Deadly Election (9781101619223) (12 page)

“That’s what we’re hoping for,” Gryder said.

The door to the car opened and a man in an apron said, “Sir? Lunch is served.”

“Let’s eat!” Gryder said.

After lunch Clint left Heck and Gryder in the dining room, having a discussion about something or other. He wasn’t really listening. He slipped into the other car and sat down on one of the chairs to relax with his thoughts.

“Am I interrupting?” Carla asked, entering.

He turned his head and looked at her.

“No” he said, reaching a hand out to her, “come and sit with me.”

She walked over and sat in the other, identical chair. She looked at the sofa.

“You think the marshal will be comfortable there?”

“Heck can sleep on rocks,” Clint said. “Don’t worry about him.”

“I’m not,” she said, reaching out to put her hand on Clint’s knee. “I’m worried about you.”

“Me? Why?”

“I don’t think you’re cut out for this, Clint.”

“Campaigning?”

“That,” she said, “and being a congressman.”

“You mean you think I have a chance to win?”

“Well, of course,” she said. “Or else I wouldn’t be working to get you elected.”

“But?”

“But I don’t know if the job would be a good fit for you,” she said. “Are you ready to leave your horse behind and exchange it for an armchair? Behind a desk?”

“I don’t know,” Clint said. “I guess maybe I should’ve given it some more thought than I did.”

“Well, once you’re in,” she said, “it may be too late for you to get out.”

“Hasn’t anybody ever resigned from office?”

“Yes,” she said, “but then they’re never seen or heard from again. They’re usually finished in politics.”

“Well, I think if someone resigns from politics, they pretty much want to be finished with it.”

She laughed and said, “That’s a good point.”

She moved her hand from his knee to his thigh, began to rub it. He could feel the heat of her hand.

“You feel tense,” she said.

“Do I?”

She nodded and said, “Maybe I should relieve you. What do you think?”

He smiled and said, “I think you should lock the door.”

Carla locked the door between them and the dining car, then came back and got to her knees in front of his chair. She rubbed her hands over both his thighs, then laid one hand on his crotch and squeezed. He was already growing hard. She leaned in, pressed her face to him, and breathed on him. The heat just made him grow harder.

Together they removed his gun belt—careful to set it within reach, even on the train—and then set about to lowering his trousers. She didn’t bother with his boots, since she just wanted his pants down around his knees so she could get to his cock.

When his erect penis was pointing up at her, she fell upon it, first with her hands, and then with her hot, eager mouth. She was determined to finish him—thereby relieving any stress—quickly, before someone came along and knocked at the door.

As she sucked him, Clint lifted his butt off the chair, pushing himself even farther into her mouth.
It was unclear at one point whether she was sucking his cock, or he was fucking her mouth, but it really didn’t much matter.

They were both anxious to finish, figuring somebody would be along pretty soon, trying to get in, either Gryder or Heck. Her head began to bob at increased speed and he rose up to meet her, sometimes so hard she would gag. But she stayed with it, using her right hand to stroke him at the same time, and finally he gushed into her mouth with a groan…and the door rattled.

She backed away, wiped at the corners of her mouth, as he hastily pulled up his pants and strapped his gun back on. At that point whoever was at the door knocked.

“Get the door,” he hissed at her.

Smiling, she stood up and sauntered to the door, took her time unlocking it.

Heck stepped in and looked at them quizzically.

“Am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

“No,” Clint said, “nothing. We were just talking.”

“I’m just takin’ a walk through the train, checkin’ on things,” Heck said. “Makin’ sure we got no stowaways.”

“No stowaways in here,” Carla said with her hands behind her back. Clint thought the innocent look she had plastered on her face was comical.

“Okay,” Heck said. “I’ll just keep checkin’.”

“You do that,” Clint said.

Heck walked through the car and out the other door.

“That was close,” Clint said.

“That was exciting,” she said. “Want to do it again?”

“No!” he said. “That was supposed relieve my stress, not cause more.”

Carla giggled.

Clint said, “I think we should move back to the dining car before something else happens.”

“Coward,” she said as they went through the door.

As had been the case so far, Clint did very well at their first three stops. Their fourth stop was to be Waco, which Gryder said was important.

“The congressman won Waco last time, but just barely. I think we can get it away from him.”

“How do we do that?” Carla asked.

“Well,” Gryder said, “the easiest way would be for Clint to shoot somebody.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Clint said.

“Oh, I know that,” Gryder said. “That was just wishful thinking on my part.”

“Unless,” Clint added, “somebody tries to shoot me.”

“Well…”

“Don’t even think about it,” Carla said to Gryder.

“No, you’re right,” Gryder said, “we’ll just have to depend on Clint winning over the crowd, and the town.”

“He’s been doing great so far,” Carla said.

“Yes, he has,” Gryder said. “Carla, why don’t you and Heck take a walk so Clint and I can go over his speech.”

“Deputy?” she asked. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

“I sure would, miss,” Heck said.

She slid her arm through his and they strolled away, leaving Clint and Gryder alone in the plush sitting room of the last car.

Andy George led his men into the town of Waco.

“This is gonna be the place, boys,” he said. “Adams
will make his speech, and then the car will stay overnight in the train yard. That’s where we’re gonna make our move.”

“What about the horses?” Castle asked.

“Stinnett,” George said to one of the men Castle had recruited, “you’re gonna stand by just outside the yard with the horses. Don’t panic when you hear shootin’, and don’t let the horses spook.”

“I gotcha.”

“So what do we do ’til then?” Ritter asked.

“’Til then,” George said, “we get a drink.”

Clint’s speech in Waco was met with shouts of approval—but then they began shouting as soon as he stepped out onto the rear platform of the train.

Clint was not sure how many people could actually hear him, but he did as Gryder had told him—he spoke loudly and distinctly about the things they’d talked about. The people standing in the front rows were certainly able to hear him, and they screamed their approval. Others may have simply been following the leader, but at least nobody threw any fruit or vegetables at him.

Once they were done, they all went inside and Gryder said, “That went well, real well.”

“Thanks,” Clint said.

“Can we go out to eat?” Carla asked. “There are plenty of restaurants in Waco, aren’t there?”

“There are some good ones,” Gryder said.

“Suits me,” Heck said. “I’ll just keep my eyes peeled for trouble.”

“Okay, then,” Clint said. “We’d better get off the train toward the front, though, away from the crowd.”

Henry Chapman drank the rest of his beer and signaled the bartender for another one. He still had a clear view through the mirror behind the bar of the men he had followed there.

There were six of them, and they seemed to have a real interest in the train Clint Adams was on. Chapman had spotted them back in Round Rock, the train’s first stop. Since that time he had been following them. In Georgetown and Belton, they had watched the train and the proceedings again very carefully. They had also watched after the speech was over. Chapman was sure they were following Clint Adams and his team to get an idea of their routine.

But now, in Waco, the six men had gone directly to a saloon. This could only mean one thing. They felt they had the group’s patterns down, and were going to make some kind of move tonight.

Chapman didn’t like amateurs, and while these fellas may have been professional cowboys, or even outlaws, they weren’t professional killers.

He felt dead sure they were going to mess this up.

Gryder took them to a steak house just off Waco’s Main Street. They got a table for four toward the back, and both Clint and Heck sat so that they could observe the entire room. Business was brisk, and there seemed to be people there who had been at Clint’s speech, because they obviously recognized him.

However, nobody approached them to try to talk to him, so they were able to eat in peace.

“We have a few more stops and then we’ll head home,” Gryder said. “So far this whistle-stop tour has gone very well.”

“You sound surprised,” Clint said.

“A lot about this campaign has surprised me,” Gryder admitted, “but mostly you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’ve done everything right,” Gryder said. “Usually I’m in a position where if my candidate loses, I can blame it on him. Something stupid that he said or did. That’s not the case here. If you lose, I’m going to have to admit that it was my fault. For a change, I’ll have to take the blame.”

“If I lose, I think we can pretty much share the blame, Will,” Clint said.

“No, no,” Gryder said, “that’s nice of you to say, but this one’s going to be on me—if we lose, I mean.”

“But we won’t,” Carla said.

“Darn right we won’t,” Heck said. He lifted his beer glass. “Here’s to the best damned congressman the State of Texas will ever have.”

They all raised their glasses and said, “Hear, hear.”

They took two small cabs back to the train yard, where the train sat, belching steam.

“I’m gonna take a turn around the yard, Clint,” Heck said. “Just for a look-see.”

“Wait for me, Heck,” Clint said. “I don’t want you to do that alone.”

“Actually,” Heck said, “I’m better off alone. I can melt into the dark better without you, and not be seen.”

“Well, okay,” Clint said, “but be careful.”

“I won’t be long.”

Clint, Carla, and Gryder boarded the train and Gryder said he was going to the passenger car to go over some papers.

“Come on back in a couple of hours for coffee,” Clint said.

“Right,” Gryder said.

He went forward, while Clint and Carla went into the rear car sitting room—alone.

Andy George said to his men, “Drink up. Last one. We’re gonna move.”

“Now?” Castle said.

“It’s dark, and they should be settled in,” George said.

“But…how we gonna do this?”

“We talked about this, goddamnit,” George said. “They ain’t never gonna now what hit ’em. Just don’t kill the lawman if ya don’t have to.”

“And the girl?” Ritter asked.

“There’ll be time for the girl,” George said. “And if there ain’t, we make time.”

He finished his beer and slammed the mug down on the table.

“Let’s go!”

Heck moved easily through the train yard, keeping to the shadows. It brought back memories of the days he’d spent as a railroad detective. He liked wearing a deputy marshal’s badge better. He got to spend more time in the saddle. And being a railroad detective meant dealing with railroad men. They were the same as politicians, if not worse.

The general area looked clear. There were other trains, and other crews, but he expected to see them there. However, when he started to return to their train, he thought he saw something, and froze.

He waited there for a few minutes until he finally saw it again.

Shadows.

Moving toward Clint’s train.

And then he heard a horse nickering from somewhere nearby.

He quickened his pace back to the train, hoping he’d get there in time.

Clint and Carla were sitting in the armchairs, each with a glass—she brandy, and he whiskey. She was speaking, but Clint suddenly said, “Quiet.”

“What?”

“Shh,” he said, and put his finger to his lips.

He put his drink down, got up, and walked to a window. Careful not to stand in full view, he peered out.

“What’s going on?” she whispered.

He went back to her.

“I heard something.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure. Movement.”

“Could it be Heck?”

“I wouldn’t hear Heck.”

“Then maybe Will?”

“I don’t think Will would go outside alone,” he said. “He’s probably still in the passenger car.”

“A member of the crew, then.”

“Maybe.” He looked around, saw a door that he knew led to a closet. “I want you to do something for me.”

“What?”

He crossed to the door and opened it. There was plenty of space.

“Get in here.”

“What?”

He went to her, grabbed her arm, and led her to the closet.

“Get inside and don’t come out until I come for you,” he said. “Not even if you hear shots.”

“Shots?”

“And I want you to stay on the floor, as low as possible.”

“You’re scaring me.” She got down on the floor.

“And roll yourself up into a ball.”

“Clint—”

He closed the door on her.

George sent three of his men to the rear of the last car, and he and Ritter went to the front. One man was watching the horses.

“Wait,” he said as Ritter started to board the train. He was being too noisy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Quietly,” George said.

“We ain’t gonna be quiet for long, are we?” Ritter asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” George said. “Be quiet now!”

As Heck approached the train, he saw shadowy figures moving alongside it. He drew his gun and moved closer.

Will Gryder was reading when he thought he saw something out the window. He lowered his papers and stared out, but couldn’t see anything. The lights from inside were reflecting off the glass. He bordered his eyes with his hands so he could see outside, but nothing appeared to be moving.