Town of Two Women (9781101612125) (12 page)

FORTY-ONE

Clint wasn't sure just how to prod this along. Apparently marching right up to Tolbert wasn't going to work. The man wasn't going to make a move until he was ready.

He walked back to Doc Mathis's place, in time to see the doc climbing aboard his buggy.

“What's going on?” he asked.

“I've got a woman going into labor,” Mathis said. “I've got to go to her.”

“What about Mary?”

“I figured she'd be all right here alone.”

“I'd rather you take her with you, Doc,” Clint said. “Press her into service as a nurse. Maybe by the time you both get back, this'll all be over.”

“Maybe you've got a point.” He got down from the buggy. “I'll go up and get her. Did you see Tolbert?”

“I did,” Clint said. “He's not ready to make a move yet.”

“How will you get him to be ready?”

“Just make myself available, I guess.”

“Well, be careful. Sure you don't want some help?”

“I'd love some help,” Clint said. “Can you tell me where to get it?”

“I've got a gun—”

“No, Doc,” Clint said. “I need you and Mary to be out of town.”

“Okay.”

Doc went up the stairs, came down a few moments later with Mary. Clint helped her into the buggy.

“Clint, are you sure I can't sta—”

“This is the best way, Mary,” Clint said. “Doc, don't go down the main street. That might be too much temptation for Tolbert and his men.”

“His men?” Doc asked.

“Yeah, it looks like he brought in two men to back him up.”

“Oh, God, two men?” Mary asked. “Three against one?”

“Those odds are not as bad as they might have been,” Clint said.

“Clint,” she said, “I—”

“Get going, Doc,” Clint said. “Keep her away from town until dark.”

“It'll probably take me that long to deliver the child,” Doc said. “We'll see you later, Clint—I hope.”

“I hope so, too.”

Impulsively, Mary leaned over and kissed Clint on the corner of the mouth.

*   *   *

After Doc and Mary drove away, Clint turned and went back to the main street. He considered going over to the Dry Wash. With Tolbert sitting in front of the place, it would make sure he knew where Clint was when the time came. But before Clint could head that way, he saw someone walking down the street who was familiar to him. As she walked, men and women stepped aside for her—probably out of deference to her husband.

Clint crossed the street and stepped in front of her. She stopped abruptly.

“Mr. Adams,” she said. “Hello.”

“Mrs. Locksley,” he said. “Where are you heading?”

“Why, to see my husband.”

“At work?” he asked. “Wouldn't that upset him, being interrupted?”

“I'm afraid we had a quarrel this morning,” she said. “I want to mend fences before he comes home tonight.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, let me walk you there.”

“Oh, that won't be—”

“I wouldn't hear of letting you walk there alone,” Clint said. “There are a couple of strange men in town, and you'll have to walk right past them. I'll make sure they don't bother you.”

He extended his arm.

“All right,” she said, linking her arm in his. “Let's go.”

FORTY-TWO

First, they had to walk past Tolbert's two men, seated across the street in front of the saloon. This time both men stared openly at Angela Locksley.

Next they passed Tolbert. The new sheriff didn't move when he saw them.

“Looks like somebody got a new job,” Clint said to her.

“What? Oh,” she said, peering across at Tolbert. “Is that a badge?”

“Seems your husband appointed him this morning.”

“What happened to Crabtree?”

“Left town,” Clint said. “I saw him leave.”

Finally, on their own side of the street, they reached City Hall. Clint saw Locksley standing in the window above before he could duck out of sight.

“You might as well join your husband, Angela,” Clint said. “I think he has a good vantage point up there.”

“Good luck, Mr. Adams,” she said. “You should never have come here to Heathstead.”

“Believe me, Mrs. Locksley,” he said. “If I had known, I wouldn't have.”

He opened the door for her, closed it after she had gone in. He saw a small saloon just across the street, decided to stop inside there instead of the Dry Wash for a drink.

*   *   *

Tolbert saw Clint walk across the street to the Black Jack Saloon, decided it was time. He waved at Cutter and Aaron, giving them the signal. They already had instructions to make sure Mrs. Locksley came to no harm, if she happened to be around at the time. She was, after all, his route to the money.

*   *   *

“That's it,” Cutter said. “Time to go.”

“You sure?”

“That's the signal,” Cutter said, “and everybody seems to be in place.”

“Well . . . okay.”

They stood up, walked down the street, and then across until they were in front of City Hall. Aaron opened the door, and they went inside.

*   *   *

As Clint entered the Black Jack, the three customers there looked up from their drinks, but it was the middle-aged bartender who spoke.

“Ah, no,” he said, “don't be bringin' your troubles in here, Mr. Adams. Please.”

“Don't worry, friend,” Clint said. “I'm not going to be here for long. Just one beer.”

Reluctantly the bartender drew a beer and set it on the bar.

*   *   *

Cutter and Aaron burst into Locksley's reception area, startling Gina. Both men stared at her.

“What are we supposed to do with her?” Aaron asked.

“Nothin',” Cutter said. “Get out!” he ordered the girl.

Gina didn't hesitate. She ran out. The two men crossed the room and slammed open the door to Locksley's office.

Husband and wife turned from the window and stared at them.

“You,” Cutter said, pointing at Locksley. “Come with us.”

“W-What?”

“You heard him,” Aaron said. “Outside.”

“B-But why?”

“Never mind,” Cutter said. “Move it!”

Locksley put his hand on Angela's arm and said, “My dear—”

“Not her,” Cutter said, “just you.”

Angela pulled her arm out of her husband's grasp. This was obviously Tolbert's move.

“See you later, darling,” she said to her husband.

“But—”

“Get him,” Cutter told Billy Aaron.

Aaron crossed the room, grabbed Locksley, and shoved him toward the door. Then he turned and took a moment to look Angela up and down.

“Come on!” Cutter said.

“You're pretty,” Aaron said.

“You're disgusting.”

Aaron went back across the room, where he and Cutter hustled Locksley out the door and down the stairs.

“Where are we going?” he demanded as they reached the front door.

“Sheriff Tolbert thought you'd like to watch,” Cutter said.

“I was going to watch,” Locksley said. “From my window.”

“This way,” Cutter said, “you'll get a closer look.”

FORTY-THREE

Tolbert saw Cutter and Aaron come out of City Hall with Locksley. He got up from his chair and walked over to them.

“What's going on, Tolbert?” Locksley demanded.

“I'm just doing what you paid me to do, boss,” Tolbert said. “I'm taking care of Adams. And after him, the girl.”

“Why am I down here?”

“To watch,” Tolbert said. “I wanted you to have the best seat in the house.”

“This is ridiculous,” Locksley said. “Take me back upstairs.”

“Keep him here,” Tolbert told his men. “I'll bring Adams out.”

“You sure you wanna do it this way, Wes?” Cutter asked.

“Just wait here with him,” Tolbert said.

“Okay.”

Tolbert crossed the street to the Black Jack.

*   *   *

Clint watched from the window, drinking his beer. When Tolbert started across, Clint had an idea what the man had in mind. Neither he nor Locksley was supposed to survive this encounter. And above, watching from the big, arched window, was Angela.

“Adams!” Tolbert called, stopping in the street just outside the Black Jack. “It's time, Adams.”

Clint walked to the bar, set down the half-empty beer mug. “See? Not long at all.”

“Thanks, Mr. Adams.”

Clint turned and walk to the door.

*   *   *

From the window of her husband's office, Angela saw Clint Adams come out of the Black Jack Saloon. Tolbert was standing right there in the street. And ingeniously—she had to admit—Tolbert had managed to get her husband out on the street, too.

Her heart was racing. She was going to have to keep Tolbert around a little longer, just to satisfy the feelings she was having at that moment. The excitement was . . . heady.

*   *   *

Outside, Tolbert kept his eyes on the front door of the Black Jack. Finally, it opened and Clint Adams stepped out.

“What's on your mind, Sheriff?”

“I'm calling you out,” Tolbert said, “in my official capacity as sheriff.”

The people on either side of the street started to scramble for cover. Some simply ran into the nearest building; others took cover behind barrels or around corners. But most of them still managed to keep an eye on the action.

Clint stepped down into the street.

“Is this where you want me, Sheriff?” he asked.

Clint started to circle to his left, causing Tolbert to circle to his right.

“Or do you want to switch sides, so you can hit Locksley with a stray bullet?”

“The center of the street is fine with me, Adams.”

Clint risked a brief look at Locksley. The two backup men were standing on either side of him. But their guns were holstered.

“Now hold on!” Locksley yelled. “Just hold on a minute!”

Tolbert didn't look at Locksley, and Clint made sure to keep his eyes on Tolbert. Peripherally, he would still notice some movement from the other two.

“What's on your mind, Mr. Locksley?” Clint asked.

“This—this doesn't have to happen here now,” Locksley said. “Why don't we go up to my office and talk about this?”

“But this is what you wanted, Locksley,” Clint said. “You hired Tolbert to kill me.”

Locksley, aware that there were townspeople watching and listening, said, “Tolbert is the sheriff now, Adams. I have no control over his actions.”

“He works for you, doesn't he?”

“He works for the town.”

“But you appointed him.”

“Somebody had to wear the badge,” Locksley argued. “Crabtree left town. We couldn't leave the town without a lawman.”

“Isn't it usually the mayor's job to appoint a new sheriff?”

“Not in this town.”

“Now why doesn't that surprise me?” Clint asked.

FORTY-FOUR

“Tolbert!” Locksley shouted suddenly, abandoning his ignorance. “I order you to stop this. Do you hear me? I order it.”

“Quiet him down!” Tolbert shouted.

“How dare you—”

Cutter drew his gun and stuck it in Locksley's ribs.

“You heard the man,” he said. “Shut up!”

Aaron drew his gun and jammed it into Locksley on the other side.

“Yeah!”

All of Tolbert's attention was on Clint. Clint still used his peripheral vision to keep track of the others, but he was primarily focused on Tolbert.

“You really want to do this, Tolbert?”

“Really, Adams,” Tolbert said. “You've been in this position many, many times before. Have you ever been able to talk anyone out of it?”

“Not that many,” Clint said. “You're all pretty much the same. You think you'll get a big reputation by killing me, but you never realize that wanting and doing are two different things.”

“What I want,” Tolbert said, “I make happen.”

“I'm curious, Wes,” Clint said. “Are you actually getting paid by both of them? The husband and the wife?”

Tolbert didn't answer.

“And does Locksley know you've been poking his wife, too?”

“What?” Locksley asked. “What's tha—”

Cutter quieted him down by jamming his gun barrel into his side harder.

“All right,” Tolbert said. “That's enough talking. Let's do this, Adams.”

Clint turned all his attention to Tolbert.

“Whenever you're ready, Wes.”

Clint watched Tolbert's eyes. In his experience, a man gave away his move by narrowing his eyes—even if it was just a fraction of an inch.

But Tolbert was good. He didn't telegraph his move that way. In fact, he didn't telegraph it at all. The man was actually as good as he thought he was.

Tolbert drew, and Clint—with nothing to give him an edge—simply had to outdraw him.

*   *   *

Tolbert felt that Adams was talking out of nerves. He knew he'd met his match, and was trying to put off the inevitable. Tolbert's confidence was swelling inside him, more and more each second.

No point in making Adams wait any longer.

He drew.

He thought he drew. Suddenly he couldn't feel the gun in his hand. In fact, he couldn't feel anything except a cold sensation in his belly that quickly turned hot.

He was turning, twisting, and falling and didn't even realize that he did pull the trigger once, firing a wild shot . . .

*   *   *

Cutter and Aaron watched as Clint outdrew Tolbert cleanly, and killed him.

“Jesus!” Aaron said. “That was fast!”

*   *   *

Clint turned quickly to the two men, both of whom were holding their guns. He fired quickly, before either of them could think to pull the trigger. His actions saved Eric Locksley's life.

“Jesus!” Locksley cried out as the two men fell to the ground.

Clint first walked to Tolbert, to be sure he was dead. When he was certain, he walked to the other two. Satisfied that they, too, were dead, he ejected the empty shells from his gun and reloaded.

Locksley was still cringing between the two bodies.

People were starting to come out onto the street. Clint grabbed Locksley's arm.

“Let's go and see your wife.”

He dragged Locksley into the building, and up the stairs. When they entered the office, the first thing Clint saw was the shattered glass in the big window. He hadn't known where Tolbert's wild shot had gone, but now he did.

Angela Locksley was lying on her back across her husband's desk, a bullet hole in her forehead.

“Oh, God!” Locksley said, turning his head.

“Why are you turning your head away, Locksley?” Clint asked. “I heard you and the missus weren't getting along. Guess that's why she was sleeping with Tolbert while you were sleeping with Mary Connelly.”

Locksley gave Clint a murderous look. Clint put his gun barrel to the man's forehead, turning the look into one of fear.

“I can give you a matching bullet hole, so that you and your wife will look alike.”

“N-No.”

“I think a lot of the townspeople heard everything that was said out there,” Clint said. “You're finished in this town. If there was a real sheriff in town, I'd turn you over to him.”

“L-Look, Adams—”

“Now tell me you're going to leave town if I leave you alive.”

“I—I'm gonna leave t-town.”

“Today?”

“Today.”

“I want you gone before Mary Connelly comes back,” Clint said. “She and Doc are delivering a baby, and I'll want to give her the good news that she doesn't have to leave town.”

Locksley nodded.

“Don't worry about your wife,” Clint said, removing the gun but leaving a round circle on the man's forehead. “I'll see she's buried properly.”

“Where will I go?” Locksley said.

“You might try going to see your son,” Clint said, walking to the door. “You can tell him how you got his mother killed.”