Under a Turquoise Sky (15 page)

Normally Clint would have been surprised to find a bunch of men drinking in a saloon before nine a.m. Buck Chance's explanation kept that from being the case when he walked into the Tent. That, he'd discovered, was what everyone called Isaac Brown's place. As he walked in, he recalled it being said that two men had opened the Tent. Idly, he wondered who Brown's partner was in the endeavor.

“Ah, Mr. Adams,” Brown said, approaching Clint. “What can my humble establishment offer you? A drink, or perhaps some supplies?” He was still dressed the way Clint had seen him the night before—dark suit and a tie, expensive watch chain hanging from his vest—but it was a clean suit. Clint wondered how many of them he owned, and how hard they were to keep clean around the mines.

“Do you serve coffee?”

“Best in the area,” Brown said. “Come with me to the bar. I was just going to have a cup myself.”

“No whiskey for you in the morning?”

“I'm not a miner,” Brown said. “It's still too early for me.”

When they got to the bar, Brown told the bartender to bring them each a coffee. The three men standing at the bar and the four seated at the various tables were all miners, who looked Clint over curiously—either because they didn't know who he was, or because they did. He wondered if any of them were from the Blue Lady.

“So tell me, how much longer do you plan on staying around the mines?” Brown asked.

“Not much longer,” Clint said. “Just until I'm sure George Markstein is safe up here.”

“That word, safe, it's very relative.”

“Well, I meant safe from an impending threat,” Clint said. “What happens after I leave is out of my hands.”

“So who do you think you're keeping him safe from?”

“I'm looking for three men,” Clint said. “Two will come in together, followed by the third awhile later.”

“Why won't they come in together?”

“Because the first man will use the other two as bait.”

“For what?”

“Not what,” Clint said. “Who. Me.”

“And how is it you know this?”

“I don't know it,” Clint said, “but it's logical. It's what I'd do.”

“So you're dealing with a smart man?”

“More crafty than smart,” Clint said. “In fact, I don't think he's very smart at all.”

“Well,” Brown said, “then I guess it's a good thing you're craftier.”

“I'm going to hang around here awhile, Mr. Brown,” Clint said. “When they do ride in, there aren't going to be many places they can go.”

“First, please call me Isaac,” Brown said, “and second, I hope you're not planning on killing anyone in my place.”

“I'm not planning on killing anyone, period,” Clint said, “but it may not be my call.”

“I understand. Well, I'm afraid I have some work to do. You stay around as long as you like.”

“Thank you.”

Brown carried his coffee to the back of the tent, where he went through a flap to a small office he had carved out for himself. Once there, he put his coffee cup down on his desk and left the tent by the back flap.

Since it was not unusual for Brown to be seen walking through the camp, he made no pretense about where he was going. He made his way to the headquarters of the Blue Lady Mine and entered without knocking. He knew he'd find Ed Martin there, because the man rarely slept.

“Must be somethin' important to bring you over here, Isaac,” Ed Martin said.

“Who the hell did you hire?” Brown demanded. “First Markstein was not supposed to even get here and then when he does he brings the Gunsmith with him.”

“Relax,” Martin said. “The job will get done.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, right now Adams is over at my place waiting for your killer to arrive with his two friends. He's got their every move figured out ahead of time, Ed.”

Martin put down the blueprints he was holding and gave his full attention to his silent partner. Rather, it was he who was the silent partner. Everyone knew there were two men behind the Tent, but no one knew Martin was the second.

“Tell me,” he said, “everything.”

 

When Joe English woke, she was feeling pleasantly exhausted. Certain parts of her body were still tingling, and if she closed her eyes she could still feel Clint Adams's hands and mouth on her. She shivered, then opened her eyes and shook off the feeling. It had been a wonderful night, one she'd been needing for a long time—so long, in fact, that she had actually found herself considering one of Isaac Brown's many advances. In the end, though, she had been smart to hold out for someone like Clint Adams. No, actually, it was a good thing she had held out specifically for Clint Adams. The night with him should be enough to hold her until the time her urge became unbearable. Maybe she should just pick out one miner to be her regular lover, keep him on the job until she tired of him and then move on.

No, talk about unsound business practices, that would be the unsoundest of all.

She got up, washed herself and got dressed for breakfast.

Now that she'd had sex, the next urge she was going to have to satisfy was for a long, hot bath.

When Isaac Brown stopped talking, Ed Martin opened a desk drawer, took out a gun belt and strapped it on.

“What are you doing?” Brown demanded.

“We might have to take a hand in this ourselves, Isaac,” Martin said. “I suggest you put on your gun.”

“Are you crazy?” Isaac Brown asked. “I don't have a gun!”

Martin reached across the desk and grabbed Brown by the jacket lapel.

“Then you'd better get one.”

“I thought we hired somebody for this.”

“Well, apparently he's not going to get the job done—not with Adams predicting his every move.”

“So what do you expect us to do?”

“Well,” Martin said, releasing Brown, “if our man Breckens is going to use his two men as a distraction, then maybe we'll just do the same thing to him.”

At that moment the door opened and Joe English stepped in.

“Well,” she said as Martin backed off Brown, “what can you two boys be discussing at this hour of the morning?”

Isaac Brown didn't know what to say, but Ed Martin was quick off the mark.

“Isaac is worried about Clint Adams hanging around his place,” Martin said. “He thinks there might be trouble.”

“I don't think Clint is here looking for trouble, do you, Ed?” she asked.

“I don't think a man like Clint Adams has to look for trouble, Joe,” Martin said. “I think it just finds him.”

“Is that why you're wearing a gun today?”

“We have a dynamic around here we don't usually have,” he explained. “At any minute somebody could get it into their head to make a try for Mr. Adams. That's why I've suggested that Isaac wear a gun, too.”

“Isaac?” she asked, laughing. “Do you even own a gun?”

Brown didn't like the idea of Joe laughing at him, so he said, “Of course I have a gun. Every man has a gun.”

“Why don't you go back to your place and put it on, Isaac,” Martin suggested.

“Yeah, yeah,” Brown said, “why don't I do that.”

He left, walking past Joe without saying a word, which she found odd. Isaac Brown never missed an opportunity to make a sexual comment to her.

“What's going on, Ed?” she asked.

“I explained—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “there's something else.”

Before he could open his mouth to comment, the door opened again and both George Markstein and Buck Chance entered.

“Are we interrupting?” Markstein said.

Ed Martin thought this would be perfect if only Joe and Chance weren't around.

“Of course not, George,” he said. “Come on in. Good morning. Hello, Buck.”

“Ed.”

“You acting as George's bodyguard today?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, you can leave him here,” Martin said. “He'll certainly be in good hands.”

“That's okay,” Chance said. “I got nowhere else to be right now.”

Markstein looked at Joe and at Ed Martin and said, “Shall we get down to business, then?”

“Of course.” Martin was itching to draw his gun and put a bullet in Markstein's brain. “Why don't we?”

 

Isaac Brown made his way back to his tent and entered his office by way of the back flap. He hadn't actually been telling Martin the truth. He did own a gun, but he was always afraid he'd shoot his own foot off. That's why he had employed the bartender, Al Conroy, who had abilities not only with whiskey bottles but also with guns.

That was it, he had to call Al in and explain things in such a way that the man would be ready at a moment's notice to use the gun he had behind the bar.

Isaac Brown reentered the commercial part of his tent just in time to see two strangers, both wearing guns, enter through the front flap.

Christ, was he too late?

 

Clint saw the two men enter, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, a sure sign of things to come. They were both armed, holster leather worn. Their guns were unremarkable, but the men looked like they'd used them before.

Not smart enough to realize that Clint was the only man in the place who didn't look like a miner—except for the bartender—the two men approached the bar and ordered whiskey. They were standing just feet away from Clint.

Clint turned and leaned on the bar, watching the two men, listening to the bartender talk to them.

“You boys are new,” he said, pouring them each a drink.

“Just passing through,” Paul Drake said.

“Here?” Al asked, laughing. “On the way to where?”

“Why don't you mind your own business?” Kemp asked.

“Hey, pal,” Al said, “I'm a bartender. This is my business.”

“Forgive my friend, here,” Drake said. “He's got no manners. Truth of the matter is, we're lookin' for somebody.”

“Oh? And who might that be?”

Before anyone could say another word, Clint straightened up and said, “Me.”

Jeff Kemp and Paul Drake both turned their heads slowly to look at the man who had spoken.

“I'm Clint Adams,” Clint said, “and you men were sent in by Carl Breckens, weren't you?”

“How did you know th—” Kemp started, but Drake nudged him quiet.

“Mister, we don't know what you're talkin' about,” Drake said. “We just came in for a drink.”

“Right,” Clint said, “this early in the morning and just passing through…to where?”

Neither man was able to think of a viable answer. The sudden tension in the room caused the miners who were there to back away from the bar and their tables to the general store side of the tent, where there was cover. Al, the bartender, stayed where he was, his hand near the six-gun he kept under the bar.

Isaac Brown remained where he was, watching carefully. If Adams gunned down these two men, he was going out the back way to let Ed Martin know what had happened.

 

Carl Breckens watched the two men go into the tent, then made his way through the camp toward the main headquarters of the Blue Lady Mine. He'd neglected to find out from Ed Martin what cabin Markstein was in. With any luck Martin would still be there.

 

Clint turned to face away from the bar and toward the two men.

“Breckens has thrown you to the wolves, boys,” Clint said. “While you're here getting killed, he thinks he's going to get the job done, get paid and not have to pay you. Don't you see?”

“There's two of us, mister,” Drake said, pushing Kemp away from him so there was some distance between them.

“Paul—” Kemp said.

“We can do this, Jeff,” Drake said. “It means a lot of money,”

“You can't collect money,” Clint told them, “and you damn sure can't spend it if you're dead.”

 

Martin, Joe and Markstein had their heads together, bent over the desk, studying blueprints. Chance had elected to take a chair over by the other desk. He was tremendously bored when the door opened and Carl Breckens walked in. Chance didn't know he was Breckens at the time. All he knew was that he was a man wearing a gun.

“Martin, you didn't tell me—” Breckens stopped short when he saw all the people in the room.

Martin reacted immediately. He pushed Markstein away from him, shouted, “Look out, George,” and drew his gun.

Breckens, surprised, drew his gun as a pure reflex, but he was too late. Martin pulled the trigger and shot him in the chest. Chance, shocked into action, jumped up and drew his gun as Breckens staggered backwards out the door, pulling the trigger of his gun and firing one shot.

“What the hell—” Chance said, turning to face Martin.

They pointed their guns at each other…

 

The two men might have given it up if it hadn't been for the shots. As they all heard them, they all moved.

Kemp and Drake went for their guns, leaving Clint no choice. He drew and fired twice, killing them both.

Al grabbed his gun from beneath the bar and brought it up just as Clint turned to him.

“Put it down,” Clint said.

Al released the gun as if it were hot and it clattered to the bar top.

“Hey, hey, I was just gonna try to help, man,” Al said.

Clint swept the gun off the bar with one arm, sending it skittering across the floor toward Isaac Brown. Then he bent to check the two men to be sure they were dead.

 

As the gun came sliding across the floor to Isaac Brown, he made a spur-of-the-moment decision. As Clint bent over the men, Brown picked up the gun, took a few steps toward Clint and raised it.

Al saw what Brown was going to do and shouted, “Hey, no boss,” thinking that Brown misinterpreted what had taken place.

Clint didn't need the warning, though. He heard Brown's steps behind him, turned and fired by instruct. The bullet struck Brown in the chest on the right side. His arm immediately lost all feeling and the gun dropped from his hand.

“What the hell—” Clint said, but he didn't have time to figure out what had happened. He turned and ran from the Tent toward the Blue Lady Mining Company headquarters.

 

“Take it easy,” Chance said to Martin, lowering his gun.

For a moment Martin considered firing again, but instead he lowered his weapon as well.

“I'll go out and see if he's dead,” Chance said.

“What happened?” Markstein asked.

Joe, who had frozen in place next to Martin, said, “What the hell was that?”

But Martin wasn't listening. He rushed across the room, gun in hand. If Breckens was still alive, he might say something to Chance.

As Martin reached the door, he saw Chance leaning over Breckens who, indeed, was still alive. Unsure as to whether he should shoot Chance first and then Breckens, or the other way around, he raised his gun. If Breckens talked, he'd have to kill them both anyway. The order didn't matter.

 

Clint was acting on pure instinct, because there was no time to ask questions. When he saw Buck Chance leaning over a fallen man and Ed Martin in the doorway raising a gun, he didn't stop to consider who the man was going to shoot. It was enough to see that he was about to.

Clint raised his gun and fired once.