The Sapphire Gun (15 page)

Seeing the body of his partner laying on the broken floor was enough for the remaining man to piece together what had happened. While firing a shot into the floor, the man in buckskins jumped outside and prepared to fire at the first thing he saw moving beneath the house.

Although he did spot some movement, it wasn't from beneath the house.

Bringing his gun around, the man in buckskins turned toward the house's right corner.

Clint rounded the corner, straightened his arm, and fired his Colt. That bullet whipped through the air and drilled a messy hole through the other man's head.

After making sure there weren't any more assassins lurking about, Clint jumped onto Eclipse's back and rode to town.

The Western Union office was full of people as Clint brought Eclipse to a stop in front of it. Since it was nearing the end of business hours, several people formed a line at the front desk, milled around within the office, and stood at the various tables inside.

Clint swung down from his saddle and strode through the front door, ignoring the annoyed comments he got from the folks that needed to be pushed aside. Glancing from one face to another, Clint didn't find anyone who looked familiar. He also didn't spot a single sapphire.

“We're busy right now,” the young clerk behind the desk announced. “You'll have to wait your turn like everyone else.”

“Where's Galloway?” Clint asked.

The clerk was about the same age as the one that had been there on Clint's previous visits, but he wasn't the same man. This one wore a dented visor over an angular face and had a very pronounced overbite. Even though he looked light enough to be pushed over by a stiff breeze, he didn't even flinch when Clint stormed toward the counter.

“Mr. Galloway's in his office,” the clerk said. “But you'll have to wait if you want to see him.”

Before all of the clerk's words could get out of his mouth, Clint was shoving through more people so he could get to the door at the back of the room marked PRIVATE.

“Sir, you're not allowed in there!” the clerk shouted. As he started to move around the counter, his arm was grabbed by the customer at the front of the line.

“That message needs to be sent!” the customer snapped. “And you'll send it right now or I'll have my money back!”

“Yes, sir.” To Clint, the clerk said, “I'm having you thrown out of here!” The clerk looked around frantically, but couldn't find the person he was searching for.

The only other clerk in the place had already met Clint and had made himself scarce rather than lift a finger against him.

Although Clint wasn't too concerned about either of the clerks, he was relieved to hear the customers assert themselves enough to hold the young man's attention. Galloway's office was unlocked, so Clint stepped inside and immediately shut the door behind him.

Galloway was in there, all right. Unfortunately, he wasn't in any condition to talk.

“God damn it,” Clint muttered as he spotted the man laying facedown on his half of the double-sided desk.

Galloway's arms were positioned in a way that made him look like a doll that had been tossed over a child's shoulder. One rested on a pile of papers, and the other dangled from his shoulder and knocked against one set of drawers.

His eyes were as wide open as his mouth.

As a matter of fact, Galloway's eyes were also open as wide as his throat.

Clint moved toward the desk and his hand rested on the grip of his pistol. The scent of blood hung in the air like a thick, rusty fog. It filled his nose and crept far enough down his throat to trigger a few reflexive gags. After moving one of Galloway's arms aside, Clint was able to see the gash that stretched ear-to-ear along Galloway's neck.

Having seen more than his share of knife wounds, Clint could tell this one had been made by one hell of a sharp blade. The edges of the wound were smooth and neat. The wound was so big that it also made it difficult for him to guess how long Galloway had been laying there. When he heard someone opening the door behind him, Clint turned on his heels and nearly drew his Colt.

“Mr. Galloway, I can . . . Good Lord!” the clerk sputtered as he recoiled at the sight of Galloway's body. “You . . . killed him?”

“He was like this when I found him,” Clint replied. “Who came into this office last?”

The clerk looked as if he was about to say something, but then started backing out the door. Just as he whipped around to bolt out of the office, he was stopped by a vise-like grip around his wrist.

Rather than draw his gun, Clint used that same speed to grab hold of the clerk and stop him from running away. With another quick motion, he pulled the clerk in as if he were reeling in a fish. “Who was the last one in here?” Clint snarled.

“Don't kill me! I swear, I'll keep quiet, just don't kill me!”

“I didn't kill anyone. Open your eyes and maybe you could see as much for yourself.”

The clerk opened his eyes a bit, but it seemed to take more effort than if he'd used a lever.

“I've been in this room for less than a minute,” Clint said. “Less than half a minute, actually. There's no way for a man to get his throat cut, fall over, and bleed out that much in that amount of time.”

Although he didn't say anything, the clerk took another look at Galloway's body. He was also struggling a bit less against Clint's grip.

“Now look at me,” Clint said quickly. “Do you see any blood on me?”

“No.”

“Do you really think I did this and then stuck around here now rather than put you down as well on my way out?”

Losing some of the color in his face, the clerk shook his head again. “I guess not.”

“Good,” Clint said as he slowly released the clerk's arm. “Now tell me who else was in here besides Galloway.”

“There was someone.”

“How long ago?”

“Half an hour or so. It's kind of hard to tell since it got so busy after that.”

“Do you know who it was?” Clint asked.

Slowly, the clerk shook his head. “No, but there was some noise in here after she arrived, and when she walked out, she was pulling on a coat. I just thought they were . . . you know.”

“Yeah,” Clint sighed. “I'm pretty sure I do know.”

The hotel wasn't close to the Western Union office, but it wasn't so far that it couldn't be reached easily by foot. Rosa covered the distance even quicker than normal because she was practically skipping all the way back to her room.

She waved to the man at the front desk and went up the stairs to the room she'd rented not too long ago. After a few quick knocks, the door came open and she could see a sliver of a face peeking out at her. Rosa stared right back at that one eye and pushed the door open.

“Damn, woman,” Mackie growled as he stepped back and pressed a hand to his chin. “You almost knocked my head off.”

Rosa drifted past him and let her fingertips brush against his face. “Awww,” she purred. “You want Momma to kiss it and make it better?”

“That'd be nice.”

“The way I feel right now, I might actually make good on that.” As she said those words, Rosa peeled the coat off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She wore a light brown dress that had a bit of lace on the collar. Dark stains were spattered across her skirt, most of which resembled dark red paint that had flown off a brush in a single, sweeping stroke.

The longer Mackie and Eli looked at her, the more dark red spots they saw. Some were on the bottom of her skirt, and several smaller ones were on her blouse. A few of the drops had even made it to the base of her neck. Rosa licked her fingers and slowly wiped those away.

“It's done,” she said.

Mackie took another look at the hallway before closing and locking the door. “I can see that much. Where'd you find him?”

“In his office. All I had to do was convince his partner to leave us alone.”

“Blevin had an office?”

“He wasn't there.”

Furrowing his brow, Mackie asked, “Then who the hell are you talking about?”

“Galloway.”

“Galloway, as in the man who hired you?”

“Hired us,” she corrected.

Eli had been sitting with his back to a wall cleaning his gun. His legs were resting on the edge of the bed, and the parts of his pistol were situated on a cloth spread over his lap. “Why would you do that?” he asked.

Arching her back as if she were modeling the latest fashion from Paris, Rosa glanced over to Eli and said, “Shut your mouth. You don't get to question me yet.”

“All right,” Mackie said as he stepped between the other two. “I've been with you for a while, so I hope that counts for something.”

“Sure it does,” Rosa said as she ran her hands over the front of her bloody dress.

“Then tell me, why would you do that?”

Eli shook his head and chuckled under his breath as he finished his cleaning and began fitting his gun back together.

“I went to see him just like we discussed,” she replied. “I asked him what happened and where Blevin got off to. He couldn't tell me a damn thing.”

“And you don't think he might have known something useful if you would've taken the time to ask nicely? Jesus Christ, Rosa, bending men around your little finger is yer goddamn specialty.”

She smiled. “I started, but he wouldn't have any of it. He just talked about all the trouble that's been going on since he hired us. He also mentioned how he might just have to forget about this whole thing and hire someone else. He even mentioned going to the law.”

“That's bullshit and you know it,” Mackie grunted. “He's in too deep to go to the law.”

“Yes, but he still wanted this job done, and he sure as hell would go to someone else to get it done.” Spinning so she was facing Mackie straight on, Rosa added, “And are you willing to bet that he wouldn't mention who had this job before?

“Even if he let one of our names slip, odds are someone might know who he's talking about. We can't afford to be connected to a mess like this. We're known as people who can be trusted on any job. When someone hires a Sapphire, someone winds up dead. That's how it is and that's how it'll stay.”

“I don't think that someone should be our client,” Mackie said. “That might not do wonders for our reputation either, you know.”

Rosa reached out to slide her fingertips along the bottom of Mackie's chin. “I know, but that client won't be telling anything to anyone. Nobody even needs to know he was a client.”

When he saw Rosa turn to throw a warning glance at him, Eli held up his hands and said, “Ain't nobody hearing anything from me.”

That seemed to be good enough for her, so she nodded and turned her attention back to Mackie. Rosa put an exaggerated pout on her face and placed both hands on his face. Leaning forward so her lips were brushing against his ear, she asked, “Are you mad at me?”

“I'm just not sure this was the best thing to do,” he said. “I mean, we should be laying low after the way we left Carson City.”

“Nobody even lifted a finger to stop me from doing whatever I wanted in that place,” Rosa said with a smile. “And now we can keep our heads held high and our winning streak going. If anyone asks, we've never even heard of Galloway or Blevin.”

“All right, then. Before you get too busy patting yerself on the back, you should know them other three young-bloods we called out here ain't never showed up again.”

“You mean the ones who were supposed to check out the Blevin place?”

“Them are the ones,” Mackie said.

“I might know what happened to them,” Rosa told him. “Mr. Galloway brought up a name just before he died.”

“Was it the name of someone good enough to take down three armed men all by himself?”

Rosa smiled and nodded. “All that and more. He's even good enough to put one hell of a feather in the Sapphires' caps once word gets around that it was us who killed him.”

Clint waved to the man behind the front desk of his hotel on his way to the little dining room. It wasn't too late to get something for supper, but he wasn't going to expect anything to be too fresh, either. Just as he caught the scent of baked chicken, Clint heard the man behind the desk shout his name.

“Mr. Adams! Someone was asking for you.”

“Was it the sheriff?” Clint asked. “Because I've already had a word with him.”

“No, not the sheriff. She said you both were friends of John Blevin.”

Hearing that put Clint on his toes. His hand drifted toward his pistol as he took a quick look around. As near as he could tell, the only people in sight either worked at the hotel or were eating there. “It's a she?” he asked.

“Most definitely.”

“Did you get her name?”

The clerk winced and shook his head. “Not as such. She was in a hurry.”

“What did she want?”

“I don't know, but I told her you might be back for dinner.”

Clint nodded and started walking into the dining room. “That's where I'm headed now. If she comes back, point her my way.”

“Will do.”

After spotting a table against the wall, Clint walked across the small room and wove between the few other occupied tables. Since he was expecting to see some pretty woman wearing a sapphire pin coming straight at him, the walk seemed doubly long. Clint made it to his seat without incident, though, and put his back to the wall so he could watch the rest of the room.