When word got around about the four men being killed, nobody admitted to knowing anything about it, but according to the story that was circulating, the Gunsmith had killed them himself, with no help. Apparently, he was still deadly, even without a gun in his hand.
Clint sat comfortably in his cell in his new, dry clothes. His second meal of the day was also brought in to him, and then again at supper, he was brought a steak.
“Keeping me away from the general population, boss?” he asked Rock.
“If I had my way, you’d be right in there with them,” Rock said.
“Aw, you don’t mean that, Rock.”
“Shut up and eat your steak,” Rock said. “You’re gonna have a visitor tonight.”
“A visitor? Where?”
“Right here,” Rock said, “so finish up and be ready to receive a guest.”
* * *
Clint finished his meal and Rock collected the tray, making sure he had the fork. He sat back on his bunk to wait. Eventually, he heard two sets of footsteps coming down the hall. When they appeared in front of his cell, he saw Rock and Amanda.
“Hello,” she said.
“Stay there,” Rock said to Clint.
The guard unlocked the door, let Amanda in, and then closed and locked the door again.
“Call me when you’re done,” he said to Amanda, who nodded.
“When you’re done?” Clint asked. “Not five minutes?”
“We’ve got more time.”
“For what?”
She shrugged.
“Whatever you like?”
“Let’s talk first.”
“Can I sit?”
He slid over on his bunk and she sat next to him. He’d smelled her when she entered. She smelled like sex. Not like she’d just had sex, but like sex itself. It wasn’t good for her to be where she was, in a facility with so many men. Not the way she smelled.
“I want to get out,” she said.
“Why tell me?”
“Because of who you are,” she said. “You’re gonna get out. All I want is for you to take me with you.”
“You want to break out?”
“I don’t know how you’re gonna get yourself out,” she said. “Break out, talk your way out, legally . . . I don’t know. Whatever.”
“You have a lot of faith in me.”
“I’m not even sure you didn’t get yourself tossed in here on purpose for some reason.”
“Uh, no.”
“Okay,” she said with a shrug.
“What do you have to offer?” he asked. “I mean, that would make me want to help you?”
She stood up and, in one swift moment, dropped her dress. She’d had a bath recently, was clean. Her skin was pale, her nipples pink, her breasts small and firm.
“Amanda, that’s not what I meant.”
“I could bring you one of the other girls, if you want,” she said. “One is older than me, bigger, more experienced, the other very slight, if you like your girls that way. Or you could have two of us at one time.”
“Put your dress back on,” he said. “I was talking about other, uh, things you might offer.”
“Oh.” She bent down to grab her dress and pull it back on. “Sorry.” She sat back down next to him.
“Don’t be. You’re . . . very lovely.”
“I don’t know what else I could offer you,” she said. “Except . . .”
“Except what?”
“Well . . . Harlan Banks?”