The Sapphire Gun (9 page)

Johnny nodded good-naturedly. “You know something? I've always wanted to see England.”

Patting Johnny's shoulder, Clint said, “There are a few taverns in London I can highly recommend.”

The next stop they made was to pick up Johnny's wagon. Since they'd needed to make better time if they were going to get to Dover Shallows without drawing attention, Clint had convinced Johnny to leave everything behind. Clint knew it was going to be a tough job and he'd been right. Of course, now that they were going back to the wagon, Johnny set the pace fast enough that they made it in record time.

“I just hope it's still there,” Johnny fretted as they approached the riverbed just upstream from where he and Clint had tended to their wounds not long ago. Turning to Rosa, Johnny asked, “Did you and that assassin friend of yours find my wagon?”

“No.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Then shut up until we get there,” Clint snapped. “Grousing about it won't do any good.”

Johnny held his breath and didn't fully let it out until he spotted a large shape covered mostly by branches stuck into a few large quilts. The cover wasn't perfect, but it kept the wagon out of sight well enough. Johnny snapped his reins and bolted toward the wagon.

Clint, on the other hand, tied the reins of Rosa's horse to a tree and rode toward the sound of running water. He swung down from the saddle, waded knee-deep in the cool water, and stuck his hands into the river.

“Everything looks good,” Johnny shouted. “'Cept for a raccoon that I just . . . can't . . . reach. What about you?” When he didn't hear anything right away, Johnny started running toward Clint. “You find 'em?”

Finally, Clint's fingers brushed against the flat rocks he'd stacked there previously. When he pulled them up, they made a wet sucking sound as the underwater mud hole began filling itself in. “I think the water might have washed them away,” he replied.

Johnny's voice became shrill with panic. “What? How!? Are you sure?!”

Laughing while straining to lift one of the rectangular boxes out of the water, Clint said, “I'm joking. These damn things are too heavy for a flood to wash them away.”

“And they're all still there?”

“Yes. Now, come and help me!”

Johnny opened the boxes and counted up his gold one more time. After that, he hitched the horse he'd been riding back to the wagon and got it ready to roll. Part of that duty was picking through the belongings he'd packed on the wagon and deciding what he should leave behind. His single horse might have been able to get the wagon going, but Johnny was a little more concerned about speed after all that had happened of late.

“I think that quilt is done for,” Clint said. “We had to cut it up pretty good to get those branches to stay. You might just want to get rid of it.”

“Are you kidding? That quilt did one hell of a job in keeping this wagon out of sight. That means it's lucky as hell!”

“It also means those two probably didn't ride anywhere close to here,” Clint said. “Otherwise, they would have seen this eyesore from a mile away.”

“Yeah, but they still wouldn't have gotten my gold.” Johnny looked over to Rosa and smirked victoriously. “I'm glad you could see this,” he said to her. “I'm still alive, I got my gold, and I'm free as a bird.”

Already back in his saddle, Clint rode over to Johnny and held out his hand. “All right then, birdie. Fly away to where we discussed and I'll wrap things up with this lady.”

Johnny shook Clint's hand. “You sure you don't want me along till you drop her off? You know, just to watch your back?”

“I'd feel better without having to worry about keeping you safe in case any more of her friends came along. Besides, we're only going to Carson City.”

Looking over to where Rosa waited, Johnny said, “Watch yourself with her. Whether she held a gun or not, it don't mean she should be trusted.”

“I don't trust her. That's why she's going to jail.”

“And where's that jail?”

“Carson City.”

Johnny furrowed his brow and grumbled, “That's a ways from here.”

“I know someone I can trust who can take her off my hands,” Clint said as he nodded toward Rosa.

“You sure you can trust him?”

“Tom's had a few chances to let me down, but he wound up saving my skin instead. It's been a while since I've seen him, but he should remember me well enough. He's also not the sort to mistreat a prisoner.”

“Don't tell me you're going soft on her.”

Clint chuckled and shook his head. “Not hardly. I also don't have enough reason to hand her over to a pack of wolves.”

“Or vigilantes?” Johnny asked.

“Same difference.”

“Just keep an eye on her, Clint. It'll take a while to get to Carson City from here.”

“Not the way we'll be riding. I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. Just take care of yourself and enjoy your trip.”

“I will,” Johnny said as he reached behind him and took a small bundle from under his seat. “And here's a little something for ya.”

The moment Clint took the bundle in his hand, he knew what it was. Wrapped loosely in a wet rag, the bundle was slightly larger than a pack of cards and ten times as heavy. He flipped open the rag and saw the glitter of gold underneath it.

“Thanks, Johnny,” Clint said.

“Put that away before anything happens to it.”

Clint did just that, and when he turned back around, he saw Johnny holding out another bundle of the same size and shape.

“Go on and take it,” Johnny insisted. “I only wish it could be more.”

Knowing it would have been a waste of time to refuse the bonus, Clint took the gold and tipped his hat. “Good luck, friend.”

“You, too,” Johnny said as he got his wagon moving. “With that lady at your side, you're gonna need it.”

For a man like Johnny, who was used to doing most of his travel by wagon, it would have been a long ride to Carson City. For a man like Clint, who was used to traveling at Eclipse's pace, the state line didn't seem nearly as far away. Dover Shallows had been a ways off from the Nevada border, but thanks to a bit of backtracking to get to Johnny's wagon, Clint figured on arriving at Carson City after making camp only twice.

The first night was quiet. Rosa ate a few bites of the food Clint offered and went to sleep. She didn't complain about the ropes tied around her or the fact that she was tethered to a tree like a dog. After a second day of hard riding, Clint made camp and took the time to prepare something other than fried oats and bacon.

A freshly killed rabbit hung on a spit over a fire, and a nearby stream provided fresh water for his canteen. Biting into the rabbit stew Clint pulled together was enough to bring a smile to Rosa's face.

“This is really good,” she said.

Clint laughed and said, “Wait until I kill a possum. Then you'll really be in for a treat.”

“. . . want to thank you.”

“For what? Catching you, tying you up, or hauling you to a jail?”

“None of those, so much, but I should thank you for getting me away from Franco. He would have killed me rather than let me go. I'm sure of that.”

Scooping up some of the stew, Clint nodded. “Well, no need to worry about that anymore.”

“I know,” she said with a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

Clint kept eating, and waited for her to ask him to loosen the ropes or maybe even let her go stretch her legs. None of those requests came, though. In fact, she didn't say much of anything until she was finished with her supper.

“All this riding must make you tired,” she said after Clint took her plate.

“Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.”

“I wish I could wash off some of this dirt.”

Nodding as he finally heard the type of thing he'd been waiting for, Clint asked, “I suppose you'd like me to let you have some time in the river so you could refresh yourself?”

“Yes. That would be nice.”

“How about I lead you down there and I'll wash off these plates? Or I could just save you some time, find a nice heavy rock, and hit myself over the back of the head with it. At least that way you wouldn't even need to get your hands dirty.”

“I wasn't thinking about that,” Rosa said. She grinned and cocked her head. “But that isn't a bad idea.”

“Just save all the sweet talk,” Clint said. “I intend on bringing you to the jail and that's that. You're pretty, but not so pretty that I'll let my guard down every time you bat your eyelids.”

“Could you maybe bring me some water so I could wash a little of this dirt from my hair?” When she asked that question, Rosa sifted her fingers through her hair and caused a good amount of dirt and silt to billow around her head like a cloud.

“I'm not loosening your ropes,” Clint told her.

“I didn't expect you to.”

Knowing that he'd arranged the entire camp with the length of her ropes in mind, Clint thought about what she might be trying to accomplish by getting him to bring her water. Although he was unable to think of anything beyond her obvious desire to get free, Clint looked at Rosa as if he could see right through her.

“I'm going to search you before I take one step from here,” he said. “Actually, I'm going to search you anyway.”

Clint walked over to her with his hand clasped over his holstered Colt. The closer he got to her, the wider Rosa's smile became.

“What's so funny?” Clint asked.

“I was just wondering how many guns you think I found between now and the last time you searched me. Or maybe you think I pulled a knife out of that old horse I'm riding?”

“That's enough.”

But it was too late for Rosa to stop. She was laughing at him more the longer she talked, until she was too far gone to rein it in. “And I guess you think I've got some good places to hide this arsenal I found? Is that how a man's mind works?”

“I'm still going to search you.”

The longer she seemed to be distracting him, the more Clint expected her to make her move. When she finally broke into a full belly laugh, he drew his pistol just to put an end to the noise.

Not only did it cause her to stop laughing, but it made him feel like a genuine horse's ass in the process.

Lowering his Colt and keeping his hand over the grip like before, he said, “Sorry about that. I just . . .”

“I know,” she said earnestly. “If only we'd met under better circumstances.”

“Yeah. If only.”

She raised her arms and extended her legs. “Go ahead and search. I don't blame you for not trusting me.”

Clint repeated the same process as he'd done before, searching her from her head to her toes without stepping out of line as to where he put his hands. Rosa was still laughing a bit and even squirmed when his hands got too close to her hips or under her arms.

“That tickled,” she explained.

When he'd taken her prisoner, Clint's notion of her was fixed solidly in his mind. But the more time he spent with Rosa and the more he thought about what he actually knew of her, the more he started to wonder if he hadn't been too quick to judge her.

He was taking her to jail. That wasn't going to change.

He hadn't let his guard down once. That wouldn't change either.

But there was no reason she shouldn't be allowed to clean up a bit.

“I'll be right back with some water,” he said.

After cleaning out the stewpot, Clint filled it with river water and brought it back to the camp. He'd barely let Rosa out of his sight the entire time he'd been gone, and the river was less than twenty paces from the tree where she was tied. Even so, he was hesitant as he approached her again.

Clint set the pot down and took a good look at her. As far as he could tell, Rosa hadn't moved from the spot she'd been in when he left to go to the river. She still sat in a patch of grass with her legs curled up beneath her. She looked back at him with an almost bored expression on her face as her hands idly plucked blades of grass from the ground.

The night was young enough for a few streaks of light to show in the sky. It was the time of day when everything was bathed in a warm, red glow. A few of the brighter stars could already be seen in the eastern half of the horizon.

Clint approached her carefully with his hand resting upon the grip of his holstered Colt. He went through the motions of searching her again and found nothing on her that hadn't been there before. By the time he was done, he shrugged and said, “You're still clean.”

“Not really,” she said. “But I will be as soon as I get some of that water.”

Clint stepped back and pushed the stewpot toward her. As Rosa dipped her hands into the water, Clint made preparations so they could leave as quickly as possible in the morning. He packed away everything they wouldn't need in the meantime, which meant he only left out his bedroll and the fixings for tomorrow's breakfast.

All the while, Clint made sure to keep Rosa in his field of vision. He may not have been watching her like a hawk, but he was able to see enough to know she wasn't doing anything she wasn't supposed to be doing. When he heard the sounds of splashing water come to a stop, he looked over at her.

Rosa was on her knees with her back straight. Her long brown hair was just wet enough to stay together in the breeze as it fell over one shoulder. The rest of the water had been used on her body, causing her white shirt to cling to her like a second skin, allowing Clint to see the dark shape of her nipples poking from behind the moist cotton.