Town of Two Women (9781101612125) (6 page)

EIGHTEEN

Clint left the Dry Wash and walked to City Hall. He found Gina Hopewell waiting for him outside. She was wearing a dress that was fancier than the one she'd had on that morning.

“I'm not late, am I?” Clint asked.

“Not at all,” she said. “I actually left early, went home, and changed for supper.”

“You look very pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you have a place picked out?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “It's right near here.”

“Good,” he said. “Let's go.”

They started walking, and Clint noticed that Gina appeared a little nervous.

“Did you meet me out front so we wouldn't run into your boss?” Clint asked.

“Well . . .”

“That's okay,” he said. “I understand. There's no point in looking for trouble if you can avoid it.”

“I hope you're not angry.”

“Not at all,” Clint said. “Just take me to some good food.”

“You won't be disappointed,” she promised.

*   *   *

He wasn't disappointed. She took him to a small restaurant on a side street, and if the food wasn't so good, he might have thought she was still trying to hide them from her boss.

“Do you want to ask more questions about Mr. Locksley?” she asked while they ate.

“Well, I've actually found out more than I need to know today,” he said, “so no, I don't need to talk about him. I'd rather talk about you.”

They spent half an hour talking about how she came to be in Heathstead, and how she got the job working for Eric Locksley. And as they talked, Clint did think of some other questions he could ask about Locksley.

“I know I said I had no questions,” he said to her over dessert, “but I have a few.”

“That's all right,” she said. “Go ahead and ask.”

“What do you know about the girl, Mary Connelly, and Locksley's son, Jack?”

“You mean about their relationship?”

“I mean about whether they were going to be married or not.”

Gina looked around, but there was nobody sitting near them. She lowered her voice anyway.

“Jack and Mary were never going to get married,” she said. “Jack thought they were, but she wasn't in love with the boy.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Believe me,” she said. “That girl was after somebody else.”

“Do you know who?”

“Actually,” Gina said, “I don't. I just know she had no feelings for Jack.”

“Did Locksley know this?”

“I think he did.”

“And his wife?”

“That woman,” Gina said, “seems to know everything.”

“So when she sent her son away, and had Mary ridden out of town, she knew it wasn't about them.”

“Right.”

“Then why did she do it?”

“I told you this morning,” Gina said. “She's mean.”

*   *   *

When they finished supper, they left the restaurant. Outside he asked, “May I walk you home?”

“I'm not going home,” she said. “I have some other stops to make.”

“Oh.”

“I visit some of the sick people in town,” she said. “Bring them food.”

“That reminds me,” he said. “I have to bring some food to some people as well. Should we go back inside?”

“No, not here,” she said. “I have a place where I pick the food up. Come on, I'll show you.”

She led him to a familiar café, and when they walked in, Amy the waitress smiled at him.

“You're back.”

“You know each other?” Gina asked.

“I've been picking up some food here for the doc,” Clint said.

“I've got your meals ready, Gina,” Amy said. She looked at Clint. “Should I make a couple for you?”

“Two would be great, Amy. Thanks.”

A few minutes later Amy came out with meals for Gina and said to Clint, “Yours will be ready soon.”

“I better deliver these while they're hot,” Gina said.

“All right,” Clint said. “I'll see you another time.”

Gina started to leave as Amy went back into the kitchen, then stopped.

“I live in a small house on Bennett Street. It's number fourteen. Come by when you have a chance.”

“I will,” Clint said. “Thanks.”

Impulsively, she kissed his cheek, and then left.

*   *   *

Amy came out later carrying a tray covered with a napkin.

“Gina's gone?”

“Yes,” he said. “She had to deliver her meals while they were hot.”

“You gonna be in town much longer?” she asked.

“I don't know. Why?”

“If you want company, Gina's not the girl.”

“Why not?”

“No experience.”

“Can you think of somebody who does have experience?” he asked.

“Sure thing, honey,” she said. “Me.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

As he started to leave, she put her hand on his arm.

“Don't hurt that girl,” she said. “Me, I'm cast-iron. But that girl isn't. Understand?”

“I do understand, Amy,” he said. “You're a good friend.”

Amy nodded, her hands behind her back. Clint left.

NINETEEN

But there were other experienced women in town, and at that moment Wes Tolbert was enjoying one of them. Her name was Annie Jackson. At thirty-five she was one of the more experienced whores in the house. That was the reason Tolbert asked for her. He hated wasting time with younger girls who didn't know what they were doing.

Annie would do anything a man wanted. All he had to do was pay for it. Tolbert didn't mind paying for the things he wanted. At that moment she was on her knees, working on his big cock with her mouth and her hands. She encircled the base with the finger of one hand, fondled his testicles with the other, while working her mouth up and down wetly on him. Every so often she'd take him so deep in her mouth that she would gag herself, and have to come up for air. But each time she would smile and go right back to work on him.

She had long blond hair, which he wrapped his thick fingers in. She was sucking him wetly when there was a knock on the door.

“Don't answer it,” she said breathlessly.

“It might be important.”

She tightened her fist around his penis.

“This is important.”

“It might be work,” he said. “When I make money, I spend more money on you.”

She opened her fist.

“All right, then,” she said. “Answer it.” She got to her feet and stretched. She was long and lean, with small breasts and slender hips. He preferred that to women with tits like cows.

He walked to the door naked and opened it.

Angela Locksley looked down at his rigid penis, still glistening with Annie's saliva, and said, “I'm not impressed.”

Tolbert looked down at himself and said, “You're a hard woman, Mrs. Locksley.”

“I have work for you,” she said. “Finish up in here and meet me downstairs.”

“Finish up quick?” he asked. “Or take my time?”

“Somewhere in between, Tolbert,” she said. “I may be hard, but I'm not heartless. Let the young lady do her job.”

She looked past him at Annie, who was still stretching. Something in Angela's eyes excited Tolbert. She reached down, ran the tip of her finger along the underside of his penis, then put it to her lips and licked it. With that, she turned and walked down the hall.

Tolbert closed the door and went back to Annie.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

She pouted.

“I wasn't done.”

“On the bed!”

She shrugged, got on the bed on her back, and made herself comfortable. Annie spread her legs, but when he climbed on the bed, he spread them even more and brutally stabbed his cock deep into her.

“Oh, yeah, baby!” she cried. He started to fuck her hard, thinking about the lady in the hall.

“Wow,” Annie said, “somebody sure got you all worked up.”

He slid his hands beneath her and cupped her slender ass. She wrapped her long, slim legs around his waist. He hammered her that way, and she moved with him until she felt him grow taut, and then he cried out, exploding inside her.

“Ooooh, yeaaaah,” he bellowed, and continued to stab at her until she had milked him dry.

*   *   *

She watched him as he got dressed. He was a big man who looked like he had been built out of stone. Carved, she thought, carved out of stone.

“So when the lady calls, you run?” she asked.

“She's got the money,” he said.

“What about her husband?”

“What about him?” He strapped on his gun.

“Do you take his money, too?”

“I take anybody's money,” he said. “I'm like you, Annie.”

“Like me?” She frowned. “How are you like me?”

He smiled and said, “I'm a whore, too.”

He started for the door.

“And the lady?” she asked. “Is she a whore, too?”

“Aren't all women?”

“Have you been with her?”

“No,” he said.

“I had the feeling she wanted to join us.”

“I don't mix business with pleasure,” he told her.

“Then you're not like me,” she said, “because I do.”

TWENTY

Angela Locksley was waiting in a private room on the first floor. The madam, Lotta, worked for her and kept that room for her.

“In there,” Lotta said as Tolbert came down.

Tolbert nodded, went to the door, and entered without knocking.

Angela turned to look at him, a glass of wine in her hand.

“A drink?” she asked.

“Not that stuff.”

“I have whiskey.”

“Sure.”

She turned back to the sideboard, poured him a glass of whiskey, and took it across the room to him.

“Thank you.”

“Do you know who Clint Adams is?” she asked.

“The Gunsmith,” Tolbert said. “What about him?”

“What do you know about him?” She walked across the room. It was well furnished with a plush sofa, two matching armchairs, and several tables.

“He's a legend,” Tolbert said. “Like Hickok.”

“Hickok is dead,” she said.

“The Gunsmith can die, too.”

She turned to look at him.

“Can you do it?” she asked. “Can you kill the Gunsmith?”

“I can.”

“In a fair fight?”

“Do you want it to be a fair fight?”

“I don't care,” she said. “I just want him dead.”

“Well then,” Tolbert said, “I guess I'll assume he's in town?”

“He is,” she said. “He brought that girl back with him.”

“Mary Connelly?”

“Yes.”

“Pretty girl.”

Her eyes flashed as she threw her glass at him. He didn't duck, because she was way off target. At worst, a little wine got on him.

He thought about what Annie had said about Angela Locksley, and about her running her finger along his cock. And what she did with that finger after.

He put down his glass and walked to her.

“If you want him dead, it's gonna cost you.”

“I'll pay,” she said. “I always pay.”

“Yeah, with money,” he said. “But I want you to pay with something else, too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think you know,” he said. He grabbed her hand, the finger she had touched him with, and lifted it to her lips.

“Oh,” she said, her tongue flicking out to touch her own finger.

He released her hand and she touched his chest. With the same finger, she traced a line down over his chest and belly to his belt. She undid his gun belt, dropped it on the nearest chair. Next she loosened the belt of his trousers, unbuttoned them, and drew them down to his ankles, dropping to her knees to do it. When she tugged his shorts down, his semihard cock sprang out at her.

“You're a big man,” she said. “And not too tired?”

“Oh, no,” he said. “Not at all.”

She took his cock in her hand and stroked it until it was fully hard. She ran her nose up and down the length of him, breathing in his scent, then ran her tongue along the same area. Finally, she took him into her mouth and began to suck.

Maybe Annie was right, he thought. Maybe she would join them next time . . .

TWENTY-ONE

Clint entered the doctor's office with the tray.

“I could get used to this,” Doc Mathis said. “Having my meals brought to me by the famous Gunsmith.”

“I'll take Mary's in to her,” Clint said. “How is she?”

“A lot better. Food will help.”

Clint poured a cup of coffee, put it on the tray, and carried it into the other room.

“There you are,” she said from the bed. “I'm starving.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I was . . . occupied.”

He carried the tray to the bed and set it on her lap. He removed the napkin with a flourish, revealing a steaming bowl of beef stew.

“It smells great,” she said. “This from the café?”

“Yes.”

“Good food there,” she said. “That's all I was gonna miss when I left here.”

She tucked into the stew and Clint went back to the other room, where Doc was doing the same.

“Whiskey?” Doc asked.

Clint held up his hand. “I've had more whiskey in the past few days than I've had in a month. I prefer beer.”

“You find out anything interesting?”

“A bartender named Max recognized me,” Clint said.

“I know Max,” Doc said. “He's a good man.”

“He wasn't on the street when they rode Mary out?” Clint asked.

“No, he wasn't,” Doc said, “but like me, there wasn't much he could do about it.”

“What kind of guns have the Locksleys got on their payroll?”

“If you're smart,” Doc said, “you'll look at those two as very separate dangers. Either one of them can use money to send some guns your way. The more money, the better the guns.”

“That's not always the case, Doc,” Clint said, “but I take your point.”

Clint sat.

“So what do we do now?” Doc asked.

“We keep that girl alive,” Clint said. “I think Mrs. Locksley is just crazy enough to have her killed.”

“Well,” Doc said, “they know where she is.”

“Yeah,” Clint said, “and that's a problem.”

“So we've got to move her.”

“Yeah,” Clint said, “but where to? Are there any other people in town who might help?”

“I'll have to think about that,” Doc said. “Everybody pretty much kowtows to the Locksleys.”

“There must be somebody we can put her with who'll keep an eye on her until she can travel.”

“I'll think about it.”

“I had supper with Gina Hopewell tonight.”

“Nice girl,” he said. “Too bad she works for Locksley.”

“She doesn't like him very much.”

“Nobody does.”

“What about her?” Clint asked. “What if I asked her to take Mary in?”

“Why would she want that kind of trouble?” Doc asked.

“Then what about the waitress? Amy?”

“She's a nice woman,” Doc said. “She doesn't need that kind of trouble either.”

“I suppose not. What about a man? The sheriff?”

“No, not him,” Doc said.

“I didn't think so. What about somebody we could hire?”

“Hire?” he asked. “We?”

“Me,” Clint said. “Anybody I could hire? I mean, if the Locksleys can hire somebody, so could I.”

“You want to hire some guns?”

“If I needed guns,” Clint said, “I wouldn't have to hire any. I've got friends I could send for.”

“Then maybe you should do that,” Doc said. “Ask some of your friends to come and help.”

Clint rubbed the back of his neck.

“I got myself into this,” Clint said. “I don't think I've got the right to ask my friends to put their lives on the line for Mary.”

“You're doing it,” Doc said.

“So are you, Doc,” Clint said. “Why?”

Doc shrugged.

“I should've tried to help her before,” he said. “I guess I'll try now. I'll keep giving it some thought. Maybe I can come up with somebody who'll take her in.”

“Gina and Amy,” Clint said, “they're the nicest people I've met in town. So I think I'll ask them if they can think of anybody.”

“Good idea,” Doc said. “Give Mary and me time to finish this stew, and you can go back to the café and talk to Amy.”

“I think I'll do that,” Clint said. He settled back in his chair and watched the older man finish his supper.