The Sapphire Gun (4 page)

“Will you be able to catch those other two?” she asked.

“They haven't been gone that long,” Franco replied. “And that wagon won't be moving too quickly.”

Rosa snapped her reins and got her horse moving. She rode a little bit ahead of Franco, just to make sure they weren't going to run into any unexpected company on the way out. Franco caught up to her before too long and then he steered off the trail.

Once he'd ridden into a patch of trees, Franco pressed his free hand down on top of the drunk's head and gave his reins a vicious pull. The drunk's neck snapped and his head lolled forward. Franco loosened the reins and allowed the drunk to fall into a heap on the ground.

Rosa looked at him and asked, “Are you sure he is dead?”

Rather than draw the gun from his holster, Franco pulled back on his reins and brought his horse up onto its hind legs. When the animal dropped down again, its hooves pounded the drunk into the dirt. “I am now,” he replied. “Come on. Let's catch up to our friend before he and Adams think we forgot about them.”

It had been a while since Clint had talked so long with Johnny Blevin. While riding at a leisurely pace, the two men caught up on old times through one story after another. Johnny had always been a funny guy and rarely made a point without doing so in an entertaining way. In fact, Clint would have been amazed at the party from the night before if it hadn't been thrown by Johnny Blevin.

Johnny was just the sort of fellow to throw caution to the wind, put something into motion, and then allow it to spiral so completely out of his control. Because of that, Clint also wasn't too surprised to find out that Johnny had stumbled into such a big amount of money. It took a certain portion of wildness in a man's head for him to put himself into such potentially profitable situations.

Then again, that same amount of wildness was also good at getting a man into a whole mess of trouble. Knowing that more than well enough, Clint figured he would be there to make sure this particular instance didn't spiral too far out of control.

As the day wore on, Clint figured they could have gotten to where they were headed before nightfall if they'd ridden harder from the start. But, since this was Johnny's show and he didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry, Clint decided not to get himself worked up about it either. He just kept his eyes open and enjoyed the ride.

While Johnny was stringing together one story or another, Clint let his eyes wander all around him to look for any sign that they were being followed. A lot of that came from instinct and not from the fact that he was there to keep an eye on Johnny's safety. Sometimes, Clint felt like he was being followed more often than not. At the very least, being a bit wary of the matter could never do a man like him any harm.

They made camp before the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, and Clint was still convinced they were free of any unwanted guests. Just to be certain, however, he remained in his saddle after Johnny had climbed down from the wagon to stretch his legs.

“What's the matter?” Johnny asked. “You don't like this spot?”

“The spot's fine. I'm just going to circle for a bit and see if any of those shady characters from your party decided to chase after us.”

Johnny laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You must think an awful lot of yourself if you figure Victoria would come all this way just to get another poke from the Gunsmith.”

“You might be amazed how far they'll travel for that, Johnny,” Clint shouted over his back.

Johnny's laughter could be heard for quite a while after Clint rode away from the wagon. Even though he was laughing along with him, Clint kept his eyes focused on his surroundings and his ears alert for anything other than Johnny's voice.

Clint rode out close to sixty yards from the wagon and made a slow circle from there. Midway through his second revolution, he brought Eclipse around to face the opposite direction and retraced his own steps. As far as he could tell, there wasn't anyone else close enough to pose any sort of trouble.

By the time Clint rode back to camp, Johnny was building a fire.

 
Franco stood with his back against a tree. Behind him, the two horses were grazing quietly. When he heard the rustle of footsteps, Franco turned just in time to see Rosa walk up a slope on her way back from a river that trickled nearby.

She wore a loose-fitting slip that clung to her wet skin nicely. Wringing out her hair, she sat down and asked, “Did you catch sight of them yet?”

“No.”

“Will you be going to make sure they're camped?”

“They haven't moved any further. There's a flat stretch of trail that goes for miles up ahead and they're not on it. That means they've made camp.”

“Can you be certain?”

Franco pushed off from the tree and turned around to face her. His hands moved along the smooth leather holster around his waist until one palm came to rest on the grip of his pistol. In a quick, fluid motion, he drew the gun and pointed it at her.

The pistol was a nickel-plated .44 with enough engraving on the barrel to be considered a work of art. There was no sight on top of the barrel and a guard around the trigger that was specially crafted to be narrower and sleeker than its original mold.

Rosa didn't flinch, but instead looked over the gun as if it wasn't even there. “I just don't want you to miss your shot.”

The pistol was turned away from her with a fancy spin that twirled the gun around Franco's finger. As the pistol spun, a small gem embedded in its handle caught some of the light to resemble one of the stars twinkling overhead.

After depositing the gun back into its holster, Franco reached for a rifle that had also been leaning against a tree. “I won't miss my shot,” he said confidently.

Rosa crawled over to him and came to a stop so she was kneeling at his feet. She reached up to stroke his crotch with both hands and said, “I bet you could even hit them from here.”

“With you making my aim so sharp,” Franco replied, “I just might be able to, at that.”

“Sounds like we have all night.”

“And a generous part of the morning. Since we know where they're going, we can let them get their business done before worrying about catching up to them.”

She smiled and began unbuttoning his pants. She seemed more than a little surprised when she felt Franco turn and walk away.

“Not now,” he said. “Wait until we're closer to the shot.”

After that, Franco sat and disassembled his rifle to make sure every piece was oiled and in its place. Rosa put together a small meal before curling up to sleep by herself.

The Western Union office was a modest building attached to a train station situated on a flat section of green land. It looked more like a house than a place of business simply because it was so new that it hadn't yet had a chance to fall into disrepair. There were colorful curtains in the windows and flowers planted along the walkways.

Since Clint and Johnny had arrived, three trains had come and gone. According to the schedule tacked to the wall, all three of them were right on time.

“You sure you want to sell now?” a portly man in an expensive suit asked.

Johnny froze with pen in hand and looked up. “Why do you ask?”

The second man wearing a suit was younger and sported a dark brown goatee. A dark hat covered a scalp that had little more than short stubble growing out of it. “Sometimes folks change their mind at the last moment, or even not long after they close the deal,” the younger man said. “It turns into a costly mess as everyone's dragged through the courts, so we prefer to ask right up front.”

Letting out a laugh and shifting his eyes back to the papers, Johnny said, “Not me, Mr. Galloway. Your offer's more than fair and I'm willing to abide by it. You've got nothing but my best wishes.”

“That's good to hear.”

“Yes, indeed,” the portly man chimed in. “Very good to hear. Is there any particular way you'd like the second half of your payment?”

“Pardon?”

“Some prefer gold. Others prefer cash. Small bills. Large bills. It's up to you.”

Johnny glanced over to Clint, who mouthed one word slowly enough for it to be unmistakable.

“I guess I'll take it in gold,” Johnny said with some surprise.

The portly man smirked and nodded. “A wise decision. I hear there are some very good deals to be had not too far south from here.” After that, he disappeared into a back room.

“So,” Galloway said as he reached into his pocket and removed a cigar, “who's your partner?”

“This is . . .”

When Johnny trailed off, Clint leaned forward and extended his hand. “Clint Adams. Nice to meet you.”

Galloway raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly as he struck a match against the wall. “I've heard that name before.” By the time he lit his cigar, Galloway was nodding again. “You're a gunfighter, aren't you?”

“Depends on who you ask, I guess. I prefer to think of myself as a man with many interests.”

“Fair enough.”

The portly man came back from the next room carrying a medium-sized wooden box. The box was slightly larger than one used to hold cigars, and it obviously took a lot more effort to carry it. “Have a look for yourself and see if this is to your satisfaction.”

Johnny's eyes were wide, and he leaned forward as if he was examining an exhibit in a museum. “That looks really good to me.”

“Mind if we take it out of there?” Clint asked.

“Be my guest.”

Although Clint didn't empty the box completely, he made sure that the gold bars on the bottom of the box were identical to the ones on top. He then closed it up and said, “Looks good to me. I've just never seen so much neatly cut gold before.”

“It never hurts to be careful,” Galloway said. “No need to explain.”

“The other two boxes are in the next room,” the portly man explained. “You can examine those, too, if you like.”

Seeing that Johnny was about to bust with joy, Clint stepped in on his behalf. “I'll give them a quick look-see and I'll load them onto our wagon if you don't mind.”

The portly man chuckled and wiped his brow. “Not at all, sir. It would save me the trouble of lifting them.”

Johnny had to sign another ream of papers to verify the deal was made, he'd received the gold, and all the other legal nonsense was resolved. From there, he stood up and tipped his hat. “It's been a pleasure doing business with you men.”

“Likewise,” the portly man replied.

Galloway shook Johnny's hand, but didn't bother taking the cigar from his mouth to speak.

Once outside, Johnny climbed onto his wagon and started tugging at the edge of the tarp.

“They're under the seat,” Clint said as he walked around the wagon.

Johnny hopped up and bent to reach under the wagon's seat. When his hand bumped against the heavy boxes, he smiled and let out a relieved sigh. Just as he was going to say something, he was stopped by a shake of Clint's head as he climbed onto Eclipse's back.

Johnny's bank was due south from the station, and neither man said anything until the quaint buildings were well behind them. Even then, Johnny seemed a bit reluctant to open his mouth.

“I wasn't sure if you wanted me to say who you were.”

“Why not?” Clint asked.

“You know, after all the . . . things you've done.”

“Do you think I have a price on my head?”

“No! I mean, you must have angered plenty of men along the way. Last time we rode together, you didn't exactly advertise who you were.”

Since Johnny had sweat enough, Clint let him off the hook. “I appreciate the concern, but this is one of those times where it may do some good for folks to know I'm riding with you. If that carries any weight, it might make them think twice about coming after you. If not, it didn't do any harm.”

“And . . . what if . . . someone finds out who wants to come after you?”

“Then they would have caught sight of me sooner or later anyway.”

Johnny thought about that for a moment and shrugged. Whether it all made sense or not, it seemed to be enough to put his mind at ease for the moment. “You think those two were dealing straight with me?”

“They weren't lying about the price of gold being good right now. I heard about that on my way up here. Also, they didn't try to shortchange you at all. I've got to admit, you're getting more than I thought you would for that business of yours.”

“I owned the land, too. Plus, I signed over the name so my usual shippers would know they were still in good hands.”

“Those contacts could have been worth a hell of a lot, and you don't have any legal right to them anymore,” Clint warned.

Johnny waved his hand as if he were swatting a fly. “They can have 'em. I plan on living simple and only working when I damn well please from here on out.”

“Yeah? Well how about we worry about getting to where we need to go before planning out your future.”

Johnny looked over with a worried face. “You think someone might be after us?”

“I'm just a firm believer in that old saying about counting your chickens before they hatch.”

“I guess that ain't never too good of an idea.”

“Nope,” Clint said. “It never is.”

The sun blazed overhead with a brilliant, unforgiving light. All things considered, Clint had figured it would be a lot hotter than it was. But the breeze took some of the edge off of what could have been a scorching day, making the ride that much more pleasant.