Under a Turquoise Sky Read online

  “I figured if anyone would know somebody, it’d be you.”

  “Uh-huh.” The lawman rubbed his jaw. “You payin’?”

  “Markstein’s paying, but yeah, we’re paying.”

  “You want somebody who can use a gun?”

  “Give me somebody well-rounded,” Clint said. “Somebody I can just tell what I want, and get it.”

  “Well, there’s Bill Cryder, but he usually has to be told specifically what to do, step by step.”

  “Save him for the end. Who else?”

  “There’s James Washburn,” Cafferty said. “He might do, but the funny thing is, he don’t ride very good. Tends to fall off horses a lot.”

  “Anybody else?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Cafferty said. “There’s a new feller in town. Now, I don’t know him that well, but he’s been around for a few months doin’ odd jobs, and I never heard anybody complain about him.”

  “Does he know his way around?”

  “Oh yeah, he’s guided some supply wagons up the mountain.”

  “He sounds like the likely candidate, then,” Clint said. “What’s his name and where would I find him?”

  SEVENTEEN

  The sheriff told Clint he’d find his guide in a saloon called Saloon No. 1. He explained that this was the first saloon to open in Kingman. He also explained that this was not a good part of town to loiter in, but his man seemed to be most comfortable there.

  “He’s a loner,” Cafferty said. “Does most of his work on his own. Doesn’t have any friends that I can see.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be his friend,” Clint said. “I just need a guide.”

  Clint entered Saloon No. 1 and saw what Cafferty had been talking about. It was a ramshackle building that looked as if it was about to fall down, and it didn’t improve when you went inside. The bar looked to be leaning to one side, which probably made it easier to slide beer mugs downhill. The tables and chairs were mismatched, and many of them were either three-or three-and-a-half legged.

  He walked up to the bar and had no trouble getting the bartender’s attention since he was already the center of it.

  “What can I get ya?”

  “Some information.”

  “Fresh out.” The man had bulging biceps, but also a bulging belly.

  “I haven’t asked you anything, yet.”

  “It don’t matter.”

  “Okay,” Clint said, “before we get off on the wrong foot, I’m looking for a man to give him a job.”

  The bartender relaxed and replied, “Shoulda said that from the beginning. Who’s the guy?”

  “Goes by the name Buck Chance.” It sounded like an alias to Clint, but who was he to judge. Maybe the reason the man stayed to himself was because he was running from something. That didn’t matter to Clint, either.

  “Sittin’ in the back, alone,” the bartender said. “Starin’ into his beer.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You want somethin’ now?”

  “Sure,” Clint said. “Give me a beer.”

  The bartender drew him one and slid it downhill to him. When Clint caught it, he realized why Chance might be staring into his. It was to check and see what was floating in it.

  Clint nodded at the bartender, picked up the mug and carried it back to Buck Chance’s table.

  “Mind if I sit?” he asked.

  “Why would you want to?” Chance asked without looking up.

  “I might have a job for you.”

  Now the man looked up. Clint was startled by the blue of his eyes. He’d never seen eyes that blue on a man.

  “In that case you better sit down, Mr. Adams.”

  Clint sat and said, “You know who I am.”

  “You sort of announced your presence in town when you gunned down Mike Dolan.”

  “Friend of yours?”

  “I don’t have any friends in Kingman,” Chance said. “Whoever sent you to me musta told you that.”

  “Sheriff Cafferty,” Clint said. “He sent me.”

  “Fact is,” Chance added, “a few more days or weeks I mighta had to gun Dolan myself.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Chance shrugged.

  “Boredom,” he said, then added, “plus Mike deserved it.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  “And what’ve you heard about me?”

  “That you’re for hire,” Clint said, “that you usually work alone, and that so far, you’re trustworthy.”

  Chance smiled and said, “That’s only because I haven’t cheated anyone…yet.”

  “You planning on it?”

  “Not plannin’,” Chance said, “but you never know.”

  Clint thought he detected an accent in the man’s speech—southern maybe, or more specifically—

  “Louisiana?” Clint asked.

  “What?”

  “I’m thinkin’ maybe New Orleans,” Clint went on. “Or maybe…Baton Rouge?”

  Chance sat back and stared across the table.

  “That’s good,” he said. “It’s Baton Rouge. You know what my real last name is?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to.”

  “Oh, I ain’t wanted or anything,” Chance said. “I just didn’t want to travel through the West tellin’ folks my last name was Bon Chance.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “and my real first name ain’t Buck, either, but I ain’t tellin’ that one.”

  “Well, your secret’s safe with me.”

  “What’s the job?”

  “Guide.”

  “Where?”

  “One of the mines above Beale Springs.”

  “One of the big ones?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which one?”

  That stumped Clint.

  “I don’t know the name of it, but I’ve got an easterner here in town who bought into it and wants to check it out.”

  “That must be the Blue Lady Mine,” Chance said, with a smile. “I heard one of the partners sold out. When do you want to go?”

  “Tomorrow morning. I thought we’d use today to stock up on supplies, get a packhorse, and my man needs a horse, as well.

  “You hirin’ me for tomorrow, or right now?”

  “Right now.”

  “Your guy got money?”

  “He bought a mine, didn’t he?”

  “Good point.” Chance named a figure and pushed his chair back. “That gonna buckle his knees?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Then I’d say you fellas got yourself a guide.” He stood and put out his hand. He was a little over six feet, a fit-looking thirty or so. Clint shook his hand and took a look at the man’s gun and holster. They were well cared for, and worn like he knew how to use them.

  “Let’s go,” Chance said.

  “Don’t you want to finish your beer?”

  “Are you kiddin’?” Chance asked. “Did you look in your mug yet?”

  Clint glanced at the trio of flies floating in there and said, “I see what you mean.”

  As they headed for the door, Chance said, “Since you just hired me, you wanna pay my tab?”

  EIGHTEEN

  Since Kingman was only two or three years removed from having been a one-horse town, it didn’t take long for Breckens and Edwards to locate Clint Adams after they missed him at the hotel that morning.

  “If you’d get your ass outta bed the first time I call ya—” Breckens was still complaining to Edwards.

  “Okay, okay, I get it, it’s my fault we missed him at the hotel,” Edwards said. “Can we let it drop now?”

  They dropped it, but Breckens kept muttering to himself until they saw Clint Adams walking up Beale Street with another man. Breckens pushed Edwards into a doorway.

  “Who the hell is that?” Breckens demanded.

  “You know who that is, Carl,” Edward said. “He drinks at Number One all the time. It’s that fella Chance.”

  “Crap,” Brec
kens said.

  “They probably just hired him to guide them to the mine,” Edwards said. “What’s the big deal?”

  “It’s another man we might have to kill,” Breckens said. “We’ve gone from one to three now, and all for the same money.”

  Breckens never told his partner that he’d gotten some money from their employer already.

  “Well, we don’t even know for sure that the dandy hired Adams, yet,” Edwards said. “If he did, then we’re gonna need help.”

  “Great,” Breckens said, “more fingers in the pie.”

  “Are we havin’ pie?”

  “Shut up.”

  Clint took Chance to the hotel first to meet the man who was going to be paying all the bills. George Markstein opened the door to his room and invited them in.

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Chance,” he said after Clint had made the introductions, “and very pleased that you’ll be guiding us to our destination.”

  “I hope you’re still pleased after you hear what you’ve got to pay me,” Chance said.

  Markstein looked at Clint, and then back at Chance.

  “And how much is that?”

  Chance told him and waited for his knees to buckle.

  “That’s not a problem,” Markstein said without flinching.

  “Good,” Chance said. “Then we’re all set.”

  “Is there something I should be doing?” Markstein asked.

  “No,” Chance said, “you’ve hired me, so the rest is my job. If you’ll give me some money, I’ll go and buy some supplies.”

  “I’ll go and buy the horses,” Clint said.

  “Wait,” Markstein said. He walked over to his suitcase and took out a wallet. From it he extracted a bunch of bills and brought them back to Chance and Clint.

  “How much will you need?”

  Clint plucked some bills from the man’s hands and said, “This should do it for the horses. If I can, I’ll just rent them. That’ll be cheaper.”

  “And we’ll only have to camp one night,” Chance said, taking some bills, “so this should be plenty.”

  Markstein seemed surprised that he still had some of the money left in his hands.

  “You look surprised,” Clint said. “Did you think we’d take all the money?”

  “I think I might have been fortunate enough to find two honest men in Kingman,” Markstein said.

  “Don’t be so sure about me,” Chance said. He turned to Clint. “I’ll pick up the supplies and meet you at the livery.”

  “Fine,” Clint said. “It’ll take me a while to pick out a couple of likely horses.”

  They left the hotel together and stopped briefly out in front.

  “We have some rough terrain to cover,” Chance said, “unless we just stick to the roads, which I would do if I was guiding somebody with wagons.”

  “Well, we’re not in a hurry,” Clint said, “but one night on the trail should be enough.”

  “Okay, then,” Chance said, “pick out a couple of sure-footed horses. See if they have any buckskins; they generally have harder hooves.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Clint said.

  “You ride that Darley Arabian, don’t you?” Chance asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Then I guess you won’t have any trouble pickin’ out horses. I shouldn’t be tellin’ you what to look for.”

  “No problem,” Clint said. “The more I know about what our ride’s going to be like, the better choices I can make.”

  “On the other hand,” Chance said, “we just might have to settle for what we can get.”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  They split up there, Chance heading for the mercantile and Clint for the livery.

  “Let’s take Adams now,” Edwards said as they watched the two men go their own ways.

  “You know, for the first time in your life you said somethin’ smart a minute ago,” Breckens said.

  “I did?” Edwards looked puzzled. “What was it?”

  “That we don’t know if the dandy’s even hired Clint Adams,” Breckens said. “Until we do know that, why would we chance goin’ up against him?”

  “Okay, then how do we find out?”

  “We just keep watchin’,” Breckens said, “and waitin’.”

  NINETEEN

  When Clint had first left Eclipse at the livery, he’d only concerned himself with the liveryman’s ability to take care of his horse. Now, as he entered, he took a better look at the overall operation. The place looked well cared for, and the horses stabled there looked healthy, which was important. Too many times he’d seen mangy horses in liveries, and had refused to board his own horse there, whether it was Duke in the old days, or Eclipse now.

  “Back to check on your big boy?” the liveryman asked. He approached, wiping his scarred hands on a rag. He was in his sixties and bore all the earmarks of a man who had handled horses all his life—including parts of two fingers missing, having been bitten off. “He’s doin’ real good.”

  “Actually, I need a couple of horses for a trek up to one of the mines,” Clint said.

  “Saddle horses?”

  “One saddle, one pack animal.”

  “Actually,” the man said, “I’ve got two for you that will do the trick, for sure. They’re out back.”

  “Let’s go have a look.”

  The man led Clint through the stable to a back door and along the way said, “My name’s Axel.”

  “Clint Adams.”

  “I know,” Axel said. “It’s a real honor to have your horse in my place, Mr. Adams.”

  “Thanks.”

  Out back was a corral with about a dozen horses in it.

  “You lookin’ ta buy or just rent?”

  “I think it would make more sense for me to rent them,” Clint said. “We’ll be comin’ back this way and I can return them with no problem.”

  “Okay,” Axel said. “I got two buckskins in here the other day that I think will do the job. You know why?”

  “Because their hooves are harder than most horses’?”

  Axel cackled and said, “I knew you was a man who knew horses.”

  Clint wasn’t sure he even knew that about buckskins until Buck Chance had told him. He wondered if Chance’s knowledge of buckskins had anything to do with the fact that he’d chosen the name Buck to replace his real name.

  “See them two, in the back?” Axel said. “One’s a golden hair, one’s a dun, but they’re both buckskins.”

  “Let me have a closer look.”

  They approached the corral and the man opened the gate so they could enter, then closed it behind them.

  As they walked through the corral, the horses scattered to let them through. When they reached the two buckskins, Axel stood aside proudly and allowed Clint to examine them. Clint concerned himself mostly with the condition of their legs, which seemed sturdy enough.

  He placed his hand on the haunches of the golden-haired mare and asked, “This one is, what, six?”

  “Yep.”

  “And the dun gelding? Four?”

  “Five, just turned.”

  They were good-sized horses, the mare actually bigger than the gelding—sixteen hands to slightly over fifteen.

  “Whataya think?”

  “I think we should go inside and talk price,” Clint said.

  “I got me a bottle of good whiskey we can do it over,” Axel said anxiously.

  “I hope you’re not one of those fellas who likes dickering,” Clint said as they walked back through the corral.

  “Well, now—”

  “Because I hate dickering,” Clint said. “I like a man who sets a fair price the first time through.”

  “Well,” Axel said, as they reentered the livery, “that don’t make for much whiskey drinkin’, does it?”

  “Well,” Clint said, slapping the older man on the back, “certainly not a whole bottle.”

  TWENTY

&
nbsp; By the time Buck Chance found his way to the livery, Clint and Axel had come to terms on renting the two horses.

  “I know you,” Axel said as Chance entered. “I got your sorrel in number four.”

  “That’s right.” He looked at Clint. “How’d we do?”

  “Like you said,” Clint replied. “Two buckskins. How’d you know.”

  “I saw one over here the other day,” Chance said. “I was just hoping he had two.”

  “You want them ready to go in the mornin’?” Axel asked.

  “Oh, hell,” Clint said, “I forgot about a saddle.”

  “I got one,” Axel said. “Ain’t great, but it’ll do. Fella couldn’t pay his bill last month, so I took his saddle.”

  “Let’s see it,” Chance said.

  Axel went and brought the saddle back with him. It was worn, but like he had said, it would do.

  “Throw it in,” Clint said.

  “Wha—Aw, okay,” Axel said. “What the hell, I ain’t never gonna sell it, and this way I’ll get it back…right?”

  “Right,” Clint said.

  “Is our employer a horseman?” Chance asked.

  “You know, that’s something I never asked him,” Clint said. “But he won’t squawk either way.”

  “I’m havin’ the supplies delivered here early tomorrow,” Chance told Clint and Axel.

  “I’ll pack yer horse, if you want,” Axel offered. “No extra charge.”

  “You remember which one to pack and which one to saddle, you can do both,” Clint said.

  “I’ll remember.”

  “Good man.” He looked at Chance. “I guess we’re set.”

  “I hate to bring it up,” Chance said, “but does our man have a gun? A rifle?”

  “I’ll find out.”

  “You don’t know much about him, do you?”

  “I’ve seen the color of his money.”

  “Good point. How about some lunch?”

  “Sounds good. I’ve got some money left.”

  “So do I. Hopper House?”

  “Why not?” Clint asked. “Been eating there since I got to town.”

  “Found the best place right off, huh?” Chance said. “Me, I ain’t eaten there in awhile. Be nice to get some good food into my belly.”