Ball and Chain (16 page)

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Authors: J. R. Roberts

BOOK: Ball and Chain
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Pete was doing something at the edge of the creek and he stood up the moment he got a look at Clint. “Hey Hank!” he shouted. “That man from the other day is back!”
A few seconds later, Hank shoved open the door to the mill and came outside. “There were plenty of men about over the last few days, you simpleminded fool! Which one was . . .” The moment he caught sight of Clint, Hank stopped in his tracks and fell silent.
“See?” Pete grunted. “Now he's the man from today.”
“Shut your mouth and fix the wheel like I asked,” Hank said.
Pete got to his feet and ran to the wheel.
“What the hell do you want?” the old man asked.
“Where's Ellie?” Clint asked. Before he could give a word of explanation, he saw a fire light in Hank's eyes. “She might be in danger. Have you seen her?”
“The only danger she's in is because of you. Now get the hell off my property before I have you tossed out on yer ear!”
“You're right,” Clint said, which clearly threw Hank for a loop. “It might be partly my fault, because one of those men that came after me might have gotten ahold of her.”
Hank stormed away from the door and charged at Clint. Considering the old man's shotgun or any other weapon had to be inside the mill, Clint was glad to have drawn him onto neutral ground. “What are you sayin' to me, boy?” Hank snarled.
“I'm not certain, but one of those men might have decided to go after Ellie. I could be wrong, but I thought I'd check in to find her for myself. If you know where she is, you can just tell me and I'll be on my way. I didn't come to make any trouble.”
Narrowing his squint even more, Hank asked, “You didn't? So Ellie is really in trouble?”
“Do you know where she is? You don't have to tell me where she is,” Clint added. “Do you at least know?”
“No,” Hank admitted. “I don't.”
“Then she might be in trouble.”
THIRTY-SIX
It had only been a matter of hours, but Ellie and Acklund spoke to each other as if they were lifelong friends. They didn't even touch upon any pressing matters or important topics. All they did was swap stories along with a few jokes to make the night fly past in a rush.
When the restaurant was closing its doors, Ellie had pleaded with her friend to let them stay. After the cook had left and the cleaning was done, her friend was anxious to leave and practically shoved both of them through the door. “If you want to stay any longer,” the friend had told them, “you'll have to rent a room.”
Ellie stood outside the hotel and looked at the locked door to the restaurant on the lower floor. “Well,” she sighed, “I guess I should go.”
“Your father's probably worried sick, huh?” Acklund asked.
“Yes. Probably.”
“Maybe you should . . .” At that moment, Acklund heard the rumble of horses galloping down the street. He looked in that direction and saw a group of three men rounding the corner and heading straight for the hotel. The riders didn't pull back on their reins, allowing the horses to tear through town like a storm.
Night had fallen some time ago, leaving only a few torches scattered along the side of the street to give off any light. Even in the darkness, Acklund could pick out Mose's blond hair fluttering like a dirty flag from the big man's head. Before his brother or the other two riders could get a good look at him, Acklund grabbed Ellie so he stood between her and Mose.
“Maybe we should do what your friend suggested,” Acklund said.
Ellie laughed nervously and shook her head. “I don't think that would be such a good—”
Acklund cut her off by pressing his lips against hers. He also pulled her closer so her face was hidden as Mose and the other two men rode past. Even after the rumble of nearby hooves faded away, Acklund kept kissing her.
The longer their lips remained together, the more heat they could feel from one another. Acklund lost sight of any other reason he'd had in starting the kiss and Ellie wasn't at all eager to finish it. In fact, she pressed in tight against him and opened her mouth a bit so she could run the tip of her tongue along Acklund's mouth.
By the time Mose and the others had rounded a corner and gone out of sight, Acklund was reluctant to break away from her. Somehow, he forced himself to do so.
“Could you do me a favor?” he asked.
Ellie replied in a breathless sigh. “What?”
“Could you stay here? Just wait for me inside. There's something I need to do and I don't want you to go home just yet.”
When she moved her head, it was difficult for Acklund to tell whether Ellie was nodding or just leaning back for some air. “I won't go anywhere,” she said.
“Good.” Before Acklund could take two steps toward the street, he was stopped by a powerful grip around his arm.
Ellie grabbed hold of him as if she were about to pull his arm from its socket. “Where are you going?” she asked urgently.
“There's something I need to take care of.”
“Can't it wait?”
The hunger in Ellie's eyes was unmistakable. Her grip on him held a world of promise and even the tone in her voice got a fire burning deep inside of Acklund's body. Even with all of that, he somehow got himself to say, “No. It can't wait.”
“Hurry back, then.”
“You've got my word on that.”
But Ellie wasn't about to let him go just yet. When he'd moved to the end of her reach only to be pulled back again, Acklund found her staring at him intently.
“When I said hurry, I meant it,” she told him. “I don't want this night to be done, but I won't wait forever.”
“Don't worry. You won't be waiting long.”
Apparently, that was what she wanted to hear. Ellie renewed the smile on her face and let go of Acklund's arm. She stayed in front of the hotel until he'd rounded the corner and left her sight.
From there, Acklund broke into a run and didn't stop until he got to the spot where he'd tied his horse.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Acklund moved as if his tail were on fire. He ran to his horse so quickly that its four legs beneath him hardly got him moving faster than the two of his own. He snapped his reins and didn't let up until he'd caught sight of Mose and the two riders accompanying him. He came up on the three men so fast that they all drew their guns and turned on him before they made it back to the brothers' camp.
“Acklund?” Mose shouted as he squinted into the shadows. “That you?”
“Hell, yes, it's me!”
“You gotta stop runnin' up on me like that. I'm liable to—”
“Who are these men?” Acklund asked before Mose could finish his threat.
The big blond man sat tall in his saddle and nodded at each rider flanking him. “These are Dave's friends,” he said with a proud grin. “That's Al and that's Rob.”
The two riders seemed to be about Dave's age, which made Acklund look at them as if they were kids. Even though Dave had only been a few years Acklund's junior, Dave had always been the little brother. Therefore, “little” came to mind when Acklund looked at the men who'd been Dave's friends.
Al kept his beady eyes fixed upon Acklund and gave him a short wave when Acklund looked back at him. Al had long hair the color of trampled straw, which was tied behind his head like a horse's tail. His buckskin jacket had seen many nights in the wilderness, and the bone-handled knife strapped across his belly was well-worn with daily use.
Although just as rough around the edges, Rob looked like he'd been spawned from wild animals instead of just hunting them. His dark hair sprung from his scalp at odd angles to form a bush on top of his head. A thick goatee may not have covered his entire face, but it kept most of his mouth from being seen. As a greeting, he gave Acklund a lazy upward nod, which also caused his chin to sag as if that part of him was tied to his chest. Now that he moved a bit, it became obvious that his eyes didn't exactly focus on the same spot.
“So you boys knew our brother?” Acklund asked.
“That's right,” Rob said with a distinctive drawl. “An' he told us plenty about you two.”
It was obvious Rob wanted to be asked what had been discussed, but Acklund ignored him and shifted his eyes to Al. “What did you and Dave do?”
“We robbed the Union Pacific line a few years back,” Al said.
“The whole line, huh?”
“No. Just the—”
“So you're outlaws,” Acklund said impatiently. “Why should you get involved with family business?”
“Hey!” Rob snapped. “Mose asked us to come along. Dave was our friend and we don't want the asshole who killed him to walk away pretty as you please.”
“Then you're out to kill a horse,” Acklund said. “Because that's how Dave died. He fell off a horse. You still want blood?”
Al glanced at Mose, but Rob kept his crooked eyes pointed in Acklund's general direction and didn't bother to close his mouth as he exhaled like a bass.
“We was told there was another gunman who killed him,” Al said. “A man by the name of Adams.”
“That's right, but—”
“Ain't no buts about it, Acklund,” Mose roared. “Adams was there and it's because of him Dave's dead. If you don't give a shit, then leave the job to us who do.”
“What job?” Acklund demanded. “The job that got us into this mess was Dave's stupid idea.”
“You came along this far,” Mose pointed out. “You shot up that house with them folks in it just to put down the mangy dog that killed Dave. You remember that?”
“Sure I do. Somewhere while we were getting shot at, I realized we were on a fool's errand. Dave's still dead and Adams was defending himself just like any one of us would've done.”
Scowling with confused anger, Mose said, “You went into town to find Adams! You told me you found where he was stayin' and that you could figure out where we could hit him again so we could finish the bastard.”
“I know. Maybe it took a while for me to see things differently, but they're plenty clear now. When I was sittin' there I—”
“Wait,” Mose growled. “You didn't go there to find Adams so we could kill him. You probably went there to warn him!”
Reaching for his knife, Al snarled, “No good traitor!”
Acklund drew his .38 and pointed it at Al before the other man could get his blade clear of its scabbard. “Keep your nose out of this, goddammit! This is between me and my brother.”
“Dave was like a brother to us,” Rob said as he used one eye to sight along the top of his own pistol. He was close enough to make his aim accurate enough to hit someone.
Mose skinned his gun and immediately pointed it at Rob. “Don't forget yer place, boy,” he said in a tone that he'd used on all his little brothers at one time or another.
Letting out a grunting sigh, Rob lowered his gun.
“We've had our time to simmer down, Mose,” Acklund said. “Haven't you had time to think about what we're doing? Doesn't it seem like we could be in too deep? I've heard of Clint Adams. He could kill us easy, but he didn't even do that when we were ambushing him. He could've gunned Dave down without a thought, but he didn't. Maybe this was all a mistake.”
“Mistake, my ass,” Mose shot back. “If you're afraid of Adams, then just ride on home.”
Acklund lowered his pistol and dropped it into its holster. He knew his older brother well enough to recognize when a notion was wedged so deeply into his head that nobody could pull it out. Dave being killed had only wedged it in that much deeper. He looked around at the other two men, but knew better than to think they'd talk any sense.
As if to prove Acklund right, Rob said, “I ain't afraid of no man. The four of us can kill Clint Adams.”
“We'll do it right there in town,” Al added. “Middle of the afternoon, so everyone can see.”
“So everyone can see?” Acklund chuckled. “Jesus, you really are just as stupid as Dave was.”
“What the hell happened to you, brother?” Mose asked. “Don't you know blood is thicker than anything?”
“I know that. I just came to my senses is all. Hopefully, you'll do the same before you let these two idiots turn you into a wanted man or, worse yet, a dead one.”
“You set out with the two of us to rob that fella,” Mose pointed out.
“And it was a mistake. So is this.” Tired of talking to a bunch of fools who didn't want to listen, Acklund turned his back to them and rode away.
THIRTY-EIGHT
It was getting late and Clint still hadn't caught sight of Ellie. Hinterland wasn't a big town, so it didn't take Clint long to ride up and down every street, circle back, and ride them again. He checked in at Aunt Iris's cottage, but it was just as quiet and dark as the Mason house. Somewhere along the line, it seemed Clint had lost track of Hank as well.
Clint rode back to the mill, but it was closed up.
He looked in on Bernadette, but the slender woman hadn't even left her spot. She swore to tell Clint if she saw Ellie when she delivered the picture, but he was afraid that would be too late. If those gunmen had Ellie, Clint couldn't afford to waste a single moment. For all he knew, she could already be dead.
Dead or worse.
Rather than retrace his steps a third time, Clint decided to stop and think. There were enough thoughts rattling in his head to fill his ears with a jangling sound, so he decided to do something about that, too.
Normally, Clint wouldn't have chosen a place like the Howling Moon Saloon to sit and gather his thoughts. While the rest of town was settling in for the night, the Howling Moon was living up to its name. Card games were getting rowdy, the piano player was banging on the keys as if they'd wronged him, and the drunks were getting boisterous. Compared to the aggravation that had filled the last few of his days, sitting in the middle of that storm did Clint a lot of good. At least he knew what to expect.

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