Outlaw's Reckoning (18 page)

Even after all the times Matt had thought about what this moment would be like, when it finally came, he didn't seem prepared for it.

Even after all the times he'd imagined this reunion, it had somehow wound up better than he could have hoped.

Clint didn't like the way things were panning out.

Recognizing the look in Matt's eyes when he'd even started to discuss the woman he'd come to visit, Clint knew better than to try and pry him away from that house anytime soon. Still, Clint couldn't just sit by and do nothing when he saw the other riders closing in on Saddlewood from the northwest.

The first one had arrived a few minutes after Matt had gone into Faith's house. Clint hadn't thought too much of it, since there were bound to be a few others riding into Saddlewood for one reason or another. Normally, Clint wouldn't have even been too suspicious when the next rider arrived.

The third one in such a short amount of time, however, had been more than enough to get him nervous.

Clint had tried to get a good look at each rider through his spyglass, but couldn't see more than a portion of a face before the rider disappeared behind a building or simply moved too quickly for Clint to keep up. He didn't need to see much to know the riders weren't arriving in Saddlewood just to water their horses or get something to eat.

Dropping his spyglass into his saddlebag, Clint flicked his reins to get Eclipse moving into town. The Darley Arabiancarried him quickly to the solitary street. Since he figured Ben or his men would have spotted him already, Clint wasn't too worried about staying out of sight.

When he felt the hairs raise along the back of his neck, Clint snapped his reins again so he could get to some cover before someone could take a shot at him from an unseen vantage point. Whether that was just a nervous reflex or a life-saving instinct, Clint would never know. He did know that he made it to the edge of the street without getting shot, and that was plenty good enough for him.

Since it was the only real street in town, the signs painted on the few storefronts didn't have need of much creativity. The Saddlewood General Store sat across from the Saddlewood Hotel and next to the Saddlewood Livery. Sure enough, the Saddlewood Saloon and Saddlewood Restaurant weren't too far away.

As much as he knew Eclipse would appreciate some fresh hay under his hooves and fresh greens in his belly, Clint tied the stallion to a post he could reach from any of the businesses rather than purchase a stall in the livery. Patting the Darley Arabian's nose as he walked away, Clint headed for the first place he figured he could find Ben Jarrett, or at least one of his men.

The Saddlewood Saloon was as fancy as its name. Not much bigger than any of the other storefronts, the saloon had a broken front door and a dirty rectangular window built into the wall facing the street. Clint tried to get a look through the window, but couldn't see much more than a few shapes inside thanks to the sun reflecting off the smeared glass.

Pushing open the door, Clint waited a moment before stepping inside. The only thing that came out to meet him was the slurred voices of a few drunks, so Clint walked into Saddlewood's only drinking establishment.

What little space there was inside the saloon was taken up by a bar made up of a series of planks laid out on top of some old crates and wobbly tables. Behind the bar, there was a crooked bookcase holding several bottles of liquor. None of those bottles was marked by a label, and every one of them looked as if it'd been used several times before.

“Looks like a big day for visitors,” a man in his late forties said from behind the bar. “You with the others?”

Clint glanced to where the barkeep waved to and spotted Ben Jarrett standing with one other man at a post with a shelf nailed to it. Both men leaned against the post and watched Clint as if they were thinking of new ways to gut him.

“Yeah,” Clint replied with a smile. “We're old friends.”

Not knowing any better, the bartender slapped the top of the rickety bar and asked, “What can I get you to drink, sir?”

“I'll take a beer.”

“Comin' right up.”

True to his word, the barkeep ran to fill a mug with beer as Clint stood his ground and waited.

There were a few others in the saloon, but none of them seemed too interested in Clint, Ben or the other stranger once Clint's entrance was done. They got back to their own discussions and turned their backs to the unfamiliar faces.

“Here ya go,” the bartender said as he set the full mug down.

Clint took the beer, paid the barkeep and started walking toward Ben's table without once taking his eyes off of the two outlaws. He didn't bother looking for holsters around the other two men's waists and subtly shifted his beer to his left hand so his right could remain empty and within easy reach of his Colt.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Clint said as he approached what passed for a table, but was actually more of a tray nailed to a post. Putting his back to a wall and keeping the front door in sight, he asked, “Where are the others?”

“Why, Adams?” Ben asked. “Were you hoping for a party?”

“Of a sort.”

“Then you're bound to get your wish if you keep within ten paces of Matt Fraley.”

“You're going to an awful lot of trouble for one man,” Clint said. “Besides that, Matt seems more interested in doing a few good deeds and settling down.”

“Maybe, but he stole from me before settling.”

“So steal some more.”

The corner of Ben's eye twitched as he fought to put on a convincing smile. “That ain't the point, Adams, and you know it. I can't let it pass when someone steals from me. Not even if it's one goddamn penny.”

Clint shrugged and sipped his beer. “Then it looks like we've got a problem.”

When the saloon door swung open, the smile on Ben's face became genuine. “Not for much longer, we don't.”

Clint's gun hand flashed down to his holster quicker than anyone else in that saloon could see. When he brought up the modified Colt to aim it at Ben's chest, Clint didn't even spill a drop from the mug he held in his other hand.

“So,” Clint said, “did you mention something about a party?”

Ben blinked and looked down at the Colt as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The man beside him looked just as surprised, but started moving for his own pistol anyway.

“Don't be a damn fool,” Ben hissed as he slapped at his partner's gun arm.

The man took his hand away from his holster and did his best to look tough as he shifted his eyes back to Clint. So far, nobody else in the saloon had seen or heard enough to pull their uninterested glances away from the man still standing in the front doorway.

“Wait for us outside,” Ben said to the man in the doorway. When he saw the confused look on the man's face, Ben added, “Now, I tell ya!”

That brought from the others inside the saloon a few more glances aimed at Ben's table. Watching as the locals looked away again and got right back to their conversations,Ben was even more surprised to find that Clint had already holstered his Colt and was drinking his beer without a care in the world.

“All right,” Ben said. “Fine. I still don't see why you'd go out of your way to help a no-good asshole like Fraley.”

Clint held his beer rather than try to set it on the already crowded little table nailed to the post. “He hasn't done much of anything wrong while I've been around.”

“He's a thief. A killer. From what I've heard, he's just the sort of man you're known for hunting down or even killing.”

“I don't kill without a reason,” Clint said plainly. “And Matt hasn't given me a reason.”

“And what happens when he does?” Ben asked smugly.

Without missing a beat, Clint replied, “Then I'll kill him, just like I'll kill you if you try to push this any further than it needs to go.”

Gritting his teeth, Ben started to pick up a glass of whiskey and then slammed it down hard enough to crack the little table halfway from the nails holding it to the post. “What the hell did Matt do? Did he pay you? I'll pay you double if you just get on that horse of yours and find somewhere else to be that ain't here.”

Seeing the man in the doorway start to walk forward, Ben stabbed a finger toward him and snapped, “Get the fuck out of here!”

Those words echoed through the little saloon and brought every conversation in the place to a halt. Ben pulled in a breath and grinned at the bartender. “Next round's on me,” he said. “Sorry for the ruckus.”

The few others inside the saloon raised their glasses and voiced a quick round of thanks as the bartender hurried to refill their glasses.

“You're making a big mistake siding with a man like Matt Fraley,” Ben said. “Unless everything I've ever heard about you is wrong, you know that just as well as I do, Adams.”

“Matt Fraley served his time in jail,” Clint said. “He's gone out of his way to set some folks back up on their feet and he's not shying away from the sins in his past. Whatever he did before, he's going a long way to try and make up for it.”

“Ain't no man can make up for killing.”

Clint's eyes bored straight through Ben when he replied, “You don't have to tell that to me. All a man can do is try his damndest to set things straight, and that's what Matt's doing.”

Ben squinted at Clint as his face slowly twisted back into a questioning scowl. “You said Matt served his time in jail?”

“As far as I know,” Clint said.

“Then you don't know much, because Matt broke out of jail so he could set out on this little string of errands he gave himself.”

Now it was Clint's turn to study the other man. He even looked to the gunman standing beside Ben and couldn't find a definite hint of a bluff among them.

Ben nodded as he felt his words sink in deeper and deeper. “You didn't know that, did you? What did Matt say? Did he tell you he stood up and pleaded his case in front of a judge who proclaimed him an innocent man?”

Clint thought back to the conversations he'd had with Matt. Sometimes, he thought he recalled Matt mentioning serving time in prison. Other times, Clint wondered if he'd just put those pieces together in his own head. Either way, Clint got the sneaking suspicion that Matt had danced around the subject so perfectly that Clint assumed it was resolved.

“Not such a good fellow now, is he?” Ben asked. “Just wait until he shoots you in the back or steals from you. Then you'll be chomping at the bit to ride along with me and string that son of a bitch up by his guts.”

“Whether he served his time in jail, broke out of it or sprouted wings and flew out doesn't matter to me,” Clint said. “Matt will pay his dues and it won't be by your hand.”

“It'll be by your hand, then?” Ben sneered. “What the hell makes you so goddamned high and mighty? Why shouldn't he be judged by those he wronged?”

Clint only leaned forward a little, but that was enough to make it so that Ben saw him and nobody else in the entire saloon. “Because,” Clint said, “something tells me you've done enough in your life that you earned whatever Matt did to you.”

The corner of Ben's mouth jumped, making it look as if he'd been caught on a fisherman's line. “Yeah?” he grumbled. “Well you had plenty of chances to walk away from this. Next time I see you, I'll be sending your brains out the back of your damn head.”

Clint nodded slowly and took his time finishing his beer.

Ben gathered up his men and headed for the door.

When Matt stepped out of Faith's house, he saw Clint leaning against a tree not too far away. Since most of Saddlewood was situated in open ground, the tree seemed as if it had been dropped there by a twister and just happened to take root.

“Watching over me, huh?” Matt asked.

Clint stayed where he was, so Ben was forced to walk all the way over to him. By the time Ben got to the tree, Clint was grinning from ear to ear.

“What's so funny, Adams?”

“You look like you got a bit more than you bargained for in there.”

“Jesus, were you looking through the window?”

“Nope,” Clint replied. “I just need to look at that grin on your face. Was she worth the ride into town?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Good. Was she worth breaking out of jail?”

Matt thought that over for a second and nodded. “Yeah. She was.”

“So where does this reckoning of yours end?” Clint asked. “After you hand out that money, were you planning on stealing some more from someone else?”

“What would be so wrong with that plan?”

“Should I say like starting a bigger fire than you're putting out or just point out that you're not exactly making up for being a thief by stealing?”

Matt chuckled and nodded. “You got me there, Adams. I was just interested in hearing how you'd answer that.”

“You've got my answer,” Clint said without so much as cracking a smile. “I'd like to hear yours because I'm not about to stand by and watch you start another war with some other outlaw.”

“I don't know if you've ever been in the Army, but this is far from a war.”

“Not according to Ben Jarrett. He intends on taking you out no matter how bloody it gets or how many others have to get hurt along the way.”

“He's here?” Matt asked.

“He sure is.”

“And he told you all of that?”