Outlaw's Reckoning (11 page)

“Just a minute of your time,” Matt said. “That's all I'm asking.”

But the other man barely seemed to listen. All he could do was shake his head and tighten his grip on his shotgun.

The next sound to drift through the air was the brush of iron against leather, followed by the metallic click of a pistol's hammer being thumbed back.

“No need to worry about him,” Clint said as he pointed the Colt at Matt. “If you let him have a word with you, I promise he won't ever bother you again.”

The one-legged man looked over to Clint as if he'd just noticed he was there. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I'm the one who'll pull this trigger if this man so much as thinks about stepping out of line.”

Finally, the one-legged man nodded and lowered his shotgun. “Fine. One minute. That's all he gets.”

Despite the fact that he was no longer staring down the barrel of a shotgun, Matt didn't seem any more comfortable once he was inside. In fact, he was more and more uncomfortable as the tension between him and the one-legged man simmered down to a more hospitable level.

Clint watched Matt carefully for any sign that something might be amiss. So far, the only strange thing he could see was the timid way Matt was carrying himself.

The one-legged man set his shotgun down once he was inside his house, and immediately hobbled toward a small shelf nearby. After taking some fresh shells from an old box on that shelf, he reloaded the shotgun and did his best to keep an eye on Matt and Clint as they stepped inside. Considering the fact that he was also balancing on his crutch, it was quite a show.

“You're Matt Fraley,” the one-legged man said.

“Yes, sir. I am.”

The one-legged man mumbled nervously under his breath while fumbling with the shotgun. Just as he managed to get one of the shells in place, his hand flinched and the shotgun fell from his grasp. He winced in expectation of the loud impact, but slowly opened his eyes when only silence came.

Having been fast enough to lean forward and catch the shotgun before it hit, Clint held the weapon sideways and offered it back to its owner.

“And who're you?” the one-legged man asked.

“My name's Clint Adams.”

The one-legged man blinked and let out a breath. “The Gunsmith?”

“That's what some folks call me. I didn't figure on being recognized so easily though.”

“Plenty of folks heard of the Gunsmith.”

“Yeah,” Clint replied. “But most of those spend twenty hours out of the day in a saloon.”

That brought a smile to the one-legged man's face. Glancing toward Matt, he asked, “Did that one there tell you who I am?”

“Not by name.”

“My name's Abraham Zucker. Of course, he never asked my name when he was holding my family hostage and ruining my life.”

“I'm sorry about that,” Matt said weakly. “I know it ain't much, but—”

Matt was cut short by a sudden knocking on the front door. Zucker grunted and groaned, but motioned for the other two to step back as he made his way to see who'd done the knocking. Once the door was open and Zucker looked outside, Clint tried to get a look for himself, but couldn't see more than two burly shapes standing on the porch.

“There a problem in there?” one of the burly men asked.

Zucker wasn't quick to answer, but that didn't seem to make any of the other two outside very sympathetic.

“What the hell were you shooting at, Abe?” one of the men outside asked.

“Shooting?” Zucker replied.

“Yeah. You may be cripple, but we ain't deaf.”

Zucker hung his head and said, “I . . . thought I saw something.”

The two burly men laughed and leaned forward to get a look inside the house. Even though they had to have seen at least one other stranger inside, they stepped away from the door and threw their last comments over their shoulders as they left.

“Don't fire any more shots in the air,” one said.

“If 'n we come back here again, we're takin' that damned shotgun from you,” the other added.

Zucker pushed the door shut and dragged himself to a chair next to a small table cluttered with bits of food, a couple books and one chipped ceramic mug. “That outlaw you got there probably coulda shot me dead an' nobody around here would care,” he said.

Since there were no more chairs in sight, Clint leaned against a wall. “Why's that?”

“Because of what happened, that's why!” Zucker snapped. “What the hell good is a bank manager that gives up all his money without a fight?”

“You didn't give up without a fight,” Matt said quietly.

Zucker brought his eyes around to glare at Matt as if he was still sighting along the top of his shotgun.

Matt shrugged and added, “Well . . . you didn't.” Seeing that Clint was now staring at him as well, Matt told him, “I needed to do some real convincing to get him to work with me.”

“Convincing while you had his wife and family held hostage?” Clint asked. “Did that include . . . ?”

Matt shook his head slowly. “I didn't harm a hair on any of their heads. I didn't need to.”

“That's right,” Zucker replied. “And when everyone came out fine and dandy, all the folks in town started asking where their money went off to. I swear things would've been easier if you would have shot me rather than just hit me in the leg.”

Clint looked at Matt and then back to Zucker. Actually, his eyes were drawn more to the stub that had been one of Zucker's legs. “You mean you're the one who took his leg?”

“Not me, but one of the boys riding with my gang,” Matt replied. “When we couldn't find the rest of the deposits, we got anxious. I told one of my partners to do some convincing and he let his pistol do his talking.”

“Blasted me right in my goddamned kneecap,” Zucker growled. “Never had something hurt so bad in my life. Wait a second. I did, actually. After the wound turned sour and the doc had to saw off my leg, that was the worst pain in my life.”

Matt winced as he drew in a deep breath.

Digging out a bottle half-full of whiskey, Zucker went on to say, “Even after that, folks around here didn't think it was enough. Those goddamned outlaws hit the bank after the lumber mill deposited their payroll. It took a hell of a while to get that money replaced, and all them mill workers blamed me for not doing my job.”

“What did they expect you to do?” Clint asked. “You were robbed. You got shot, for God's sake.”

“The manager before me was robbed, too, and he only let the robbers get away with a quarter of the funds in the bank,” Zucker explained.

Seeing that Clint was eyeing him sternly, Matt nodded. “We pulled that job, too,” he muttered.

“I guess that explains that!” Zucker snapped.

“Did the mill shut down?” Clint asked.

“No.”

“Then why the grudge?”

“Because I'm not good with that shotgun and I'm not in charge of anyone's job. At least, I wasn't after I was fired from my own.” Holding the whiskey bottle in his hand, Zucker ran his thumb along the smeared glass and said, “Ever since I started drinking this stuff, I barely seem like the educated man I used to be.”

Slowly, Matt reached out to take the bottle. Although Zucker put up a bit of a fight, it didn't take much for Matt to pull the bottle away from him. “Trust me,” Matt said. “You'll be a lot better off once you're not pouring this poison down your throat.”

Once the bottle was out of his grasp, Zucker allowed his empty hand to settle on top of the table like a flower that had been deprived of water. “So what's your business here, anyways? Come by to see about robbing the bank again now that the mill's back on its feet?”

“No,” Matt said. “I wanted to—”

“We wanted to thank you,” Clint interrupted.

“For what?” Zucker asked.

Judging by the way Matt was staring at Clint, he was about to ask that same question.

“For what you did after the robbery,” Clint replied.

After a few seconds of contemplation, Zucker blinked and said, “You mean about that description I gave?”

“There was more than that,” Clint pressed.

Although he was quiet for a while, Zucker began to nod. His face brightened as he said, “I described the whole gang of those outlaws right down to the clothes on their backs and the horses they rode. I just didn't think anyone took any notice.”

Clint smirked and started walking behind Matt. Pulling Matt up by the back of his shirt, Clint said, “I just needed to stop by here to make sure I was talking to the right man. Since you're the one who had a hand in getting the word out, it's only fair that you get a cut of the reward money for this outlaw's capture.”

Zucker brightened up even more, until he seemed to be standing taller on his one leg than the others on their two. “I wasn't thinking about a reward, but it would help out. Would there be enough for me to put a new roof on this place?”

“There'd be enough for you to get a new roof as well as new walls,” Matt said. “It seems to me as if you'd be better off packing up and heading to some other town.”

At first, Zucker glared at Matt as if he was going to push aside anything the other man said. But soon his face softened, and he lowered his head to nod. “Once my girl moved on, my wife took the boy to Kansas. She had some family there and said it would be easier starting over than putting up with the small-minded folks around here.”

“Why didn't you go with them?” Clint asked.

“Because I didn't want these people to think they chased me off. After losing my job and my leg, I didn't want my pride to be taken away next.”

Matt laughed under his breath and looked out one of the dirty windows. “From what I've seen of these assholes, they're not worth going through any trouble to impress. And there's no good reason to lose your family. If going through a bit of trouble is what it takes to keep the missus happy, I'd do it. That is, unless she's not worth the effort.”

“She's worth it, all right,” Zucker said wistfully. “And if you weren't speaking the truth about the rest of it, I would have told you to shut your mouth and mind your own damn business.”

“I wouldn't worry about him, Mr. Zucker,” Clint said. “He's paying what he owes one way or another.”

Zucker looked back and forth between Matt and Clint. With each second that passed, the fire that had been in his eyes dwindled away. “I suppose since he's in your custody and on his way to jail, you'd be right,” he said to Clint. “My wife used to send me letters asking to meet up with her again, but I felt too damned foolish to answer. It's been awhile since I got one of those letters.”

“Do you honestly think she'll turn you away if you go to see her?” Matt asked.

Reflexively, Zucker glared angrily at Matt. He wasn't able to hold onto that anger for more than another few seconds. “No. I can picture the smile she'd give me already. But . . . packing up and leaving for Kansas . . . that's a lot to bite off.”

“What's keeping you here?” Matt asked. “Pride?”

“Missing a leg don't help matters,” Zucker grumbled. “Making a trip like that isn't easy for a healthy man. I barely have enough to scrape by, and my wife doesn't have anything to send me. Even if she did have that kind of money, I wouldn't want to ask her for it.”

“Your cut of the reward should be more than enough to cover a train ticket and whatever expenses you may have,” Clint said. Looking over to Matt, he got a confident nod.

“Unless this bounty hunter's trying to cheat you,” Matt added, “there should be enough for you to ditch this house and everything in it to get a fresh start.”

Zucker hobbled over to Clint and placed a hand on his shoulder. “This man ain't just some bounty hunter. He's a lifesaver. Hell, even without some windfall of money, I should've gone to Kansas a long time ago.”

“After all the trouble you went through to put the word out,” Clint replied, “I'll make sure you get your share. Will you be here for a while longer?”

“Yes, sir. I suppose I need to start packing some things for a trip.”

“I'll come back as soon as I get that bounty money,” Clint said. But Zucker was hardly even listening. Already, the one-legged man was pulling a dusty old carpetbag from under his bed and gathering clothes from various piles to fill it.

When he looked toward Matt, Clint saw the outlaw handing over a rolled-up stack of money. Clint shook his head and quickly motioned for Matt to put the money away. Matt was able to do that a split second before Zucker turned around again.

“If you'd like to earn some more money,” Zucker said, “there's plenty more bounties to be collected.”

“I think this one will keep me going for a while,” Clint replied.

“Maybe, but I'm sure that one there can point you in the direction of the rest of those bandits he rode with. There's been some trouble in these parts lately and I'd wager a few of them are behind it.”

“I'll think about it.”

“You do that,” Zucker said as he made his way to a broken dresser. “You do that.”

Since the one-legged man didn't seem to have much more to say, Clint pushed Matt toward the door and they both stepped outside. After closing the door, Clint kept leading Matt past the horses and to a spot across the street where it seemed they could talk without being overheard.