Fort Revenge Read online

“I’ll do that.”

  Clint watched Harvey walk away, carrying his beer to an empty table, exchanging nods with the sheriff as they passed. Clint called for a beer from the bartender for the lawman.

  “Much obliged,” Bender said when Clint handed him the beer.

  “You watched me this afternoon for a long time, Sheriff,” Clint said.

  “You noticed, huh?”

  “You didn’t make much of a secret of it.”

  Actually, Bender thought he had, but he just shrugged. “Well, I heard you rode in and I just wanted to see what you had on your mind?”

  “What I had on my mind was a cold beer, and a night in a real bed,” Clint said. “When I walked in, though, I could see the bottom deal from across the room.”

  “But you didn’t say anything right away.”

  “I wasn’t sure it was my business.”

  “What made you decide it was?”

  “Well, those two men were going to kill Jack Harvey when he caught them cheating. I couldn’t stand by and watch him be cheated and killed.”

  “A lot of men would’ve.”

  “Well, not me.”

  “Lucky for Jack Harvey,” the sheriff said. “Do you know him? I mean, before all this?”

  “You mean before I saved his life? No, we’d never met.”

  “You looked pretty friendly when I walked in.”

  “Just letting him buy me a few beers for saving his life.”

  “He said he was passing through when he got here,” Bender said.

  “I am, too,” Clint said. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

  “That’s good,” the lawman said. “Maybe you can get away before somebody makes you kill them.”

  “Tell me you’re not letting those two out tomorrow?” Clint said.

  “Right after you leave town,” Bender said.

  “But they were cheating at poker.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not like they stole a horse or killed somebody.”

  “So you’re just going to let them go.”

  “And run them out of town.”

  “They might go after Harvey.”

  “They’d have to know which way he went, and I ain’t gonna tell them.”

  “Somebody else might.”

  Bender shrugged. “Once they all leave town, they’re not my responsibility.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t,” Bender said. “My job is to protect the people of this town. Crawford and Quentin, Harvey, you, none of you live here.”

  “So your townspeople are safer if we’re all out of town.”

  Bender nodded and said, “Tomorrow.”

  FOUR

  “I wanna kill him.”

  “Which one?”

  Crawford looked across the cell at his partner in the cell next to him.

  “That bastard who grabbed my arm,” Crawford said. “Who else do you think?”

  “Well, I was thinking about Jack Harvey.”

  Crawford snorted.

  “We were just tryin’ to fleece that fella,” he said. “It’s that other one who got us thrown in here, and made us lose our money. I wanna kill him.”

  Quentin leaned forward on his cot and said, “You realize that fella is the Gunsmith, right? You wanna go after the Gunsmith?”

  “Not by myself,” Crawford said.

  “Well,” Quentin said, “not with me.”

  “Why not? You’re good with a gun.”

  “I ain’t that good,” Quentin said. “Not Gunsmith good.”

  “Okay,” Crawford said, “so we get some other help.”

  “Like who?”

  “You know fellas who make their living with their gun,” Crawford said. “All we need is enough of them.”

  “And why would anybody else willingly go up against Adams?” Quentin said. “Just to back us?”

  “To make a name for themselves,” Crawford said. “Or maybe we pay them.”

  “With what?” Quentin asked. “We left all our money on that poker table.”

  “We get it back.”

  “From who?”

  “From Harvey,” Crawford said. “And we take whatever Adams has on him when we kill him.”

  “When we kill him? How about if we kill him?”

  “That, too,” Crawford said.

  “And, of course, you think we’re gonna get out of here, right?”

  “We’ll get out of here,” Crawford said. “This lawman is gonna kick us loose in the mornin’ and tell us to leave town.”

  “And?”

  “And we’ll do it,” Crawford said. “We’re done here, anyway.”

  FIVE

  Clint left the saloon without speaking to Jack Harvey again. He didn’t mind saving the man’s life, but that didn’t mean he wanted his company on the trail. He didn’t know anything about him, and preferred to travel alone unless he was with a friend.

  He put Eclipse up in the livery and got himself a hotel room. Once in the room he stayed there, read some of a Dumas novel he’d picked up recently, and then went to sleep.

  In the morning he went out to get some breakfast before checking out of the hotel. He had his choice of the hotel dining room, or going out to find a restaurant. He decided to go the easy way and got a table in the dining room.

  While he was eating a fair-to-middling steak and eggs, Jack Harvey entered the dining room.

  “Mind if I join you?” Harvey asked.

  “I’m almost finished.”

  “That’s okay,” Harvey said. “I’ll just have some coffee.”

  He started to sit, but stopped when Clint said, “No.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I saved your life,” Clint said. “That doesn’t mean we’re friends, and it doesn’t mean we’re going to travel together. And it certainly doesn’t mean we’re going to have breakfast together.”

  Clint ate his last bite, washed it down with the last of his coffee, and stood up. He dropped some money on the table. “I’m done, and I’m leaving.”

  “Suit yourself,” Harvey said. “But this ain’t the end, you know.”

  “So you say.”

  “I’ll pay you back yet, for saving my life,” Jack Harvey said. “I owe you, and I don’t like owin’ anybody.”

  Clint left the dining room, went up to his room to retrieve his saddlebags and rifle, and then returned to the desk to check out. He looked around the lobby. There was no sign of Jack Harvey.

  Clint left the hotel and headed for the livery stable. On the way, he encountered the sheriff returning from his morning meal, if the fact that he was picking his teeth was any indication.

  “How are your prisoners?” he asked.

  “Doin’ well,” Bender said. “Anxious to be let out.”

  “Well, I’m on my way to saddle up.”

  “And Harvey?”

  “Why ask me?”

  “Well, I thought . . . you two might be traveling together.”

  “We won’t be.”

  “I see.”

  “So you better check on him, make sure he is leaving, as well.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  “Before you let those two out.”

  “Of course.”

  “Good,” Clint said. “I’ll be leaving, then.”

  “Go carefully,” the sheriff said.

  “I usually do,” Clint said.

  He turned and walked toward the livery. The sheriff went in search of Jack Harvey.

  Clint saddled Eclipse, settled his account with the liveryman, and then walked outside. He saddled up, looked behind him. He had the feeling he was being watched, but he didn’t see anyone.

  But that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

  Jack Harvey raised his rifle stock to his shoulder, sighted down along the barrel, and waited for Clint Adams to mount. He could have shot him from the saddle very easily.

  But that wasn’t Harvey’s intention.

  He lowered the rifle, but continued to watch as
Clint Adams rode away. Maybe the Gunsmith thought he had seen the last of Jack Harvey, but that wasn’t the case at all.

  When Clint Adams was out of sight, Harvey came out from hiding and walked to the livery. He had his own horse to saddle, and while he was heading in generally the same direction as Clint Adams, he was not going to take the same route.

  His route may have been different, but the destination would be the same.

  SIX

  FORT SMITH, ARKANSAS

  When Clint rode into Fort Smith, he saw the familiar gallows outside of the building where Judge Isaac Parker had his office and held court. It also housed the barracks and the basement jail, which had come to be called “Hell on the Border.”

  It was not unusual for prisoners to be taken directly from the judge’s court to the gallows. Judge Parker’s word was law in Fort Smith, and all the Territories.

  Clint had been to Fort Smith many times, and it hadn’t changed much. He rode directly to the livery, where he left Eclipse in the capable hands of a man named Pete Tompkins.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Adams.”

  “Thanks. Seen Heck Thomas around today?”

  “Yesterday,” Tompkins said. “Took his horse out. He ain’t been back yet.”

  “Did he say when he would be back?”

  “Not to me.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “This big boy stayin’ with me long?” Tompkins asked.

  “A few days,” Clint said. “A lot will depend on when Heck gets back.”

  “Guess you better check with the judge, then.”

  “I guess I better.”

  He left the livery, carried his saddlebags and rifle to the Sheridan Hotel.

  Heck Thomas had broken camp that morning, saddled his horse, and started riding back to Fort Smith. He hadn’t meant to be out all night, and he was hungry. All he’d had since he left town the day before was some beef jerky and the water in his canteen.

  For weeks, he’d been looking for the Colter brothers. Somebody had given him a tip they’d been seen in this area east of Fort Smith, but there was no sign of them. He’d kept looking until it got dark and he had to camp for the night. Hadn’t even brought a coffeepot with him.

  He rode back toward Fort Smith, wondering if Clint Adams had arrived yet. It was about time for the man to get there. He just hoped the Gunsmith stayed away from Judge Parker until Heck got back. Those two mixed like oil and water.

  Clint got himself something to eat first, then walked over to the judge’s barracks building. He was admitted by a guard and met by the judge’s bailiff, a little man named Henry Butler, in his small office.

  “Mr. Adams,” Butler said. “You haven’t been in Fort Smith in some time. To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  “I’m looking for Heck Thomas, Butler.”

  “You’re not here to see the judge?”

  “I hope not,” Clint said. “I’d just as soon skip that pleasure, and I’m sure he’d like to do the same. No, I’m just here to see Heck.”

  “Well, I haven’t seen Deputy Thomas since yesterday,” Butler said.

  “Do you know what his latest assignment is?” Clint asked.

  “I’m sure you’d have to ask the judge that.”

  Clint thought it over, then decided not to go that way. He’d give Heck time to get back on his own.

  “Can I do anything else?” Butler asked. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to see the judge?”

  “I’m positive, Butler,” Clint said. “In fact, you don’t even have to tell the judge I was here.”

  “As you wish.”

  Butler waited while Clint left the building. When he was able to look out his window and see Clint Adams in the street, he turned and walked to the judge’s office.

  Judge Isaac Parker looked up from his desk when the knock came at his door.

  “Come!”

  Henry Butler entered.

  “What is it, Henry?” Parker asked, stroking the snowwhite chin whiskers he’d worn for years. He removed his spectacles and set them down on the desk.

  “I thought you’d like to know, Judge, that Clint Adams was just here.”

  “Adams? What did he want?”

  “He was looking for Deputy Thomas.”

  “Did he ask to see me?”

  “No, sir. In fact, he asked me to not even mention he was here.”

  “Interesting,” Parker said, sitting back in his chair. “You know, he’s the most irritating man I’ve ever met, and yet I’m sure he’d be the best deputy marshal I ever had, if I could only get him to wear a badge.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Parker stared at Butler.

  “Oh, I know you don’t agree, Henry.”

  “No, sir, I do not.”

  “Well, your objections to giving Mr. Adams a badge are well documented. If he comes back and he wants to see me,” Parker said, “bring him in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is that all?”

  “That’s all, Judge.”

  “Very well,” the judge said. He picked up his glasses and put them back on. “Thank you, Henry.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, and let me know as soon as Deputy Thomas does return.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Butler left the office. Judge Parker stood up and walked to his window. From there he could see the gallows very clearly. He had watched from there as every man he’d sent to the gallows swung. He watched until they were pronounced dead, taken down, and hauled off to the undertaker.

  He turned away from the window and walked back to his desk.

  SEVEN

  Heck Thomas rode up to the livery and dismounted. As Tompkins came out to take his horse, he said to the lawman, “Friend of yours was lookin’ for ya a little while ago.”

  “Friend? How do you know that?”

  “Well, he said he was a friend. Clint Adams?”

  “Yep, he’s a friend. When was that?”

  “Couple of hours ago.”

  Heck hoped Clint hadn’t gone looking for him at the barracks building.

  “Thanks, Pete. I’ll go find ’im. If he comes back here lookin’ for me, tell him to look for me in front of a big steak.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Heck walked away from the livery. He wanted to find Clint, but that steak was calling out to him. He decided to go ahead and get something to eat. If he stayed in one place long enough, Clint might find him and save him the trouble.

  He had favorite places to eat in town, but he was too hungry to wait, so he stopped at the first place he came to.

  As it got on toward afternoon, Clint started looking in saloons for Heck. If the lawman had been out on the trail long enough, he’d be looking for two things: a drink and a meal. Finally, Clint decided to go and look someplace his friend would be able to get both.

  He decided to look closer to the livery and found Heck in the third restaurant he tried. Heck had taken a table near the back of the place, from where he could see the entrance and the windows, so he spotted Clint as soon as he walked in. He waved.

  “Thought I’d find you sitting in front of a steak,” Clint said.

  Heck stood up and the two friends shook hands warmly.

  Clint sat opposite Heck and asked, “Any good?”

  “There’s better in town, but I was too hungry to wait,” Heck said honestly.

  Clint waved to the waiter and pointed at Heck’s plate, indicating he wanted the same. He also pointed to the big glass mug of beer Heck had.

  “Heard you got in this mornin’?” Heck asked. “You ain’t talked to the judge, have ya?”

  “No,” Clint said, “but I did talk to Butler.”

  “Ah, that means the judge knows you’re here.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “I don’t like that old fox knowin’ my business,” Heck said.

  “I thought your business was his business,” Clint said. “After all, you’re wearin’ one of his badges.”

  “
I was between jobs,” Heck said. “Anyway, thanks for comin’ .”

  “I was also between . . . jobs.”

  Heck laughed. “More likely you was between women,” he said, almost choking as he laughed.

  The waiter appeared with Clint’s steak and beer, set them down, and backed away.

  “You want to tell me what’s on your mind,” Clint asked, “or should we eat first?”

  “Let’s eat and catch up,” Heck said. “After that, we can go to the saloon and talk about it.”

  “Suits me,” Clint said, and they both tucked into their meals.

  Jack Harvey rode into town while Clint and Heck Thomas were eating their steaks.

  When Jack gave his horse up at the livery, he spotted Clint Adams’s big black in a stall. He’d taken his time riding to Fort Smith, wanting Clint to get there ahead of him.

  Fort Smith wasn’t a very big town, but it was a busy one, filled with people. Chances were good Harvey would be able to avoid Clint Adams for as long as he wanted to.

  Before he checked into his hotel, he checked the register to make sure he wasn’t in the same hotel as Clint Adams. He wasn’t, so he collected his key and went up to his room. There were enough saloons and restaurants in town, so he’d be able to take care of those needs without running into Clint.

  He looked out his window, not expecting to see Clint walking down the street, just taking a brief glance. He decided before seeing to any of his other needs to have a bath, which he could do right in the hotel.

  EIGHT

  Heck walked Clint across the street to a small saloon that had no gambling, no girls, just a bar and some tables. They collected a beer each from a bored bartender and carried them to a back table. A few men, spotting Heck’s badge, finished their drinks and left.

  “Lucky I ain’t sensitive,” Heck said, “or that’d hurt my feelin’s.”

  “I see you’re makin’ friends, as usual.”

  “Friends is overrated,” Heck said. “Besides, I got one: you.”

  “So what’s goin’ on, Heck?”

  “I need somebody to watch my back, and there’s nobody’round here I can trust.”