Read Gunsmith 360 : The Mad Scientist of the West (9781101545997) Online

Authors: J. R. Roberts

Gunsmith 360 : The Mad Scientist of the West (9781101545997) (14 page)

BOOK: Gunsmith 360 : The Mad Scientist of the West (9781101545997)

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He sighted down the barrel, watched as the three men continued to move in closer.

“Hello there,” Givens said, reining his horse in.

“Hello,” Clint said.

“I remember you,” Miranda said.

“Oh yeah,” Givens said, “the lady sheriff. What are you doin' here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Me? Well, I tol' ya, I'm looking for a couple of men.”

“And who might they be?” Clint asked.

“Well,” Givens said, “if I ain't wrong, I'm thinkin' you're one of 'em. That means the other one must be inside.”

“And you came here all alone?” Clint asked.

“Why not?” Givens asked. “It ain't like I'm lookin' for trouble.”

“Well, I think you found some,” Clint said. “Your three friends must be coming up on the back of the house about now. The minute they make a move, you're a dead man.”

“Now what kinda talk is thatâ”

“Mister,” Miranda said, “seems to me you'd be better off finding out the name of the man your trackin' before you track 'im.”

Givens frowned.

“What's that got to do with anythin'?” he asked.

“Allow me to introduce you,” Miranda said. “This here fella is Clint Adams. That mean anythin' to you?”

Givens stared at Clint for a few moments, then shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.

“Clint Adams?” he said.

“That's right,” Clint said.

“The, uh, Gunsmith?”

“That's right,” Miranda said. “The Gunsmith.”

Givens thought about Roman, Lefty, and Donnie coming up on the back of the house and said to himself,
Goddamn them!

FORTY-ONE

The predator tightened his finger on the trigger, still sighting on the three men. One of them had his arm in a sling, so he decided to concentrate on the other two. He didn't know what their story was. Were they there for Tesla? Or the Gunsmith? Did they even know who they were sneaking up on?

And was the big man out front with them? Or were they simply taking advantage of the distraction?

He picked his target, and aimed at him.

“I'm assuming you're here to distract us while the others work their way from behind,” Clint said. “I've got to tell you, you won't live to see if this plan works.”

Givens wet his lips.

“N-Now wait a minute, Adams,” he said. “Nobody tol' me you was here.”

“That's not an excuse for trying to kill me,” Clint said.

“No, no,” Givens said, “I didn't come here to kill you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Roman,” Givens said, “you broke his arm with an ax handle. H-He just wants to get back at you.”

“So he's creeping up behind us with his two friends?” Miranda asked.

“That's right,” Givens said, “Lefty and Donnie.”

“And you're just here to help them,” Clint said. “Maybe hold me down while they do some damage with an ax handle.”

“No, no, no,” Givens said quickly, “I was just comin' to make sure everythin' was, ya know, fair.”

“And you're in favor of things being fair, right?” Clint asked.

“Sure,” Givens said, “sure I am.”

He wished he had the nerve to draw on the Gunsmith, but he didn't. Jesus, what if he killed him? What a reputation he'd have. Maybe if Roman and those other two idiots would show up . . .

“I know you're waiting for your three friends to show up,” Clint said, “but I've got to tell you, you're going to catch my first bullet.”

“Now, wait a minuteâ”

“I think I hear 'em comin' now,” Miranda said.

“You take that side,” Clint said to Miranda, “and I'll take this.”

“Right.”

Givens sat his horse, still trying to work up the nerve to go for his gun. If he was on his feet, if he and Adams were facing each other with no guns, it would be different. There wasn't a man alive who could stand up to him in a fight.

He waited for his chance.

The predator switched his target.

The big man on the horse was probably the most dangerous of the four. That was probably why he went riding straight to the front of the house. He saw Clint Adams and the lady sheriff split the sides of the house. They knew about the others, and were ready.

He moved the barrel of his rifle and sighted on the broad back of the man on the horse, and waited for the action to commence.

FORTY-TWO

Clint waited for the men to come into view before he removed his gun from his holster.

Miranda held on to her rifle. Not being as adept as the Gunsmith was, she needed to be ready.

Roman wondered for a moment why he didn't hear any voices. Givens was supposed to keep them talking. Just for a moment he thought he should wait, but then he drew his gun.

“Go ahead,” he told Donnie.

As Lefty came around the other side of the house, he saw Givens still sitting his horse. The odd thing was, Givens never went for his gun. Lefty took a few more steps, and found himself looking down the barrel of Miranda Lawson's Remington.

“Shit!” he said.

Miranda saw the man appear with a gun in his hand and didn't hesitate. If he was just some innocent man wandering around the mountain, too bad.

She shot him.

Clint saw the man with the gun come running around the house and recognized him as one of the three.

Donnie saw Clint, recognized him as the man with the ax handle.

The man's gun was still in his holster. Donnie grinned and raised his gun.

“No ax handle now,” he said.

“Don't need one,” Clint said.

He drew and fired.

Roman heard the shot and saw Donnie step back, and then fall onto his back.

“Donnie?”

Two more steps and he'd see what was going on in front of the house.

But he stopped.

Tesla heard the shots and came to the door.

“What is happening?” he asked.

Clint turned and shouted, “Nikola, get back inside!”

Then he heard the sound. A bullet striking flesh. The sound of the shot came later.

The big man on the horse swayed, frowned, and fell from his saddle. He was bleeding from a huge hole in his chest.

Tesla looked down at the body.

“Whatâ”

“Inside!” Clint said. He rushed forward and pushed Tesla inside and closed the door.

A bullet struck the door and punched right through it.

The predator fired, struck the big man dead center in the back. He knew his bullet would punch right through. He ejected the spent shell, inserted a fresh one, then saw Tesla in the doorway. He fired a split second too late. Adams had shoved Tesla inside and the bullet had struck the door.

“Damn!” he swore.

“What's going on?” Miranda asked.

She looked down at the fallen man, and at the size of the hole in him.

“What did that?” she asked.

“Sharps,” Clint said, “Big Fifty.”

FORTY-THREE

“Inside!” Clint yelled again, this time to Miranda. “Before he reloads.”

She ran to the door. He pushed her in, ran in behind her, and slammed the door.

“What is happening?” Tesla asked.

“There's another assassin,” Clint said.

“But the shots . . .”

“We took care of the others,” Clint said. “Actually, with the help of the assassin. He shot the big one.”

“We're missin' one,” Miranda said.

“Right,” Clint said. “The one with the broken arm.”

Suddenly, it became dark out.

“The storm clouds are coming in,” Tesla said.

“Where is the assassin?' Miranda said. “You said he's firing a buffalo gun?”

“Yup,” Clint said. “Could be from three or four hundred yards away.”

“Well, our guns are no good at that distance.”

“Let me see your Remington,” Clint said.

She handed it to him.

“Yeah,” he said, “I could get him with this, but I'd have to know where he is.”

“How you gonna make a shot with that?” she asked.

“I know of a man who made a shot with a Remington at four hundred yards.”

“What if he's farther away than that?”

“Then I'll have to get closer,” Clint said.

“What do we do?” Tesla asked.

“You stay inside,” Clint said. “Miranda, I need him to take one shot so I can locate him.”

“So you want me to be the target?”

“I don't
want
you to be.”

“I can do it,” Tesla said.

“No,” Clint said.

“Yes,” Tesla said. “Why would he shoot at her? He doesn't want her. He wants me.”

Clint looked at him. He was right. If Miranda stepped out, the shooter would ignore her. Clint wasn't sure why he'd shot the big man. Maybe he was afraid he'd lose his preyâTesla. So it was only Tesla who could draw him out and get him to take another shot.

“All right,” Clint said.

“You can't let him do that,” Miranda said.

“You'll have to help me spot him, Miranda,” Clint said. “You stand at one window, me at the other. When you see the muzzle flash, call out. I'll get him.”

“What if you miss?”

“I won't.”

The shooter kept his rifle trained on the door. The storm was coming in behind him. He had to make the shot now. He'd waited too long, and now was in danger of losing his prey. If only his partner hadn't gotten careless, they'd have worked this together.

He was going to take one last shot from here, and then move in closer.

Tesla walked to the door.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I'm ready,” Miranda said at one window.

“Wait,” Clint said, standing at the other window. He broke out the glass with the rifle stock. “Okay, ready.”

Tesla opened the door.

Behind the house, Roman wasn't sure what to do. Running was an option, but he was still mad. Even if the others were dead, he had a chance for his revenge.

There was no back door, but there were back windows. If he could get in that way, he could take them from behind.

He approached the back of the house, then heard the growling noise.

He turned quickly and saw the cat.

FORTY-FOUR

Clint had an idea of where the shots might have come from. If he'd been the one with a Sharps, he knew where he'd position himself.

Tesla had his hand on the door, so Clint put his finger on the trigger.

Tesla held his breath and opened the door. His instructions were to stand still, count to three, and then drop down, but he found himself curiously staring out into the distance, wondering where the shot was going to come from.

Clint had explained that with the weapon they were dealing with, the bullet would reach them before the sound of the shot.

“Nikola, down!” Clint shouted.

Tesla dropped just as a bullet punched through the door.

“I saw itâ” Miranda shouted, but Clint ignored her. He saw it, too.

He sighted down the barrel of the Remington. The cloud cover didn't help. There was no sun to reflect off any metal. By the same token, there was no sun in Clint's eyes.

He saw him. The man had stood to make the shot, and that was his undoing.

Clint fired.

The predator heard the shot, even saw the muzzle flash, but was convinced he was out of range. He was about to shoulder his Sharps for another shot when something punched him in the chest. Curious, he looked down and saw the blood.

How?
he wondered.

His last thought was,
Damn, that was a good shot!

“Did you get him?” Miranda shouted.

“I got him,” Clint said. “Nikola, you okay?”

“I am fine,” Tesla said, “I think.”

At that moment they heard the commotion from behind the house.

“Back window!” Clint shouted.

When Roman saw the cat, he froze.

The animal was huge, and Roman knew it could be on him in seconds with its long strides. His only hope was that the animal would decide he wasn't really that good a meal for him.

With his right arm in a sling, there was no way he'd be able to pull his gun in time left-handed.

He stared at the cat, hoping the animal would see something in his eyes that would change its mind.

Apparently it did see something in his eyes.

Fear.

The cat moved.

Roman screamed.