Missing Patriarch (9781101613399) (11 page)

THIRTY-SEVEN

Jimmy McCall was sitting in the cantina, working on a bottle of tequila. It was time for somebody from the gang to come into town and get the information he'd collected. He doubted Donovan would come himself, and the
segundo
was no longer a trusted ally. For this reason McCall expected the Mexican, Rodrigo, to come in. So he wasn't surprised when the Mexican walked in.

“Hello,
amigo
,” he said, sitting with McCall.

McCall had two glasses on the table. He pushed one at Rodrigo, who filled it himself from the bottle.

“Gracias,”
he said, and downed it. “You were expecting me, eh?”

“I was.”

“Bueno,”
Rodrigo said. “
Señor
Donovan told me you were good. He told me you would not be surprised when I walked in.”

“He knows me pretty well.”

“That is also what he said,” Rodrigo said, pouring himself another drink.

“Okay,” McCall said, “let me give you the rundown here.”

“Bueno,”
Rodrigo said, “that is what I am here for. The—how do you say?—rundown.”

McCall told Rodrigo about the town first, then about the bank.

“They have two guards on the inside,” he finished. “Both armed.”

“No guards outside?”

“No,” McCall said, “but they have a sheriff and two deputies.”

“What are they like?”

“The sheriff is experienced,” McCall said, “but the deputies are young. I don't think they'll be that much trouble.”

“Very good.”

“In fact,” McCall said, “I think we can take care of them even before we go into the bank.”

“How?”

McCall told him his plan.

“I will tell Donovan what you have said,” Rodrigo said. “He will be pleased.”

“I think so, too.”

“How much attention have you attracted?”

“Not much,” McCall said. “There are a lot of other gringos in town. I've played poker with some of them, so I've kind of started to blend in.”

“That is good.”

Rodrigo stood up. Nobody in the cantina was paying them any special attention.

“You better walk out alone,” McCall said. “I'll just stay here awhile longer.”

“I will see you soon,” the Mexican said, and left.

McCall heard his horse as the man rode out of town. Then he stood up, went to the bar, got a beer, and carried it back to the table. He finished it with the rest of the tequila.

*   *   *

When Rodrigo reached the camp, he waved at Long, who was on watch, and rode in. Donovan waited for him to dismount.

“Did you see McCall?”

“
Sí, señor
.”

“And?”

“You were right,” Rodrigo said. “He is very good at his job.”

“Good,” Donovan said. “Come over to the fire and tell me what he said. Every detail.”

“
Sí, patron
.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

Clint and Willis looked down at the outlaw camp. There was a man on watch, but they had come from behind without being seen.

“Not much of a watchman if we were able to sneak up on them,” Willis said.

“It's just a habit,” Clint said. “I'm sure they're not expecting a posse at this point.”

“Do you see your man?”

“Well, I've never seen McCall before, but I do have a description,” Clint said. “I think I'd be able to spot him.”

“From here?”

“He's got red hair.”

“Ah,” Willis said. “That would help.”

As they watched, they counted. Both of them came to a total of seven men, but not one with red hair.

“Okay,” Clint said, “this is gold.”

“What is?”

“He's not there,” Clint said. “That means he's in town, scouting.”

“So we go to town?”

“And find him, and take him back home.”

“What about Donovan and his gang?”

“Maybe McCall will help us catch them,” Clint said. “But first we have to find him and talk to him.”

“We have to get into that town without the gang seeing us.”

“Right,” Clint said. “We'll have to circle around and come into town from another direction.”

“And hope the gang doesn't hit the bank while we're doing that.”

“Right,” Clint said, “so we better get moving.”

*   *   *

Rodrigo finished telling Donovan about McCall's plan to get the lawmen out of the way before they hit the bank.

“I like it,” Donovan said.

“I thought you would,
señor
,” Rodrigo said. “It is a good plan, no?”

“It's a very good plan,” Donovan said. “It's the reason I recruited Jimmy in the first place.”

“But . . . you still intend to kill him?”

“At some point,” Donovan said, “yeah, but that don't mean I'll be happy about it.”

*   *   *

Clint and Willis rode to the east before turning and heading for the town of Casa Madera. They were relieved when they rode in and did not find a gun battle going on in front of the bank.

“Maybe they robbed it and they're gone,” Willis said.

“I don't think so.”

“Why not?”

“No gunfire.”

“How do you know?”

“I'd be able to smell it in the air.”

As they rode down the street, they passed hotels, cantinas, a mercantile, a hardware store, a dress shop, and more small stores in new buildings.

“This is a growing town,” Willis said. “The bank would be ripe.”

“And we have to make sure it doesn't get plucked.”

“So where to first? The sheriff?” Willis asked.

“As much as I'd like a beer first, yeah, the sheriff,” Clint said.

“Well, a beer wouldn't be too bad,” Willis observed.

Clint looked at him, then said, “Yeah, okay, a beer first.”

THIRTY-NINE

Clint and Willis entered the cantina and ordered two beers. The place was new, with a shiny oak bar with gold trim.

“Not many towns like this in Mexico,” Clint said. “Not yet anyway.”

They looked around, saw a few men sitting at tables, nursing drinks. Then Clint's eyes fell on one of them in particular. He nudged Willis.

“What?”

Clint jerked his chin, and Willis looked. He saw a man, a gringo sitting at a table by himself with a beer mug and a bottle of tequila.

And he had red hair.

“Jesus,” he said, “what a coincidence, huh?”

“I don't know, Lou,” Clint said. “Let's find out.”

They carried their beers to the man's table and looked down at him. Eventually the man raised his head and stared back.

“What?” he said.

“Jimmy McCall?”

“Who wants to know?”

“Your kids sent me.”

“What do you know about my kids?” McCall demanded.

“I know they miss you,” Clint said, “and they need you.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Clint Adams,” Clint said. “This is Lou Willis. He's from the town of Windspring. You remember that town?”

McCall lowered his eyes, and his head. “I—I remember.”

He was ashamed. Clint found that encouraging.

“Can we sit?”

“Sure,” McCall said. “Why not?”

Clint and Willis pulled up chairs.

“Did you really see my kids?” McCall asked.

“I did.”

“How are they?”

“Jason is doing the best he can,” Clint said. “So is Jenny. But they need you.”

“I know,” McCall said. “I'm tryin' to get back to them.”

“By riding with Donovan?”

McCall looked at Clint.

“You pretty much know everythin', huh?”

“I know you're in this town to scout the bank,” Clint said. “I know the gang is camped just south of here. And I know if you leave with us now and go back to your kids, you could save yourself a lot of trouble.”

“If I try to leave, Donovan will kill me.”

“I'll make sure you get home safely,” Clint said. “I promised that to your kids.”

“But Donovan would come there lookin' for me,” McCall said. “My kids could get hurt.”

He had a point.

“Besides,” McCall added, “I was in Windspring, part of that job. People died. I'd have to pay for that.”

“Did you kill anyone?”

“No,” McCall said, “I just scouted the job.”

“Then I think if we could return the money, there'd be no need to turn you in.” Clint looked at the lawyer. “What about it?”

“I think I can get the mayor to agree to that,” Willis said.

“What do you say?” Clint asked.

“They're comin' in today,” McCall said. “Seven of 'em.”

“What are they waiting for?” Clint asked.

“I'm supposed to get the law out of the way.”

“What is the law here?” Clint asked. “How many?”

“Sheriff, two deputies.”

“Experienced?”

“The sheriff, yeah, but the two deputies look wet behind the ears.”

Clint took a moment to consider the situation.

“We can't just ride out without warning the bank,” McCall said.

“No,” Clint said, “we have to do more than warn them. We'll have to help them.”

“How?” Willis asked.

“We'll talk to the law,” Clint said. “Set something up. The gang may have more men, but if we're ready for them, that might even the odds.”

“What if the sheriff don't believe us?” McCall asked.

“We'll make him believe us,” Clint said. “Where's the harm in being ready?”

“We'd better do it soon, then,” McCall said.

“You're willing?” Clint asked.

“If it'll get me out from underneath Donovan, yeah. Even though I'll have to go home without the money I came for.”

Clint decided to address that problem when the time came.

FORTY

The three of them walked to the sheriff's office, where they found the lawman seated behind a large desk. The building was new, still smelled of fresh-cut wood. The usual potbelly stove had been replaced here by a newer-looking stove, good for cooking as well as heat. There was a pot of coffee on it. No deputies in sight.

“Sheriff,” Clint said.

“Can I help you, boys?” the lawman asked.

“Nice setup you got here.” Plenty of rifles on a locked rack, clean floor even back in the cell block.

“After some of the offices I've worked in . . .” the lawman said with a chuckle.

“Been at it a long time, have you?” Clint asked.

“The law? More than twenty years.”

“Then you must be used to trusting your instincts.”

“I am,” the sheriff said. “And my instincts are tellin' me now that you're leadin' up to somethin'.”

“My name's Clint Adams, Sheriff,” he said, “and I have a story to tell you . . .”

*   *   *

To his credit, the sheriff—whose name was Latham—listened quietly, did not ask any questions until Clint was finished.

The lawman looked directly at Jimmy McCall and said, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When are they comin' in?”

“It should be today,” McCall said.

“Minutes? Hours?”

“Hours,” Jimmy said. “They're waitin' for me to . . . to take care of you and your deputies.”

“Then we better get movin',” Latham said. He stood up, grabbed his hat, and jammed it on his head. “I'll need to find my deputies, and talk to the bank manager. Mr. Adams, you have any suggestions?”

“I think the most experienced of us should be on the outside, Sheriff,” Clint said. “We can put Willis here and your deputies inside.”

“Makes sense,” Latham said. “You think of anythin' else, just let me know. I'm open to any other suggestions.”

“Good to know, Sheriff,” Clint said.

They followed the lawman out.

*   *   *

Donovan looked up at the position of the sun, then waved Carter over to where he and Rodrigo were seated.

“Get the men mounted,” he said. “Time to go in.”

“How we gonna play it?” Carter asked.

“Same as last time,” Donovan said.

“Last time we stayed in town awhile.”

“Well, this time we're gonna ride directly up to the bank,” Donovan said. “From that point on, it'll be the same. Except I want Booth on the outside, with the horses. We don't need him killin' somebody for no reason again.”

“Right.”

Carter walked over to the men, spoke briefly, and then they all started saddling their horses, happy that there was going to be some action.

“You ready?” Donovan asked Rodrigo.

“I am ready for anythin',
señor
.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Donovan said. “Let's get our horses saddled.”

“Señor,”
Rodrigo asked, “you want me inside or out?”

“Inside,” Donovan said, “and if any of these idiots looks ready to kill a teller, you kill them. Got it?”

“I got it,
señor
.”

*   *   *

They managed to round up both deputies, and Latham introduced them to Clint, Willis, and McCall. He did not mention to them that McCall was formerly part of the gang. It wouldn't have mattered, though. Both young men were thrilled to meet the Gunsmith, and that was all they were concerned with.

“You boys will be inside the bank with the guards,” Latham said, “and Mr. Willis here.”

“Aw, Sheriff,” one deputy said, “why can't we be outside?”

“I need you boys inside to make sure the people are safe,” Latham said. “Understand? Their lives will be in your hands.”

“Okay,” one deputy said.

“Yes, sir,” the other agreed.

“All right. Let's get into position. I'll come inside long enough to talk to Mr. Britton, the manager.”

They headed for the bank. Clint and McCall were going to take up a position outside, soon to be joined by Latham.

“Sheriff?” Clint said as they approached the bank building.

“Yeah?”

“On their last job, some tellers got shot,” Clint said. “I think some of Donovan's men are jumpy.”

“What are you suggestin'?”

“I think we should stop them before any of them go into the bank.”

“You might have a point,” the lawman said. “I'll station the deputies and the guards by the windows. “When the shootin' starts, they can join in from there.”

“Good idea.”

“Appreciate your help on this, Adams.”

“I'm just hoping we can get this done with no fatalities.”

“Except for the bank robbers.”

“Yes,” Clint said, “except for them.”

It would work to Jimmy McCall's benefit if Donovan were to catch a bullet and be killed. Then he wouldn't have to worry about the man coming for him, maybe even after a stint in jail.

Clint looked at McCall, figured he was thinking the same thing.

“Come in,” he said to Jimmy, “let's get into position.”