Read Gunsmith #361 : The Letter of the Law (9781101553657) Online

Authors: J. R. Roberts

Gunsmith #361 : The Letter of the Law (9781101553657) (9 page)

BOOK: Gunsmith #361 : The Letter of the Law (9781101553657)

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“Well, they carried him off to the doctor's and I ain't heard nothin'.”

Clint and Kelly exchanged a glance.

The next stop was the doctor's office.

They hurried out of the saloon.

Kelly knew where the office was. It was a few streets away so they mounted up and rode there. The shingle outside the door said: DOCTOR A. KENNEDY, M.D.

“Doc Kennedy's good people,” Kelly said. “He's come out to the ranch a couple of times to treat one of our hands.”

They tried the door and, for once, found one that wasn't locked.

“Hey, Doc?” Kelly shouted as they entered.

Clint saw that they were in the living room of a house. The doctor probably had his examination room someplace in the back.

Suddenly, a man appeared, coming out of a hallway. He was tall, with steel gray hair even though he didn't seem to be forty yet.

“Kelly, right?” he asked.

“That's right.”

“So somebody notified you?”

“Nobody told us anythin', Doc,” Kelly said. “We came to town looking for the boss and heard that he got shot.”

“That's right,” the doctor said. “There was a robbery at the bank, some shooting. Mr. Dixon came running out of the post office, and before he knew what was happening, he got shot, twice.”

“How bad?” Clint asked.

“Doc, this is Clint Adams,” Kelly said.

“Billy and I are old friends,” Clint said.

“Well, one wound is not serious. He got hit in the shoulder. The other hit him in the stomach, and I'm trying to keep it from getting infected.”

“So he's gonna be all right?” Kelly asked.

“I'll probably know more by tomorrow,” the doctor said.

“How is he now?” Clint asked.

“He's asleep.”

“Can we see him?” Kelly asked.

“I don't want you to wake him up.”

“I just wanna take a look,” Kelly said.

“Well, all right.”

Kelly looked at Clint.

“You go ahead,” Clint said. “I'll stay here with the doc.”

“Okay.”

“You know where the room is,” the doctor said.

Kelly went up the hallway.

“What'd the sheriff say about this?” Clint asked the doc. “What's he doing about it?”

“You haven't heard?” the doc asked.

“Heard what?”

“Well, it was the sheriff who robbed the bank.”

TWENTY-FIVE

“Say that again?” Clint asked.

“The sheriff robbed the bank.”

“Did he shoot Billy?”

“Well,” the doc said, “he had some men with him. One of them might've done it.”

“Do you know who the other men were?”

“They wore masks.”

“Then how do you know it was the sheriff?”

“For some reason his mask came off in the bank and he was recognized.”

“Anybody hurt?”

“The bank manager was killed,” the doc said, “and it was the sheriff who shot him. There were witnesses.”

“How many men with him?”

“I'm not sure,” Doc said, “I heard three, or four.”

Kelly came back.

“He looks bad,” he said. “Pale, and small.”

“He's in bad shape,” the doctor said, “but tomorrow may be better.”

“Doc, there are no deputies in town?”

“No.”

“So what's being done about this?”

“As far as I know, nothing.”

“What's goin' on?” Kelly asked.

“Come on,” Clint said, “I'll tell you on the way.”

“On the way where?” Kelly asked as they went outside.

Clint stopped.

That was a good question.

The sheriff's office was locked, City Hall was closed, as was the bank.

“How do we find out what's goin' on?” Kelly asked.

“Must be somebody from the town council in a saloon,” Clint said. “Maybe even the mayor.”

“So we just check the saloons?”

Clint nodded, said, “And see what we can find out. Otherwise, we'll have to stay 'til morning and go to City Hall.”

“I wanna know somethin' now!” Kelly said. “I sure didn't like seein' the boss lyin' there in the doc's office.”

They tried the Tumbleweed again. The bartender was unable to point out anyone from the town council who might be there.

“The mayor definitely ain't here,” he said. “He's a teetotaler, wouldn't be caught dead in a saloon.”

“That's so?” Clint asked.

“We better check the other saloons,” Kelly said.

“Wait a minute,” Clint said, then turned back to the bartender. “You wouldn't happen to know where the mayor lives, would you?”

The bartender smiled.

Clint and Kelly rode to a residential section of town, where the bartender said the mayor had a big house.

“You can't miss it,” he said. “It's the only two-story house in town.”

He was right. It stood out among all the other small, one-story homes.

They rode right up to it, dismounted, and tied their horses off to a pole out front. They climbed the five stairs to the front door and knocked.

A large man with grease on his face and a napkin tied around his neck answered.

“What the hellâ” he said. “We're eatin' our dinner.”

“Are you the mayor?” Clint asked.

“That's right, Mayor Corby,” the man said. “What do youâ”

“Let's talk inside,” Clint said. He put his hand against the man's chest and pushed him back into the house.

“What's goin' onâ” he started to demand, but they followed him in and Kelly slammed the door.

“Dear, what's wrong?” a woman's voice called out. “Who is it?”

“That's my wife,” the mayor said. “Don't hurt her.”

“We're not here to hurt anyone, Mayor,” Clint said. “We're here to talk about today's bank robbery. Just tell her you'll be there in a minute.”

“I'll be there inâin a minute, love,” the mayor called out. “It's just some . . . city business.”

“Don't they know not to bother you at home?” she asked wearily.

“We'll make it fast,” Clint said. “What's being done about the robbery?”

“Nothin' yet,” the Mayor said. “I'm gonna send a telegram to the Texas Rangers tomorrow.”

“And if they agree to come, how long will it take?” Clint asked.

“Probably three days to get here.”

“That's not soon enough,” Kelly said. “They'll be gone by then.”

“Who are you men?”

“My name's Kelly,” Kelly said. “I'm the foreman on Billy Dixon's ranch.”

“Too bad about Dixon. How is he?”

“Still alive,” Clint said.

“And you?”

“I'm Clint Adams.”

The mayor's eyes widened.

“I heard you were in town, but I thought you left,” he said.

“Well, I'm back. Look, you've got to send someone after those bank robbers.”

“That's the problem with havin' your sheriff rob the bank,” the mayor said. “You don't have anyone to send after 'em. Unless you . . .”

Clint stared back at the man for a few moments, then said, “Well, damn it, if there's no one else.”

“I'll go with you,” Kelly said. “The rest of the men will, too, if we have time to get them.”

“Wait a minute,” the mayor said, and disappeared into his house. He returned a moment later, holding out the sheriff's badge.

“He left this at the bank. I had it in my pocket when I came home.” He held it out to Clint. “You take it.”

“Not me,” Clint said. “Kelly, you take it.”

The mayor held it out to the foreman.

“You'll need some official standing.”

Kelly hesitated, then accepted the badge.

“Don't we need some words?” he asked.

“Consider yourself sworn in,” the mayor said. “Here.” He took the badge back and pinned it on the foreman's chest.

“We can get an early start in the morning,” Clint said. “We won't be able to track them at night.”

“The town appreciates this, men.”

“Yeah, well,” Clint said. “We're doing it for Billy Dixon.”

“Whatever the reason,” the mayor said, “come by my office in the morning and I'll give you a few deputies' badges, just in case you can recruit anyone.”

“We'll see you in the morning, Mayor,” Clint said. “Sorry we interrupted your supper.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Clint and Kelly left the house, stopped just outside the door. Kelly looked down at the badge on his chest.

“Sure didn't expect this when I woke up this morning,” he said.

TWENTY-SIX

Clint and Kelly went back to the Tumbleweed.

“Hey,” the bartender said, “looks like you made some progress.” He drew two beers and set them down. “On the house . . . Sheriff.”

“Is there anybody in here who works at the bank?” Clint asked.

“Lemme see.” The man looked out over the sea of faces in the place.

“Or maybe just somebody who was in the bank when it was robbed?” Kelly asked. “Or outside of it?”

“I think I saw Andy Sawyer in here before,” the bartender said. “He was telling folks how he was in the bank just minutes before the robbery, and that he saw everything from across the street.”

“Okay,” Clint said, “where is Sawyer?”

“Here comes Delores,” the bartender said. “Ask her if she's seen him?”

Delores came over to the bar and settled herself between Clint and Kelly, leaning on Clint.

“I bet you're not here to see me,” she said.

“We're looking for Andy Sawyer,” Clint said.

She craned her neck and said, “I think I saw him sittin' near the back with some friends . . . yeah, there he is.”

“Where?” Clint asked.

“All the way in the back, but red hair that kinda stands up on his head, like he was hit by lightning or somethin'.”

Clint could see the shock of red hair from across the room.

“What's he drinking?” he asked.

“Whiskey.”

“Bring him one on me,” Clint said.

“He's got a bottle, but it's almost empty.”

“Then bring him another one.”

“Okay.”

She turned to the bartender, who handed her a full bottle. Clint paid the man for it while she took it to Sawyer. When she handed it to him, she pointed to the bar, and Clint raised his beer mug. Sawyer grinned and accepted the bottle.

“Let's go,” Clint said, “before he gets too drunk to talk.”

“Just remember one thing when you talk to him,” the bartender suggested.

“What's that?”

“Andy Sawyer is a big liar.”

By the time they reached Sawyer, he already had the new bottle open. Clint grabbed it out of his hand.

“Hey!” Sawyer complained. “You just bought that for me.”

“We need you to answer a few questions first,” Clint said.

Kelly looked at the two men who were sitting with Sawyer and said, “Get lost.”

They did.

“Hey, you scared my friends away!”

“So when I give you back the bottle,” Clint said, “you won't have to share it with anybody.”

Sawyer thought for a moment then a toothless grin spread over his freckled face and he said, “Hey, yeah!”

Clint and Kelly took the chairs Sawyer's two friends had just vacated.

“What's this all about?” Sawyer asked.

“The bank robbery today,” Clint said. “You've been telling people you were in the bank moments before the robbery, and that you saw everything from across the street.”

“I was,” Sawyer said. “I did . . . I saw everything.”

“You saw everything that happened outside the bank,” Clint clarified.

“That's right.”

“Tell us.”

“Tell you what?”

“Everything you saw,” Clint said. “Come on.”

“Okay, okay,” Sawyer said. “I came out of the bank and crossed the street. I went into Little Jim's but I couldn't get a drink because he wasn't there. I came back out and saw the men come running out of the bankâoh, after a couple of shots.”

“That's when Garver shot the bank manager,” Clint said. “Go ahead.”

“Well, the men came runnin' out and got on their horses.

They started to ride out, and I saw the postmaster come out of the post office.”

“Did he have a gun?” Kelly asked.

“He had a rifle.”

“Okay,” Clint said, “go ahead.”

“The postmaster came out, looked around, but before he knew what was happening, they were on him. One of them shot him twice.”

“What about the men?”

“What about them?”

“Well, how many of them were there?”

“Four.”

“What did they look like?”