To Reap and to Sow Read online

  Clint held his ground and waited for Mark to collect his courage. When Mark finally did make another move, Clint saw it coming as clearly as if he’d watched a bank of storm clouds roll in over the course of a day.

  Mark’s first swing was rushed and was announced by a grunting breath as well as a shift in his entire body. All Clint needed to do was take a step back to allow that punch to miss him by a foot. Mark’s second swing was a bit faster, but Clint was able to see it coming in enough time to spare for him to slap it away. When Mark bared his teeth and let out a frustrated obscenity, it was almost funny.

  Seeing the start of a grin on Clint’s face was enough to push Mark into another kind of anger. He charged toward Clint and weathered a few punches on his way in before wrapping Clint up in a bear hug and shoving him against the wall that had been hit by the man in the vest not too long ago.

  Clint’s shoulders slammed against the door. As soon as his boots touched the floor again, he brought up one leg to slam his knee into Mark. Clint wasn’t sure where the knee had landed, but it hit hard enough to loosen Mark’s grip.

  Clint took hold of Mark’s shirt and held him at arm’s length. Before Mark could respond, Clint punched him in the face with a straight right jab. As Clint’s knuckles cracked against Mark’s chin, Clint knew he hadn’t hit the other man hard enough to do any more than catch his attention.

  “I’ll buy the first drink,” Clint said. “No need to keep tussling if there’s no call for it.”

  “Oh, there’s call for it,” Mark replied before lunging forward and throwing a punch intended to turn Clint’s face into strawberry jam.

  Clint shifted to the side and felt the breeze of Mark’s punch sail past him. Next, Clint heard the crunching impact of Mark’s fist slamming against the wall.

  While Mark gritted his teeth and struggled to keep from yelping in pain, Clint positioned himself so he was standing between the man and the room where Lynn was still waiting.

  Every one of Mark’s haggard breaths needed to be pushed out of him. He was so angry that sweat had pumped out of his forehead and trickled down his face. The moment he got Clint back in his sights, he reached for the gun that hung in a battered holster on his hip.

  Before Mark could close his fingers around his pistol, he was looking down the barrel of Clint’s modified Colt.

  Mark hadn’t seen Clint go for his gun. He hadn’t even heard Clint clear leather.

  “You just lost that free drink I offered,” Clint said. “Take your hand from that pistol before you lose something else.”

  Mark wanted to draw and fire with every fiber of his being. That much was plain to see in his eyes and the anxious twitching in his face. But no matter how worked up he was, Mark wasn’t blind. He could see that he was beaten and wasn’t even close to taking his own gun from its holster. Swallowing his pride along with his anger, Mark opened both hands and held them up to either side.

  “Good,” Clint said without shifting his aim. “Now get out of here.”

  Slowly, Mark backed away. “I’ll be seeing you again,” he grumbled.

  “It’s best if you don’t.”

  With every step he took away from Clint, Mark seemed to grow a bit more confident. “I’ll see you again. Count on it.”

  Clint watched Mark carefully without paying any mind to the smoke he was blowing. Only when Mark turned a corner and disappeared from the hallway did he holster the Colt.

  “Are you all—” was all Clint managed to say before Lynn rushed up to wrap her arms around him and plant a kiss on his mouth that curled his toes.

  THREE

  Clint walked into the Red Eye Saloon later that night. After riding all day long to make it most of the way through Kansas and get into Spelling, Clint had intended on filling his stomach and climbing into bed to call it an early night. The little restaurant connected to the hotel allowed him to carry out the first part of his plan, but Mark Rowlett’s shouting had cut short the second.

  As he walked into the saloon, Clint didn’t even make it to the bar before the short fellow tending it had locked eyes with him.

  “You staying at that hotel across the street?” the bartender asked.

  Clint looked around a bit just to make sure he was the one in the bartender’s sights. Judging by the edge in the shorter man’s voice, he must have had some pressing business to relay. Seeing that he was the intended target, Clint let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah. I’m staying at that hotel.”

  “Someone was in here grousing about you.”

  “I suspected it might be something like that,” Clint mumbled.

  “Pardon?”

  “Never mind. Thanks for letting me know.”

  Clint stepped up to the bar and rolled his head back and forth to loosen up his neck. As much as he enjoyed long rides, they played hell on him when the temperature dropped the way it had over the last few days.

  The bartender leaned both hands against his edge of the bar. Now that he’d stepped up to stand directly in front of Clint, it was easy to see he was even shorter than Clint had first guessed. In fact, the bartender was standing on a crate situated behind the bar.

  “You know how I knew you were the man that was being groused about?” the bartender asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  Clint leaned forward to get a better look behind the bar. It wasn’t just a crate set up back there for the short man, but an entire platform that covered most of the floor behind the bar and led to a ramp that would put him back onto the regular floor when he walked around the bar.

  “Come on,” the bartender asked as if he was about to burst. “You know how I knew?”

  “No,” Clint finally conceded. “How’d you know?”

  Proudly, the bartender ran a finger along the side of his face and then pointed to that same spot on Clint’s face. “Your scar. The man who groused about you mentioned a scar and I picked up on it right away.”

  Clint reflexively touched the scar on his cheek and nodded. Most of the times, he even forgot the scar was there. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Real observant.”

  The bartender straightened his back and nodded. If his arms were a bit longer, he would have been able to pat himself on the back. “Don’t worry, though. I didn’t say anything.”

  “That’s because you don’t know who I am, or if that fellow wasn’t just sounding off. I’m not the only man with a scar, for that matter.”

  With every word Clint said, the pride etched into the little man’s face dimmed. Before too long, the bartender was staring at his own fingers. “I suppose you’re right. What can I get you to drink?”

  Even if the bartender was twice as big as him, Clint would have felt bad for raining on the man’s parade like that. “Then again,” Clint added as if he’d given the matter a good amount of thought, “not every person would have spotted me so quickly or from a distance that way.”

  The bartender shrugged.

  “It’s been a long day,” Clint said. “I suppose I was just caught off my guard when you spotted me so quickly.”

  Slowly, the bartender’s sly grin was rekindled. “I can see how that might startle you. How about I set you up with a free beer to make up for it?”

  “That might just do the trick.”

  As the bartender got a mug and filled it for him, Clint looked around at the rest of the saloon. There really wasn’t much to see. Apart from three other customers in the place, there were only a couple tables and a handful of chairs. It looked as if there might be a small stage in the back of the room, but that could have just been another platform for the bartender to use.

  When the bartender turned around again, his smirk was back in full force. “Here you go. On the house. The first one is, anyway.”

  “Much obliged,” Clint said as he lifted the mug and took a sip.

  The brew wasn’t the best he’d had, but it sure beat the swill he’d been served in Wichita. As he drank, Clint could feel the bartender eyeing him intently. Fortunately, the little man didn
’t wait long before talking again.

  “You made an enemy in Mark Rowlett, you know,” the bartender said.

  “Yeah. I kind of figured.”

  “He’s not the sort you’d want to trifle with.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have been beating a woman.”

  The bartender nodded as his eyes drifted toward the holster at Clint’s side. “Well, I guess you can handle someone like Mark better than most. Still, he gets awfully particular where that woman of his is concerned. I take it you know her as well?”

  “I got her name, but that was about it.”

  “She’s not…uh…hurt is she?”

  Clint set his mug down and looked up to find the bartender watching him carefully. “Not too bad, no,” Clint replied. “She wanted to clean herself up a bit. Are you a friend of hers, or just plain nosy?”

  “I like to know what’s going on so’s I can spread the word. All a part of the job, you know. Mark’s fairly well known around here. Folks’ll want to know who put him in his place.”

  Clint held the bartender’s gaze until the little man looked away. Considering the long day Clint had had, it didn’t take long for him to pull that off. “Maybe folks should tend to their own affairs,” Clint said with just enough of an edge in his voice to get his point across.

  The bartender held up his hands and averted his eyes. “No offense meant. Just making conversation.”

  Clint had to laugh at the bartender’s easy manner. “You serve food here?” he asked.

  “Sure do. I’m fixin’ steak omelets tomorrow myself.”

  “Be sure to have one ready for me and I’ll tell you all about my run-in with Mr. Rowlett. Right now, I’d just like to finish this beer and get to sleep.”

  Leaning over the bar so he could offer his hand, the barkeep said, “Sounds like a deal, Mr….”

  As Clint shook the bartender’s hand, he wondered if it wouldn’t be wiser to give a false name. Despite the attractiveness of that idea, he replied, “Adams.”

  “Tomorrow morning it is, Mr. Adams. I’ll be looking forward to the story.”

  Clint was glad to have appeased the bartender for the time being just so he could drink the rest of his beer in peace. Hopefully, the small town wouldn’t be flooded with stories about the Gunsmith by morning thanks to Clint dropping his own name.

  Then again, judging by the tenacity of the bartender, the little man probably knew who he was the moment Clint stepped through the door.

  FOUR

  Clint’s eyes snapped open for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes. As always, his hand reached for the modified Colt at his side but stopped just short of clearing leather. Unlike the other times that had happened, hadn’t been awakened by a sound from outside or someone walking heavily down the hall.

  He’d heard footsteps, sure enough, but not loud. When he looked at the narrow gap beneath his door, Clint saw two shadows where a set of feet were standing. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed without taking his hand away from his Colt, Clint walked across the small room and stood next to the door.

  “What is it?” Clint asked.

  The voice that came from the other side of the door was quiet but not as gruff as Clint was expecting.

  “It’s Lynn McKay,” the voice said. “I’m the one from the room down the hall from yours.”

  When Clint pulled open the door, he caused Lynn to jump back half a step.

  “Yeah,” Clint said in a tired voice. “I remember you.”

  Lynn had her hands clasped in front of her as though she didn’t know quite what else to do with them. When she looked at Clint, she kept her head at a demure angle, out of shyness, it seemed, more than anything else. No matter how much she tried to shrink herself down, however, there was no hiding the elegance of her tall, wispy frame.

  “I never got a chance to say how much I appreciated what you did,” she told him. After waiting a few silent moments, Lynn added, “Thank you.”

  “No need for that,” Clint replied. “It was my pleasure.”

  “You didn’t have to step in like that.”

  “Your friend was making a lot of noise and I was trying to sleep.” Now that he was off his bed and looking at Lynn, it was hard for Clint to keep up his gruff demeanor. “I also don’t like to hear a man pushing around a woman,” he said in a much softer tone. “I hope I wasn’t too late in getting there.”

  Lynn gave a quick wave with one hand. “I’ve gone through worse with Mark, but it won’t be happening again. I’m through with him.”

  “That’s good to hear. Was it a mutual decision?”

  There was a bit of a flicker in Lynn’s eyes, which put a small dent in her confidence, but she eventually nodded. “He’s gone for now, but he might be back. It’s happened plenty of times before.”

  “It may get worse now,” Clint replied. “I’d hate to see anyone get blindsided by someone like that friend of yours.”

  Lynn put on a fresh smile as she took a step into Clint’s room. “You’re worried about me? That’s sweet. But I can handle Mark. Now that he’s shown his true colors, I won’t make the mistake of giving him one more kind word. And don’t worry about the rest of it either,” she added as she propped one leg up on the small dresser next to Clint’s door. “I can take care of myself just fine.”

  As she said that, Lynn reached down to hook her fingers along the bottom of her skirt and peel the material up over her leg. The smooth curve of her calf seemed to go on for days, and when it led up to her thigh, the view only got better. She wore a lacy garter midway between her knee and hip. Under that garter, held in place by a red ribbon, was a pearl-handled derringer.

  Clint noticed the derringer, but preferred to keep his eyes on Lynn’s perfectly contoured leg. She let her fingers drift along the exposed skin for a few seconds more than she needed to, just so Clint would know that she didn’t mind him looking. When he looked back up to her, the smile on Lynn’s face had taken on a much warmer tone.

  “Do you know how to use that?” Clint asked.

  Sliding her hand up farther along her leg to caress the little gun, Lynn pushed her skirt up a bit more and said, “Well, it’s sure not just for show.”

  “You might not want to go around showing that to just anyone, though. They might get the wrong idea.”

  Lynn set her leg down and let her skirts fall to cover it. From there, she marched straight up to Clint and placed her hands on either side of his head. “Something tells me you’ve got the right idea already, but here’s a little something to let you know for sure.”

  The first time Lynn had kissed him was a quick surprise. This time, Clint had been waiting to feel her lips on his until it seemed almost unbearable. Once he could taste her, he reflexively wrapped his arms around her so he could pull Lynn into his room and kick the door shut.

  FIVE

  As soon as Lynn was lifted off her feet, she wrapped her long legs around Clint and locked them tight. He could feel the muscles in her thighs gripping his torso almost hard enough to squeeze the breath out of him. Rather than carry her straight to the bed, he turned and pressed her back against a wall so he could continue the kiss she’d started.

  Lynn’s fingernails raked along Clint’s back and shoulders. When he reached down to cup her tight, rounded backside in both hands, Clint felt a little moan rumble up from her throat to tickle his lips.

  They both leaned back at the same time to catch their breath. Lynn’s eyes were wide open and her breasts heaved against Clint’s body. Her legs were still locked around him, so she didn’t slip one bit as she wriggled against him and started pulling at the buttons of his shirt.

  “You don’t have to do this to thank me,” Clint whispered as he struggled to keep his hands from moving along her body.

  Lynn kept her eyes locked upon Clint as she untangled her legs from around him so she could support herself with one and let the other slide up and down along Clint’s hip. “The only reason I’m doing this is because
I want to. I’ve wanted to since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  When he saw Lynn lean in for another kiss, Clint took hold of her and planted his lips upon her mouth. Her lips opened to let her tongue flick into his as she pressed herself against him. Clint slid one hand along the delicate slope of her back while using the other to massage the perfect curve of her backside.

  He stepped back and Lynn followed him. They kissed each other hungrily as they started ripping the clothes off of each other’s body. Lynn had Clint all but undressed in a matter of seconds. He, on the other hand, had a bit more clothing to get through before he could see her naked figure.

  Lynn giggled as she eased herself onto the bed so both legs dangled over the side. She stretched her arms up over her head and arched her back like a contented cat as Clint unbuttoned, unhooked and untied everything necessary to peel the dress and undergarments off of her.

  It was an effort, but it was also worth every second. Clint felt like he was unwrapping one hell of a Christmas present as he peeled away layer after layer. When he was done, the only thing Lynn had on was the garter and the pearl-handled derringer. Clint lowered himself to his knees and pulled Lynn closer to the edge of the bed so he could run his lips against the silky smooth skin of her inner thigh.

  Lynn draped her legs over Clint’s shoulders and reached down to run her fingers through his hair. As she felt his tongue glide closer to the sensitive skin between her legs, she let out a slow, contented purr.

  Clint moved both hands along Lynn’s legs, savoring the feel of her smooth skin over the tight muscles beneath it. He let out a slow breath as his lips brushed against the downy hair between her thighs. When he could feel Lynn using her legs to pull him in closer, he ran his tongue straight up along the lips of her pussy.

  Letting out a loud groan, Lynn arched her back again and grabbed onto the bed with one hand. She kept the other hand on the back of Clint’s head to keep him from stopping what he was doing.