Deadly Election (9781101619223) (8 page)

“I don’t know him real well.”

“Well, he made sure I was comfortable and then he disappeared,” Heck said. “Yet I feel like he’s watchin’ me.”

“Maybe he is.”

“I’ll have that brandy now,” Heck said, “and the explanation.”

“Sure,” Clint said. “Let’s go in here.”

“So the whole thing’s a sham?” Heck asked.

“Shh,” Clint said, “Julius might still be around. Yeah, it’s a sham.”

“And you’re just waitin’ for somebody to try to kill you?”

“Right.”

“You like having a target on your back?”

“No, I don’t
like
it,” Clint said. “But the plan seems sound to me.”

“The government’s plan,” Heck said. “They don’t care if they lose you in the process.”

“Well, I hope they care.”

Heck blew some air out his mouth.

“You didn’t hear this from anybody you trust, did you?”

“Well…Jeremy Pike. I kind of trust him.”

“And when’s the last time you saw him?”

“It’s been some years,” Clint admitted.

“You call him your friend?”

“Not exactly.”

“Would you trust him to watch your back?”

Clint hesitated only a moment, then said, “Yes.”

Heck put his glass down and sighed.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

“Me, too.”

Clint took Heck’s glass and set it on the sideboard, then they walked to the stairs together. Julius appeared before they went up.

“Will you be needing anything else, sir?” he asked.

“No, Julius,” Clint said. “You can go to bed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, Julius?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Does Mrs. Bigelow sleep on the premises?”

“Yes, sir, she has a room behind the kitchen.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Julius nodded, then disappeared down a hall.

“How’s he do that?” Heck asked.

“What?”

“He seems to melt into the walls.”

“Well, he came with the house,” Clint said. “He obviously knows it real well.”

“So what’s the plan?” Heck asked. “I mean, the real plan.”

“The real plan is for you to keep me alive, while I find out who’s been killing candidates.”

“You want me to keep
them
from killin’ you?” Heck asked. “Or anybody?”

“Anybody along the way,” Clint said. “And in the end, the people I’m looking for. Just watch my back, Heck.”

“Okay,” Heck said, “but first I gotta get some sleep. I’ll start watchin’ in the mornin’.”

“Here’s hoping nobody tries to kill me tonight,” Clint said as Heck walked upstairs.

The three men charged with killing Clint Adams sat in the Bloody Rose Saloon, waiting for their boss. When the man walked in, he came right over to their table.

“You three,” he said, “you got trouble.”

“How’s that?” Andy George, the leader, asked.

“Adams has help,” the man said. “He brought in a friend of his, Heck Thomas.”

“Thomas?” the second man, Chris Ritter, said. “Ain’t he a railroad dick?”

“Used to be,” George said. “Now’s he’s a deputy marshal working for Judge Parker.”

“A marshal?” Brian Castle asked. “What’s he doin’ here?”

“Adams sent for him,” their boss said. “So now you got two guns to worry about.”

“We can take ’em,” George said.

“I’m betting you can’t,” the man said, “so I’m telling you to hire more help.”

“But—”

“I’ll put up the money,” the man said. “It won’t come from your end.”

“Fine.”

“And the new men? They shouldn’t know anything about me. Got it?”

“We got it.”

“Let me know when you get that done.”

“The job?”

“No, damnit,” the boss said. “Get the help, and then let me know. I’ll let you know when to do the job. It’s a sensitive thing. Got it?”

“We got it.”

“Don’t screw this up,” the man said, “or it’ll be your last job.”

He stalked out as the three men exchanged glances.

“Who do we get?” Castle asked.

“Right now,” George said, “get three more beers, and then we’ll decide.”

The next morning, at breakfast, Will Gryder told Clint—and Heck Thomas—what the schedule for the day would be.

“We’ll be meeting with three different groups during the course of the day,” he said. “One of the meetings will be over lunch, and one over supper. Carla, you’ll need to take Clint to pick up his new suits. He’s going to need them today.”

“Right.”

“New duds,” Heck said, raising his eyebrows at Clint. “Nice.”

“And take the marshal,” Gryder said. “If he’s going to be around us, he could use a couple of new suits, too.”

“Hold on there,” Heck said. “I can’t afford—”

“It’s all taken care of, Heck,” Clint said. “It’s on Texas.”

“Well, in that case—I like blue.”

“Get that done early,” Gryder said to Carla, “and then bring them to the first meeting.”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you all later.”

Gryder left the table, and the house.

“When you gentlemen are ready to go shopping, I will be in the living room.”

She left Clint and Heck at the table, still finishing the feast Mrs. Bigelow had laid out for them.

“Are we permitted to go armed?” Heck asked.

“They want me to, which suits me,” Clint said, “and I want you to.”

“Sidearm, or can I wear the shoulder rig?”

“Whatever makes you most comfortable,” Clint said.

“Well,” Heck said, “I wouldn’t wanna ruin the lines of my new duds, but I think I’ll go with the shoulder rig. I like it.”

“That’s fine.”

“Man, this grub is good,” Heck said. “I can see I’m gonna put on a few pounds before this job is done.”

“Yeah, I had the same thoughts.”

“Be a shame if our new clothes ended up not fitting us anymore. I’d kinda like to take mine back to Fort Smith with me.”

“I’ll make sure you do.” Clint got up. “I’m going to get dressed.”

“I’ll be right up, soon as I finish this last stack,” Heck said, forking some more flapjacks onto his plate.

When both men were dressed, they met Carla in the living room.

“We’re ready,” Clint said.

“Good. Let’s go.”

“My horse is in the town livery,” Heck said.

“We’ve got a coach to take us,” Carla said. “Don’t worry.”

“You bring your horse?” Heck asked Clint as they stepped outside.

“No, left him behind,” Clint said. “I figured they’d be dragging me around.”

Outside they started down the walk toward the coach when Heck saw a glint of sun off metal across the street.

“Down!”
he shouted. He spread his arms and lunged, taking both Clint and Carla to the ground. The shots came, and a couple of bullets went over their heads and slammed into the front door.

“Hey—”
Carla cried as she went down, but she fell silent when she heard the shots.

Clint and Heck drew their guns. Clint remained where he was, shielding Carla with his body. Heck ran across the street to see if he could catch the shooters. The coach driver had taken shelter beneath the coach.

Heck came walking back and said, “We’re clear.”

“Are you all right?” Clint asked Carla, helping her to her feet.

“I think so,” she said. “Who was that?”

“Heck?”

“Didn’t see anybody,” the marshal said. “They fired and then ran.”

“What was that about?” Carla asked.

Clint and Heck exchanged a glance. Heck holstered his gun, decided to let Clint handle the explanations.

“I’ll go and check on the driver.”

“Clint?” Carla said. “What’s going on?”

“Probably just somebody who recognized me yesterday, maybe followed us back here,” Clint said. “They waited for daylight to take their shot.”

“They tried to kill us?”

“Me,” Clint said. “They tried to kill me.”

“But…just because of who you are?”

“Exactly.”

“That is so…unfair.”

“So’s life, Carla,” he said. “Do you want to go back inside?”

“No,” she said, “no, let’s get in the coach and get the hell away from here.”

When they reached the store, Heck got down from the coach first, looked around, then assisted Carla down. She was followed by Clint.

“You sure you’re okay?” Clint asked the driver.

“I’ll be fine, sir.”

“You want to come inside?”

“No, sir,” the driver said. “I’ll wait out here.”

“Suit yourself.”

In the store they took a moment to check Carla over again. She had no bruises or scrapes that they could see, and she insisted she was fine.

“Let’s get those suits.”

Clint’s were ready. When it came to Heck’s new clothes, Carla decided his didn’t have to be as impeccably tailored as Clint’s, so they bought him a couple of suits off the rack. He tried them on, and approved them.

“Wrap them up,” Carla told the clerk.

“You’ve got good taste, Miss Carla,” Heck said.

“It’s just Carla,” she said, “and thanks.”

“And since you’re dressin’ me, ya might as well call me Heck.”

“Heck,” she said, “I didn’t thank you for saving my life back at the house. Thank you.”

“It weren’t nothin’.”

“How did you know those men were there?” she asked.

“I saw the sun reflectin’ off the metal of their guns.”

“That’s remarkable,” she said.

The clerk came with their packages and they went out to the coach, where the driver—true to his word—was waiting.

“Back to the house to change?” Clint asked Carla.

“No,” she said, “you’re dressed well enough for lunch, but we’ll have to go back so you both can change for supper.”

“Okay,” Clint said.

“You’re the boss,” Heck said.

“Tell your friend that,” Carla said.

Clint ignored the remark as he helped her up into the coach.

“I’m gonna ride with the driver this time,” Heck said.

“Riding shotgun,” Clint said. “Good idea.”

Heck kept a wary eye out for trouble as they drove to the location of the lunch.

“What’s this group supposed to be?”

“It’s the Austin Women’s League,” Carla said.

“Really?”

“You’ll get a lot of contributions from them if they like you.”

“Them or their husbands?”

“Same thing,” she said, “but yes, for the most part the money would come from their husbands.” She patted his arm. “Just be your charming self.”

“I’ll try.”

“I don’t know how you’ll be able to do it,” she said. “To tell you the truth, I’m still shaking. I’ve never been shot at before.”

“Well, it was me they were shooting at, but I see your point,” he said. “Maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Well, maybe somebody else should be doing this job,” Clint suggested.

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head, “this is my job, and I’m going to do it.”

“Well, let’s go then.”

Inside they found Will Gryder waiting for them.

“It’s about time.”

“We had some excitement,” Carla said.

“Tell me about it later.”

“Somebody tried to kill Clint.”

“What?”

“A couple of shots,” Clint said.

“Where?”

“In front of the house.”

“They might have done it, too, but Marshal Thomas saved us.”

“That’s great,” Gryder said, “but these women are waiting to hear from Clint.”

“Hear from me?”

“Sure,” Gryder said, “you have to give a speech.”

“A speech?” Clint said. “You never told me I had to get up in front of a bunch of women and talk.”

“That’s what campaigning is all about, Clint,” Gryder said. “Speeches.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Gryder said. “Come on. Carla, stay with the marshal.”

“Deputy,” Heck said as Gryder rushed Clint away.

“Let’s get a good spot,” Heck said to Carla. “This I gotta see.”

Everyone was surprised, especially Clint. He had the women eating out of the palm of his hand almost from the moment he started speaking. Then the women clamored to ask questions. Gryder finally had to call a halt to the proceedings. It was time for them to have lunch.

Clint found himself sitting among a bunch of women, having chicken for lunch. Gryder was seated at a different table, and Heck and Carla were at a table by themselves—from where Heck had a good view of the room, and Clint.

When the afternoon was over, they all returned to the house, where Gryder was able to see the bullets in the front door.

“Was it close?” he asked.

“The bullets went right over our heads,” Carla said.

They went inside.

“Did you see who fired them?”

“No,” Heck said. “I ran across the way, but they were gone already.”

Gryder looked at Clint.

“This doesn’t come as a surprise to you, does it, Clint?”

“Not really,” Clint said. “Somebody’s always taking a shot at me sooner or later.”

“Okay then,” Gryder said, “maybe it’s a good thing we got this over with now.”

“You think it’s finished?” Carla asked. “If they shot at him once, they might try again.”

“And they probably will,” Heck said.

“And we have the marshal here to see that they miss again.”

“Deputy,” Heck said.

Julius came into the living room at that point and asked, “Is there anything I can do, sir?”

“No, Julius,” Clint said. “We just came back to change clothes.”

“Yes, sir. Shall I draw baths?”

“Baths?” Heck asked, looking at Clint.

“That’s okay,” Clint said. “We’ll just go upstairs and change.”

“Good,” Gryder said. “The next meeting is at three, and then after that we have supper.”

Clint and Heck went upstairs to don some of their new clothes.

They came out of their rooms at the same time, in their new suits.

“How’s it fit?” Clint asked.

“Just fine.” Heck shrugged his shoulders. “A little
tight in the shoulders, because of the shoulder rig. Mine’s not tailored, like yours.”

“Still feels like it’s choking me.”

“Hey, let’s take a look out the windows first from up here.”

“Good idea,” Clint said. “We can use any of the front bedrooms. Come on.”