain't gonna tell me I shouldn't feel that way, are you?”
“You're a little mind reader, aren't you?” he asked. “I was thinking about it, but no, I'm not going to tell you that.”
“Good,” she said, “'cause I ain't gonna change my mind about this. I want whoever killed my mom to die for it.”
“How do your aunts feel?”
“The same, but they won't tell me that.”
“Well, I
will
tell you that,” Clint said. “I want the killer to die, and I'll do my best to make it happen. That's a promise.”
will
tell you that,” Clint said. “I want the killer to die, and I'll do my best to make it happen. That's a promise.”
SEVEN
Clint moved even before the sound of the first shot started echoing. His first instinct was to knock Sandy from her saddle, and then hit the dirt himself. Lead chewed up the ground around him, which confirmed his first thought, that he was the target. It also confirmed that they were in a cross fire.
“Find cover,” he yelled to Sandy, waving. “Stay away from me.”
The horses took off, which was good. They wouldn't be hit by any stray lead.
Clint pulled his gun and looked for cover. He spotted both men and knew instantly that they'd made a mistake in their choice of location. There was cover for him on the right side of the road in what looked like a small dry wash, and from that position the man firing from that direction wouldn't be able to see him. Clint would be below him.
Sandy was still on the ground, but now she started to scamper over to him.
“No,” he said, “stay away!” But she didn't heed him.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the dry wash with him.
“I told you to stay away from me,” he scolded her. “They're shooting at me.”
“But why?”
“Just because,” he said.
“Give me a gun,” she said. “I can shoot.”
“I'd give you a gun, but I've just got the one.”
“There are two of them,” she said.
“I know,” he said, “one across the road and another one above us.”
“We're in a cross fire.”
“Yes, but the one above us can't see us now,” he explained.
“What are we gonna do?”
“You're going to stay right here,” he said, “and I'm going to get us out of this.”
“How?”
“I'll have a plan,” he told her. “Soon.”
She folded her arms and glared at him like an angry mother.
“That's not very comforting.”
Ed Presser knew he'd made a mistake, although he'd never admit that to his partner. Clint Adams had found himself some cover that had defeated the cross fire. Presser could not see him now and he waved at Chance to stop firing.
They were going to have to try this again somewhere else.
Hal Chance saw Presser waving at him. The two men had ridden together long enough to be able to interpret each other's hand signals. Presser wanted him to stop and move out. He'd meet him farther ahead with the horses.
Chance left his position, smiling because he knew his partner had made a mistake and would never admit it.
“What's happening?” Sandy asked. “Why aren't they shooting anymore?”
“I think they've realized their mistake,” Clint said. “We're not in a cross fire anymore, and that was their advantage. ”
“So then they're . . . what? Quitting?”
“I think they've done it,” he said. “They've quit. They're gone.”
“But . . . why?”
He looked at her.
“Any man who would shoot at another man from ambush is a coward,” he said. “Now that they've lost their edge they're running.”
“Then we can stand up and get out of this hole?” she asked.
He put his hand on her shoulder and shoved her back down.
“I'll stand up and we'll see what happens,” he said. “You wait here.”
“I'm not afraid,” she said.
“I never said you were afraid,” he said. “I'm just telling youâasking youâto wait here. Is that all right?”
“That's fine,” she said, “but hurry. I don't want the horses to get too far away.”
“We'll go and collect the horses as soon as I make sure the shooters are gone.”
“Okay,” she said, folding her arms again. “And hurry up.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
EIGHT
The horses had not gone far. Eclipse was too smart to wander away, and Sandy's horse had simply stayed with him. Clint felt sorry for the mare if she had designs on Eclipse, because he was a gelding.
“Are you all right?” he asked, after giving her a lift into the saddle.
“I'm fine, Father,” she said. “Can I call you Father?”
“I suppose so,” he said.
“If you don't want me to,” she said, “if it makes you uncomfortableâ”
“No, no, it's fine,” he said, patting her on the leg. “Don't worry about it making me uncomfortable. It's just going to take some getting used to.”
“I understand.”
He mounted up and they started for Kansas City again. He supposed he could have done worse for a daughter. She was smart, and she had kept her cool under fire. She sounded like she'd been to school, but there were enough “ain'ts” and “gonnas” in her speech when she wasn't watching herself that he knew she was trying to impress him.
“Can I ask a question?” she asked. “About the shooting? ”
“Of course.”
“What if they weren't shooting at you?”
“Why would they be shooting at you, Sandy?”
She shrugged.
“Maybe because they knew I was coming to fetch you,” she said. “Bring you back to Kansas City to find my mother's killer.”
“How would they know that?”
“I don't know,” she said. “I'm just asking a question.”
“Well, when we were on the ground the bullets were coming at me,” he said, “not you. That was why I was telling you to keep away from me.”
She thought a moment, then nodded.
“All right,” she said. “You know best about these things.”
“Well, thank you,” he said.
She turned her head and looked at him.
“I'm sorry if I get . . . bossy,” she said. “My aunts tell me I do that just like my mother.”
“That's okay,” he said. “I can't think of any part of your mother you should be ashamed to have.”
She smiled and said, “I can't either.”
“You made me walk a mile,” Hal Chance complained to Presser.
“We had to get far enough away before meetin' up,” Presser said. “Just mount up.”
Chance grabbed his horse and swung into the saddle. He knew Presser was mad because he'd made a mistake, and he was taking it out on him.
“What are we gonna do now?”
“We'll ride up ahead,” Presser said. “We've still got a lot of miles to go between here and Kansas City. We'll get another chance.”
“What happens if we don't get another shot at him?” Chance asked. “What if he makes it to Kansas City?”
“Then we ain't gettin' paid,” Presser said. “And we'll be in a whole lot of trouble, so don't even think about that.”
“Hey,” Chance said, “don't jump down my throat. I was just curious, is all.”
“Wait,” Clint said.
They reined their horses in.
“What is it?”
“If we stay on this road, we'll give the shooters another chance to ambush us.”
“So what should we do?”
“We'll get off the road,” Clint said. “Go another way. It may take a little longer, but it'll be safer.”
“You think they're still waiting for us up ahead?” she asked.
“For me,” he said, “yes.”
“Why don't we circle around and ambush them?”
“Well, first of all, I don't ambush people,” he said, “and second, I don't want to put you at risk again.”
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