Missing Patriarch (9781101613399) (4 page)

ELEVEN

Jimmy McCall drained his whiskey glass, then lifted the bottle and refilled it.

“You don't wanna drink too much of that stuff, Jimmy boy,” Andy Donovan warned him. “It'll knock you on your ass.”

Ted Drake laughed uproariously until Donovan stopped him with a stare.

“Maybe I don't care,” McCall said.

“Jimmy, I can't have you bein' too hungover tomorrow,” Donovan said. “We got a job to do.”

McCall looked over at the other four men who were standing at the bar, drinking and laughing.

“What about them?” he asked.

“Them? They're always hungover. They work better that way. You, Jimmy, I need you to be thinkin' straight. They don't have to think to do what they do. They wouldn't be very good at it anyway.”

McCall shrugged and started to lift the glass. Donovan put his big hand on the other man's forearm, stopping him.

“Look, I know you're sorry you left your kids, and you feel guilty about it. I know you wanna see them again. You miss 'em. They're probably cute little tykes. But look at it this way. When you do go back home, you'll be taking a lot of money with you.”

“And when will I be seein' some of that money, Andy?” McCall asked. “Some of this money you told me I'd be makin' if I joined you?”

Donovan looked at Drake.

“Go to the bar and tell those idiots to stop drinkin',” he said.

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said,” Donovan snapped. “Just go tell them to stop drinkin' and start fuckin'. They won't mind that so much.”

“Gotcha, boss.”

Drake got up and walked over to the bar to join the other men.

“Jimmy,” Donovan said, “we'll be splittin' our profits soon. But why don't you face it? If I had given you any before now, you probably would've drunk it all away.”

McCall gave that a moment's thought, figured Donovan was probably right. The big man removed his hand and McCall downed the whiskey.

“Why don't you go to the cathouse and fuck for a while?” Donovan asked.

McCall filled his glass gloomily.

“Oh wait,” Donovan said, “you're still mournin' your wife, right?”

McCall drank. Reminding him of his dead wife was not the way to stop him from drinking.

“Jimmy, Jimmy . . .”

“Andy, relax,” McCall said. “I'm the one member of this gang that you can count on and you know it.”

“I do know it,” Donovan said. “That's why I want you sober.”

“Why don't you go and do some fuckin'?” McCall asked. “I'll be goin' to my room soon.”

“Yeah, you're right,” Donovan said. “I could use some time in the sack with a woman. Maybe two.”

He looked over at the bar. The men had obviously taken his suggestion, because they were all gone—including Ted Drake.

“Okay, Jimmy,” he said, standing, “I'll take you at your word. You'll be sober and ready come mornin'.”

“You have my word, Andy.”

Donovan slapped McCall on the back and left the saloon. McCall poured himself another drink.

TWELVE

Clint slid his hard cock up into Amy's wet pussy, virtually gliding home. She wrapped those powerful thighs around his waist and he proceeded to fuck her hard. They'd been gentle with each other long enough. Now was the time to just take what they wanted from each other.

She matched his rhythm, lifting her hips each time he drove into her, so that the room filled not only with the smells of sex, but the sound of wet flesh slapping wet flesh.

“Oh, yes, come on,” she grunted, pulling on him, scratching his back, doing what she could to urge him on and on . . .

Her breath began coming in hard gulps, and then suddenly he felt her body tense, and then spasm. She cried out and then he followed, bellowing out loud as he erupted inside her. He came in hard spurts, and when he thought he was done, she continued to milk him with her insides, until it was an exquisite combination of pleasure and pain . . .

*   *   *

Clint left Amy's room while she was still dozing in bed. He thought he might return later, rather than sleep in his hotel room. She was quite a girl.

He stopped in the nearest saloon, a small one called the Silver Spur, and had a leisurely beer at the bar. After a few moments a man entered and joined him at the bar. It was the lawyer, Hackett.

“There you are,” he said. “I've been looking for you.”

“Buy you a beer?” Clint asked.

“Why not?”

Clint signaled the bartender for two more.

“What's on your mind?”

“That poker game I promised you?” Hackett said. “I'm having some trouble coming up with players.”

“That's okay,” Clint said. “I may not be around that much longer.”

“Oh?” Hackett said. “Is the sheriff running you out of town?”

“No, nothing like that,” Clint said. “Just time to be on my way.”

“I see,” Hackett said. He finished the beer, set the empty mug down. “Well, I'm sorry we couldn't square off again at the table. Maybe another time.”

“Maybe,” Clint said. “Oh, and by the way, thanks for the help with the sheriff.”

“No trouble,” Hackett said. “I just told him what I saw.”

Hackett waved and left the Spur.

*   *   *

Jenny got out of her bed, saw her brother Jason standing by the front door. The door was open and he was staring out.

“Jason, what's wrong?” she asked.

“Nothin'.”

She came up alongside him.

“Somethin's on your mind.”

“I just wish I could go lookin' for Pa myself,” he said.

“We need you here, Jace,” she said, taking hold of his arm.

He looked at her and said, “I know. It's just . . . he's out there somewhere, probably in trouble, tryin' to get some money for us. I just wanna help him.”

“You are,” she said. “You're helpin' him by takin' care of us.”

He looked back out the door.

“Clint will find him,” she said. “I know he will.”

“I wish he could leave right away.”

“He'll go as soon as his horse can,” she said. “I trust him, Jace.”

He looked at his sister again.

“You better get some sleep.”

“You, too.”

“I will,” he said. “I promise.”

The cabin had two bedrooms. Jenny shared one with her sister, Jesse. Jason shared the other one with Simon.

Jason stood in the doorway a few minutes longer, then closed it and went back to his room. He tried to get into the bed he shared with his brother without waking Simon, but the boy stirred.

“What's goin' on?” he asked.

“Nothin',” Jason said, “go back to sleep.” He settled on his back.

“Jace?”

“Yeah?”

“You ain't gonna leave us, are ya?”

Jason turned his head to look at his little brother.

“What makes you think I'd leave you, Simon?”

“Ma left,” the boy said, “and Pa left.”

“Ma died, Simon,” Jason said, “and Pa's comin' back. And I ain't leavin'.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise. Go to sleep.”

“Yes, Jace.”

Simon closed his eyes.

Jason stared at the ceiling for about ten minutes, and then his eyes closed.

THIRTEEN

Clint went back to Amy's later that evening and knocked on the door. She opened the door and smiled at him.

“I was hoping you'd come back,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Come in,” she said. “I have something on the stove.”

He walked in and took a deep breath.

“It smells great.”

“Stew,” she said. “I made it myself. Sit.”

He sat at the table and she returned with two bowls of fragrant, dark stew.

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

She set it in front of him.

“I made it the way you like it,” she said. “Dark and strong.”

“Wow,” he said after one taste, “this stew is great.”

“Secret ingredient,” she said.

“What is it?”

“If I told you,” she said, “it wouldn't be a secret, would it?”

“I guess not.”

“So just shut up and eat it.”

He did both.

*   *   *

They sat together later on her sofa with coffee.

“I feel bad for those kids,” she said.

“So do I.”

She looked at him.

“Do you think you'll be able to find him?”

“Find who?”

“I'm not stupid, Clint,” she said. “I know Jimmy left. They want you to find him and bring him back, right?”

“Well . . .”

“I'm not going to tell anyone,” she said. “I know those kids don't want to be split up.”

“I think I can find him.”

“How?”

“Jason had one piece of helpful information.”

“And what was that?”

“He said his dad talked about a man named Donovan.”

“And that was helpful?”

“If he was talking about Andy Donovan, then yeah,” Clint said.

“Who's Andy Donovan?”

“An outlaw,” Clint said, “and if Jimmy McCall joined his band of cutthroats, then he's in trouble.”

“Jimmy's no outlaw,” she said. “I mean, he's not perfect, but he's no cutthroat.”

“Maybe not,” Clint said, “but if he rides with them, it could be just as bad. And there's another thing I know about Donovan.”

“What's that?”

“He doesn't like to share,” Clint said. “He'd kill his own men for a bigger share of the loot.”

“What loot?”

“Whatever loot they're after,” Clint said. “Banks, stagecoaches, trains, Donovan doesn't care.”

“Jimmy is smart, Clint,” she said, “but he doesn't always make the right decision.”

“Then I guess he's running true to form,” he said. “Riding with Andy Donovan is never a good choice.”

“But . . . how would he know such a man?”

“I don't know,” Clint said. “Maybe they're old friends.”

“If they were, would Donovan still kill him?”

“Donovan would kill his own mother for a bigger cut,” Clint said.

“Jesus,” she said, “then I guess you better find him and bring him back to those kids.”

“That's what I intend to do.”

“When?”

“I'll check on my horse tomorrow, see if he's ready to go,” Clint said.

“And if he isn't?”

“I might just have to rent a horse,” he said, “although I prefer a mount I can count on. Especially if I have to go up against Andy Donovan and his boys.”

“And you're gonna do this for nineteen dollars and fifty-eight cents?”

“No,” Clint said, “I'm going to do it for those kids. I told them to keep the money, spend it on supplies.”

“So you'll use your own money to rent a horse?”

“I won't have much choice,” he said.

“I wish I had some money to give you.”

“I have all the money I need. Plus it's not your responsibility.”

“It's not yours either,” she said, “but you're gonna do it anyway.”

“Somebody's got to help those kids,” Clint said. “They can't keep living out there alone. If I don't bring their father back, something's going to have to be done.”

“They'll be split up.”

“They'll probably be better off.”

She snuggled up closer to him, put her head on his shoulder.

“You tell me when you're leavin',” she said. “I'll look out for them until you get back.”

“Okay,” he said, putting his arms around her, “that'll work. We'll deal with the rest when I get back, with or without their father.”

FOURTEEN

The next morning Clint awoke on the sofa with Amy still lying on him. He slid out from beneath her without waking her, and left. When he got to the livery, Rufus was already there, working.

“Rufus, I need my horse,” he said.

The older man looked at him, then said, “Well, let's take a look.”

They went to Eclipse's stall and lifted his leg to look at the hoof.

“It's not too bad,” Rufus said.

“I need to ride, Rufus,” Clint said. “I need my horse. What can you do to protect that spot?”

“Well,” Rufus said, “I can put another shoe on, a thicker one, with a, sort of, shield. So's he don't bruise that same spot.”

“Okay,” Clint said, “okay, do that. When can you have it done?”

“This afternoon,” Rufus said. “You can have him at noon.”

“Okay,” Clint said. “Noon it is. Thanks, Rufus.”

*   *   *

Clint went to the mercantile to pick up a few supplies, just enough so that he could carry them with him without a packhorse. After that he went to the telegraph office and sent off a couple of telegrams. His two most trustworthy sources for information were his friend Rick Hartman in Labyrinth, Texas, and the private detective Talbot Roper in Denver. He asked them both if they had any information about the whereabouts of Andy Donovan and his gang. He hoped to have almost immediate responses. Getting one from Hartman probably wouldn't be a problem, since the man rarely left Labyrinth. Tal Roper, however, might be away from Denver on a case. It remained to be seen.

*   *   *

At noon Clint returned to the livery to collect Eclipse. Rufus had him saddled and ready to go.

“He's movin' pretty well,” he said, “but I wouldn't push him.”

“I'll try not to.”

He decided to walk the Darley Arabian out to the McCall house to talk to the kids before he left. He found all four of them outside, doing chores.

“Wow!” Simon said when he spotted them coming. “Is that your horse?”

“He sure is.”

“What's his name?”

“Eclipse.”

“He's beautiful,” Jesse said with shining eyes.

The two small ones approached Eclipse, who lowered his head so they could pet him.

“Jesse, Simon, be careful,” Jenny called.

“It's all right,” Clint said. “He won't hurt children.”

Jason came walking over.

“Are you leavin'?”

“Gettin' ready to.” He pointed to the burlap bag he had tied to his saddle. “I've got some supplies. I'm just waiting for a couple of telegrams that may help me find your dad.”

“Really?” Jenny asked. “You might find him fast?”

“I don't know about fast,” he told her, “but I'll find him. You and Jason just have to make sure you take care of your brother and sister.”

“We will,” Jenny said.

“Amy, from the café, will be coming out to check on you from time to time.”

“You told her—” Jason started to accuse him.

“I didn't have to tell her anything,” Clint said. “She knew your father was gone. And she won't tell anybody. She's just going to come out and see that you're doing okay.”

“We don't need no checkin' up on,” Jason said sullenly.

“Well, you're going to get it,” Clint said, “and you better be polite to her. She might even bring you some food.”

“Yummy,” Simon said.

“Okay,” Jason said to his siblings, “everybody back to work.”

They all went back to what they were doing before Clint arrived.

Jason moved up closer so that his brother and sisters wouldn't hear him.

“Clint,” he said, keeping his voice low, “if you find our pa and he's dead, you'll tell me, right?”

“Of course I'll tell you,” Clint said. “I'll come back here and tell you, Jason. I won't send you a telegram.”

“That's good,” Jason said, “but you gotta tell me, and then I'll tell them.”

“Let's deal with that if it happens, Jason,” Clint said. “No sense thinking the worst.”

“A-All right.”

“You're a good man, Jason,” Clint said. “Watch out for your family.”

“Yes, sir,” Jason said, “I will.”