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  “He doesn’t,” Clint said. “And it would be most uncivilized for me to refuse such a kind offer. Don’t you agree?” he asked the little girl.

  The girl’s cheeks flushed, but she nodded quickly before turning away from him and burying her face into the blonde woman’s skirts.

  “Those men ain’t civil,” the boy said. “Do you know what he called me?”

  “That’s enough, Sam,” the blonde woman warned.

  “He called me a little monkey!”

  Clint turned around, hoping to find the three men still screwing up their courage to take another run at him. Even though the dark-skinned boy seemed more upset to be called a noisy animal, Clint knew the insult ran a lot deeper than that. The men were nowhere to be found, however, so the additional lesson in manners would just have to wait.

  “That’s very rude,” Clint said.

  Nodding vehemently, the boy said, “It sure is. Monkeys are silly and stupid. I’d rather be a wolf! Or an eagle!”

  “How about a mouse?” the girl asked. “At least they’re quiet.”

  “We’d best be on our way,” the woman said as she took hold of each child by the hand. “Any longer and you’ll have another fight on your hands.”

  “Maybe I should accompany you,” Clint offered. Even though the other three men were out of sight for the moment, he knew better than to assume they were gone for good. Still, he didn’t want to worry anyone about it.

  Judging by the look on her face, the blonde woman was worried enough already. “You really think that’s necessary?”

  “Probably. At least let me see you home.”

  The girl tugged on the blonde’s skirts and when the woman bent down to her, she whispered into her ear. When she was done, the girl watched Clint carefully. The Asian slope of her eyes made it look as if she was always smiling. When the girl truly did smile, her eyes made the expression that much more charming.

  The blonde huffed about it for a little while, but eventually gave in. “All right,” she said. “Dinner won’t be ready for a little while, but I suppose you could always come back if you don’t feel like waiting around that long.”

  “I don’t mind,” Clint said.

  “Good,” the little boy chirped. “I want to see your gun. Is that a Colt?”

  “Sam!” the blonde scolded. “Don’t be rude.”

  “Rude? You didn’t even ask the man his name!”

  The blonde didn’t have a response to that. Realizing that he’d caught her with a valid point, the boy grinned proudly.

  “It’s Clint Adams,” he said, before Sam got a chance to rub it in.

  “Madeline Gerard,” the blonde replied.

  “And I’m Chen,” the little girl added.

  “There,” Sam said. “Now that’s good and civilized.”

  THREE

  As they walked, Clint intended to watch for any indication that those men would try to get one last jab in just to prove themselves. Even worse, there was the possibility that they would round up a few more of their ilk to overpower Clint at the first opportunity. Fortunately on both counts, it was a short and uneventful walk to Madeline Gerard’s home. She lived in a little house that was situated among a cluster of similar houses on the outskirts of town. The moment they got within a stone’s throw of the house, both children broke free and raced to the front door.

  “So you’re not married?” Clint asked.

  Madeline shook her head.

  “Then it’s just you and the children living here?”

  “That stands to reason,” she replied.

  “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just that—”

  “You’re not prying.” Madeline stopped and crossed her arms as she watched the children. Sam and Chen had gotten to the front door, tapped it, and immediately scampered toward a sapling that had been planted between that house and its neighbor, in what must have been some sort of game the two were familiar with. “Most folks around here are very friendly,” she continued. “It’s just that some of them aren’t as understanding about my children’s situation.”

  “So those are your children?” Clint asked.

  “In everything but blood. I took the first one in when a bunch of Sioux were passing through and most of the family died of fever. Only a little boy was left and I vowed to care for him.”

  Clint took a look at Sam, who was now protesting loudly at how Chen must have cheated to reach the sapling before him. “That boy sure doesn’t look Sioux.”

  “Oh, he’s not. The Sioux came through here just under five years ago. The rest of the first boy’s family came along to take him back to his tribe. Since then I’ve been taking in all sorts of folks when they’re in need. My neighbors say I’ve got a weakness for strays.”

  “Where do you find them?”

  “It’s not difficult,” she explained. “You always hear about an outbreak of some sickness somewhere or a train accident somewhere else. Wagons roll through and overturn. Someone’s wife or husband goes missing. There’s always some bit of news like that, but most folks don’t concern themselves with who’s left. I just offer a warm bed and some hot meals to folks in need. They move along, but there’s always another chance for me to help.”

  “There’s always plenty of bad news to go around.” Suddenly, Clint winced. “Sorry about that. Slipped out before I could think better of it.”

  “That’s all right. Unfortunately, you’re also correct. I like to think we all do what we can to help put out the fires that spring up. I have a big house and plenty of food, so that’s what I can give.” Turning to Clint to show him a warm smile, she added, “You step in before other fires get started. Thanks again for speaking up for us back when those men were being so rude.”

  “Rude is a kinder term than I would have used, but you’re welcome all the same. If it’s an imposition for me to stay for supper, you can say so and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Weren’t you listening?” Madeline asked. “I have a weakness for strays, and I keep extra food in the house.”

  Clint nodded and walked along with her as she made her way to the porch and sat down upon a swing. “So where did you pick up those two stray pups?”

  “Sam’s aunt was a baker in town. She passed away, leaving him alone until I can get in touch with some of his cousins that are supposed to live in West Texas. Chen was left at a train station outside of Tombstone. Her mother was murdered. It was a very grisly affair and I haven’t had the heart to tell her about it.”

  “No child should know too many grisly details,” Clint said. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

  “Yes, there will,” she said softly.

  Clint stood his ground and watched the two children play for a while. The show they put on wasn’t exactly theater, but it relaxed him in the same way as when he took a moment or two to follow a couple leaves being thrown around by a swirling wind. When his eyes were drawn toward the neighbor’s house, he found a withered old face watching him sternly from a window.

  “Maybe I should come back later,” he said. “Wouldn’t want your neighbors to get the wrong idea.”

  Madeline followed Clint’s line of sight to the window. “Oh, don’t worry about her,” she sighed. “She’s always got the wrong idea.” Plastering a friendly smile on her face and waving, she shouted, “Hello, Mrs. Beansley.”

  The instant she realized she’d been singled out, the old woman pulled her face away from the window and snapped the curtains shut.

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Madeline told him.

  “Actually, I think I may just come back in a while,” Clint said. “I wasn’t expecting to stay here for long, so I’ll need to put my horse up for the night.”

  “I’ve got a little stable out back,” Madeline offered.

  The longer Clint stayed put, the more anxious he became. “I wouldn’t want to impose. Besides, it looks like you’ve got your hands full with those two.”

  “You wouldn’t be imp
osing.”

  “Do you think those three men from the street will stay away for a while?” he asked, letting her know what he was truly concerned about without spelling out even more grisly details.

  Madeline shook her head and immediately shifted back into the defensive posture she’d had before, her arms folded across her chest like a suit of armor. “They keep to themselves unless my children and I walk down a main street.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d like to make certain of that.”

  “And when you’re through hunting for those wretches, should I expect you for supper?”

  “The day I turn down a hot, home-cooked meal is the day when you truly know the entire world has gone off- kilter.”

  FOUR

  After retrieving Eclipse, Clint rode through the entire town, searching for any hint that those three men were lurking somewhere, waiting to answer back for the beating they’d received. As he moseyed down the largest streets, he also made himself available for any ambushes that the men felt like setting up. Clint slouched in his saddle and kept his eyelids drooped as if he’d had one too many whiskeys and had forgotten where he was headed. Every one of his senses was at its peak, however, and he was prepared for anything that might be coming his way.

  To that end, Clint was almost disappointed when he wasn’t allowed to vent all the steam he’d built up inside. The only hint of trouble he spotted was a glimpse of one of the three men as the filthy bugger walked from one saloon and into another. The man averted his eyes and walked away even faster when he caught sight of Clint. After he ducked into a saloon, he didn’t come out again.

  Clint tied Eclipse to a post outside that saloon and walked in. The place was about half full, which made it easy to pick out where the other man had gone. The fellow stood at the far end of the bar, flanked by the same two assholes who’d joined him in harassing Madeline in the street.

  Clint approached the three men and stood near them, leaning with his elbows upon the bar and ordering a beer. Without looking directly at the three men, Clint asked, “You fellas have anything to say to me?”

  Just as he’d done earlier that day, the same spokesman was the only one to make a sound. “You talkin’ to us?”

  “Yeah,” Clint replied as he turned to face the three. Not only had the trio not tried to surround him when he wasn’t looking, but they pulled back a little when Clint faced them directly.

  “What would we have to say to you?” the spokesman asked.

  “I don’t know. You seemed to have plenty to say to Madeline Gerard.”

  The moment Clint mentioned that name, he noticed several people within the saloon perking their ears up.

  “Do you even know that bitch?” the spokesman asked.

  “Easy, Lang,” the barkeep warned. “I don’t want any trouble in here.”

  The spokesman nodded and acknowledged the barkeep with a few pacifying waves. “Do you know what she does, mister?”

  “Does she murder folks?” Clint asked.

  The question obviously caught Lang off his guard. “N- . . .no.”

  “Does she steal? Is she a horse thief?”

  “No.”

  “Does she hurt anyone or break any laws?”

  “Not as such, but—”

  The tone in Clint’s voice cut Lang off just as sharply as a blade. “Then what the hell did she do to deserve getting shoved around in the street by three assholes like you? The way you were grabbing at her, it seemed pretty obvious that you meant to do a hell of a lot more than that.”

  “She gives comfort to Indians, Mexicans, killers, and thieves alike,” Lang snapped.

  “She offers shelter to folks in need!”

  “Were you here last spring when them redskins came back to claim the whelps they left behind?” Lang asked.

  “Those savages tore apart half the town lookin’ for them little brats. When Miss Gerard handed them over, the redskins damn near burned us all out of our homes. Or what about the night when them Texas Rangers rode in looking for some worthless prick wanted for rustling cattle? Were you here when them law dogs faced those rustlers and half a dozen of our friends and neighbors were killed in the cross fire?”

  Clint kept his eyes locked on the three in front of him as he replied, “No. I wasn’t. Do you mean to tell me that Miss Gerard has anything to do with that?”

  “None of them things would’a happened if she hadn’t been around to offer herself to every transient that drifts through here. Sorry,” Lang added with a filthy grin. “I mean she offers her house to them.”

  “What about you?” Clint asked as he shifted his gaze to the barkeep. “Does everyone around here approve of pushing around ladies and children?”

  Reluctantly, the barkeep said, “No, but she does bring a bad kind into this town. We do our best to keep undesirables away from here, but she offers them room and board. Them kids she puts up belong to someone and the folks that come around to claim them ain’t always the most charitable kind.”

  “Is that why no lawmen have come along to speak to Miss Gerard yet?” Although he didn’t get a direct answer to his question, he saw enough guilty sneers upon the faces around him to do the job.

  After a heavy silence, one of the other men with Lang finally spoke up. “We ain’t got anything against kids, but that Miss Gerard ain’t what you think she is. She’s been warned plenty of times to leave town, but she won’t go. Worse than that, she keeps bringing them strays here to attract more trouble that would otherwise pass us by.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied. “It is.”

  “The only thing that bitch cares about is them wayward little pups she collects,” Lang continued. “You want to find out for yourself? Then go ask the sheriff. He’ll tell you.”

  “I don’t need to talk to the sheriff about anything,” Clint said. “If Miss Gerard is breaking the law, then she would’ve already been arrested. That is, unless your town’s law doesn’t have the gumption to pay a visit to a woman. In the meantime, stay away from her. That goes for you, Lang, as well as anyone else.”

  Nobody else spoke up, so Clint took a healthy drink of the beer he’d ordered and left.

  FIVE

  As much as Clint would have liked to discount everything that had been said at the saloon, he still had a little time to kill before supper, and the sheriff’s office was on his way to Madeline’s house. The little office took up less space than the dry goods store beside it and was only occupied by one man when Clint stepped inside.

  “Are you the town law?” Clint asked the young man sitting behind a short desk.

  The man looked up, showing Clint a clean-shaven face and bloodshot eyes. “I’m Sheriff Bailey. What can I do for you?”

  “Did you happen to know a woman was attacked in the street a little while ago?”

  The sheriff stood up and asked, “Who was it? Is she hurt?”

  “It was Madeline Gerard.”

  That was enough to convince the sheriff to take his seat again. “Oh,” he grunted. “Her.”

  “That’s right, her. Does she somehow fall out of your jurisdiction?”

  “From what I hear, she wasn’t hurt. Just called a name or two.”

  “It was going to be more than that if I hadn’t stepped in,” Clint said. “What gets under my skin even more is the fact that nobody around here seems to care what happens to Miss Gerard. Some folks seem to think she deserves a lot worse.”

  “Then she should have brought the situation to my attention,” the sheriff replied as he got himself situated behind his modest stack of papers. “I can’t exactly know about every little thing that goes on during the day.”

  “What’s she done to deserve so much grief?”

  Flinching at the directness of the question that had been posed, the sheriff folded his hands upon his desk and replied, “She tends to attract an unsavory bunch to this town.”

  “You mean children that don’t happen to be from local families?”
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  “The children aren’t the problem,” Sheriff Bailey replied. “It’s the folks that come around to claim them. And it’s not just children she looks after, you know. There have been fugitives from the law as well as a few individuals who were hiding out from a gang known to kidnap anyone with a family rich enough to pay a ransom. That’s a particularly rough bunch run by a man named Kyle Morrow. Ever hear of him?”

  “I recall the name.”

  “Then maybe you recall all the men, women, and children he killed when he robbed that Federal Reserve bank in California? Some of those survivors wound up in Miss Gerard’s care.”

  “What’s so wrong with that?” Clint asked.

  “Nothing, until one of Kyle Morrow’s boys came looking for someone he thought might be planning to tell what they knew to the U.S. Marshals. Shot the hell out of this whole town just to find out where Miss Gerard was. Another one of her neighbors was gunned down before me and my deputies showed up.”

  “Isn’t that part of your job, Sheriff?”

  Bailey nodded solemnly. “Yes, it is. There’s only one problem. Do you see any deputies now?”

  Clint took a quick look, which was mostly out of reflex. The office was quieter than an undertaker’s parlor, even with the conversation that was taking place. “No, I don’t see any deputies.”

  “That’s because they were killed by that gunman who came looking for Miss Gerard,” Bailey pointed out.

  “Is that her fault?”

  “No, sir, it isn’t,” the sheriff said with a heavy sigh. “But the folks she cares for bring in a dangerous element to an otherwise peaceful town. They gun people down. They set fire to places. One man she sheltered was set to hang for burning down part of a mining camp in the Sierras. He escaped from the lawmen, she sheltered him, and when he slipped away from her he went and set another fire. And those kids she sees to might be little angels, but a lot of them were abandoned because they have good-for-nothing parents, and when that kind comes around looking for their offspring, they tend to get rowdy. Rowdy good-for-nothings bring more trouble. You see where I’m headed with this?”