Ace in the Hole (7 page)

Pete eventually came back outside, where he and Clint agreed on a price to rent the buggy and the horse. An eight-year-old mare Clint felt was good enough for the job.

“How'd you do with that other fellow?” Clint asked.

“I give him a fair price and he took it,” Pete said. “Easiest sale I ever made.”

“What about a saddle?”

“Kept that old one he rode in on.”

“And the other horse?”

“He give it to me, but it ain't good for nothin'.”

“Did he say when he was leaving town? Or where he was going from here?”

“Nope,” Pete said. “He just bought hisself a horse. Funny thing, though.”

“What's that?”

“He asked me a lot of the same questions about you.”

Clint decided to stop in on the sheriff after he finished up at the livery. The man looked up from his desk as Clint entered. From the look on his face he was expecting someone else.

“Adams,” he said. “Can I do somethin' for you?”

“You've got a stranger in town named Calhoun.”

Kent sat back in his chair.

“Yeah, I know about him.”

“I just met him at the livery,” Clint said. “Told me he was a friend of yours.”

“More like an acquaintance, from years ago,” Kent said. “I was surprised to see him here.”

“You got any idea what he's doing here?”

“Just passin' through, as far as I know.”

“You talked to him?”

“Of course I did,” Kent said. “That's my job.”

“He told me he was here to see you.”

“I don't think that's true,” Kent said. “Not entirely, anyway. But we did renew acquaintances, and I don't think he's gonna stay here more than a day.”

“Looks to me like he might've just gotten out of prison.”

Kent studied Clint for a moment, then said, “If he did, that's his business, ain't it? What's your interest?”

“With my reputation, it pays to keep tabs on some people,” Clint said vaguely. “Thanks for your time.”

“Speakin' of leavin' town,” Kent said, “how much longer you figure on stayin'?”

“Not much,” Clint said. “Don't know for sure yet, but not much longer.”

“Well, enjoy the rest of your stay. I don't think you've got anything to worry about from Calhoun.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Clint walked to the door, then turned back.

“What's this Calhoun's first name?”

“Tito.”

“Tito?”

“Mexican mother, Irish father,” Kent said. “Why?”

Clint shrugged.

“Like I said, just keeping tabs.”

He left the sheriff's office, then stopped just outside the door. He had a feeling the lawman wasn't telling him everything he knew about Tito Calhoun.

But he thought he knew who could tell him more, and he headed for the telegraph office.

Now that Calhoun and Kent had established that they knew each other, it was no problem for Calhoun to enter the lawman's office soon after Clint had left.

“Adams was just here askin' about you,” Kent said.

“So what?”

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothin',” Calhoun said, sitting across from Kent. “I just got to know him a little.”

“You think that was smart?”

“He saw me ride in,” Calhoun said. “We was both at the livery gettin' a horse. It woulda looked bad not to say somethin'.”

“Maybe.”

“He knows from my clothes and my horse that I just got out. Hell, he can tell. It still don't mean nothin'. Relax, Tom.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kent said.

“What'd you tell him?”

“Nothin'” Kent said. “I handled it okay. I told him we were acquainted.”

“You're sure he's gonna be at this game?”

“He's playin' in the game,” Kent said. “I got that for sure.”

“We need to know who else is in that game,” Calhoun said. “We can't make a move without knowing that. We don't know what we'll be walkin' in to.”

“What if we just wait until the game's over and rob the winner?” Kent asked.

Calhoun shook his head.

“You think those fellas are gonna come out pattin' the winner on the back? Or that the winner's gonna be smiling and actin' like a winner? That ain't gonna work, Tom. We'd have to rob all of them just to find the winner.”

“So what do we do?”

“We take the game while it's in progress,” Calhoun said.

“You mean…we go in?”

Calhoun nodded.

“And that's why we have to know who is at that table,” Calhoun explained. “And how many men we're gonna need. We can't walk into that room blind, and walk into a bunch of guns.”

“I get it,” Kent told him.

“Then get it,” Calhoun said. “Get the information.”

“I will.”

“I've got some men standing by in Selwin,” Calhoun said. Selwin was the next town over, going north. “We'll pick up however many we need on the way, but it's up to you to find out how many that is.”

“All right,” Kent said. “I'll find out. I told you I'd get all the information we need. But there's something you need to understand, too, Tito.”

“What's that, Tom?”

“I'm in charge of this…expedition.”

“Just call it a job, Tom,” Calhoun said. “We're pullin' a job.”

“Fine,” Kent said, “it's a job, but it's my job. I put it together, so I call the shots. Do you understand that?”

Calhoun stared at Kent for a few moments, then said, “Hey, Tom, sure I understand. Listen, you gave me somethin' to do when I got out, you bought me new clothes, a new horse.” He slapped Kent on the back. “'Course I know you're in charge. I'm just tryin' to do what you brought me in to do.”

“Okay,” Kent said, “I just wanted to get that cleared up before we go any further.”

“It's clear, boy,” Tito Calhoun said. “Believe me, it's real crystal clear.

Clint knew there was a good chance he'd have to leave town before he got a return telegram from his friend Rick Hartman. But luckily, that turned out not to be the case. The telegraph operator found Clint standing at the bar in the Red Garter and handed him his reply.

“Whataya got there?” Dave Hopeville asked.

“Just a telegram answering some questions.”

“About who?”

Clint refolded the telegram and picked up the beer he had been working on.

“You're pretty nosy.”

“Guilty,” Hopeville said. “I like to know what's going on in town.”

“Well, this really isn't about the town,” Clint said, “so there's no need to worry, or wonder.”

“In other words, it's none of my business,” Hopeville said without rancor.

“No,” Clint said, “those are pretty much the words.”

“I gotcha,” Hopeville said. He turned to the bartender. “Charge him double for his beer.”

“Right, Boss.”

As Hopeville walked away, Travis leaned over the bar and said, “He don't mean it.”

“I know,” Clint said. “Give me another one, will you?”

It was an odd feeling for Diane to be with a man who didn't want to have sex with her, but it was actually a relief as well.

Tom Kent was all wound up—too much so, in fact, to be able to perform. When she grabbed his crotch, nothing happened, and he backed away.

“Something's on your mind,” she said.

“I need the information, Diane,” Kent said. “I can't plan anything until I know when, where and who.”

“I've got the when and where,” she assured him.

“You do?”

“I finally managed to pry it out of him.”

“Well? Where is it?”

“A day's ride from here,” she said. “A ranch owned by a man named John Deal.”

“You're kiddin',” Kent said. “A poker game in the home of a man named Deal?”

“I'm not kidding,” she said.

“And when is it?”

“It starts on Sunday,” she said. “Arliss and Adams are leaving tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Kent said. “Okay. The game should go on for a few days. We've got plenty of time. Now all we need are the names of the players.”

“I don't have that.”

“Damn it, Diane—”

“Arliss doesn't have it, either,” she told him. “They won't find out who all the players are until they get there.”

“Exactly where is this ranch?” Kent asked.

“California,” she said. “Between here and Sacramento.”

“Sacramento,” he said. “That's bad.”

“Why?”

“Too much law there. It's a big city. Sheriffs, marshals and a police force.”

“Why are you worried about that?” she asked. “You're not going to Sacramento after you hit the game.”

“Well, we can't come back here, either.”

“No,” she said. “We'll meet in Sparks, and then head north to Oregon. They won't find us there.”

“We hope.”

She came closer and stroked his face, then stopped. She didn't want to get him worked up.

“Do you have your men set?”

“I'm workin' on it,” he said. “We don't know how many we'll need.”

“We?”

“I have one man already,” Kent said. “He'll be my right hand. But without knowing exactly who's in the game, it will be hard to figure out how many men we'll need.”

“It's bound to be a bunch of businessmen and gamblers,” she said.

“Yeah,” Kent said, “gamblers like the Gunsmith, maybe.”

“He's only one man.”

“Unless somebody like Bat Masterson or Ben Thompson is involved.”

“Then take enough men to handle any eventuality,” she said calmly.

“We'll have to pay them.”

“You can get them cheap,” she said. “All you need is enough guns to keep anyone from getting brave. If you get the jump on them—”

“Diane,” he said, “leave the actual plannin' to me, okay? I'll do what I can with the information that you're givin' me.”

Now she grabbed his face in her hands, and not in a way that could be misconstrued as romantic.

“Don't lose your nerve on me now, Tom Kent.”

He backed off from her so that her hands fell away from his face.

“I'm not losin' my nerve, Diane,” he said. “I want this money as bad as you do.”

She doubted that.

“That's good,” she said. “That's all I wanted to know.”

“I have to go,” he said. “I can't stay.”

She considered pouting, but thought that might convince him to stay.

“I have to go, too,” she said. “Are you going to leave tomorrow, like they are?”

“If the spread you're talkin' about is big enough, we'll probably be able to find it,” Kent said. “If we try to follow them, we might be spotted.”

“I'll try to pin the location down further for you,” she said. “We can talk again in the morning, while Arliss is preparing to leave.”

“Good,” he said. “I'll see you in the mornin', then.”

She decided she at least had to kiss him good-bye, just to keep him hooked. She did so, but made it short and kept her tongue to herself.

“In the morning,” she said.

“I'll be here.”

He left the hotel and went to meet Calhoun.

“I'm gonna follow them,” Calhoun said.

They were in one of the smaller saloons in town, where they figured nobody would see them. It didn't really matter, but they didn't want to push their luck.

“What?”

“I'm not gonna take a chance that we can't find this place,” the outlaw said.

“But you might be spotted—”

“Don't worry,” Calhoun said. “I ain't been in prison so long I forgot how to trail somebody without bein' seen.”

“Yeah, but this is the Gunsmith—”

“Relax, Tom,” Calhoun said. “It's gonna be okay. I'll follow them, locate them and then get word to you.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“I'll take somebody with me,” Calhoun said. “Got the man all picked out. And before you ask, they won't spot him, either. Guaranteed.”

Kent stared into his beer.

“You're gonna have to get rid of that badge,” Calhoun said.

“What?”

“At least take it off when you're around me,” the outlaw said. “It gives me the creeps.”

Kent looked down at his badge, then slowly unpinned it and dropped it into his shirt pocket.

“When are you gonna resign?” Calhoun asked.

“I-I hadn't thought about it.”

“Well, don't do it before the job,” Calhoun said, “do it after.”

“After?” Kent asked. “I, uh, didn't think I'd come back here after.”

“You have to come back,” Calhoun said, “or they'll know you were in on it. You have to come back and stay awhile.”

“But…ain't they gonna see our faces?”

“I hope not,” Calhoun said. “We're gonna wear masks. I figured you knew that.”

“Oh, yeah…What about you?” Kent asked, to hide the fact that he hadn't known about the masks. “What are you gonna do after?”

“Me? I'm just gonna take off with my share.”

“And what about my share?”

“I assumed your partner would hold it for you.”

“My partner?”

“You said somebody else was involved,” Calhoun said with a shrug. “Somebody who was givin' you the inside information. I assumed they'd hold it.”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“Don't you trust them?”

“Sure I do.”

“Then there's no problem, right?” Calhoun asked. “You should probably come back, stay six months and then resign.”

“Six months!”

“Or three, or nine,” Calhoun said. “It's up to you. Now, about the players' names…”

“That was the only piece of information I couldn't come up with,” Kent said. “Nobody knows. They won't know until they get there.”

“That's gonna make things a little harder.”

“But not impossible.”

“No,” Calhoun said. “We'll just have to go in fast and hit them hard, before anybody can make a move. To m…we'll have to kill them all. You got a problem with that?”

“Kill them? But why?” Kent asked. “You just said we'd be wearin' masks.”

“That was when I thought we'd know who and what we were up against,” Calhoun said. “If we don't know who's in that room, we're gonna have to go in with guns blazin'. When I identify the players, I want them to be dead.”

“You…got men in mind who'll do that?” Kent asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Calhoun said. “We're gonna need maybe six good men. With us that'll make eight.”

“You ain't thinkin' about an eight-way split, are you?” Kent asked. Diane wouldn't stand for that.

“No, no,” Calhoun said. “Me and you are the only ones gettin' an even split.”

“And my partner.”

“Right, right,” Calhoun said, “and your partner. The others will just be guns for hire. We'll pay them before we split the take three ways.”

“Why before?”

“That way it don't all come out of one person's cut.”

“You've got this all thought out, don't you?”

“Most of it,” Calhoun said. “Some of it's just the way things are done when you're dealin' with a gang.”

“A gang…”

“Your gang, Tom,” Calhoun said. “The Kent Gang.”