Clint was waiting in the saloon when Sheriff Hackett arrived.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“You don’t know?”
“I just got here, Adams.”
“You got some dead men upstairs,” Clint said. “And a dead woman.”
“Woman?”
“Jesse,” the bartender said.
“You know what happened?” the lawman asked the barkeep.
“Three men went after him when he went upstairs with Jesse,” the bartender said. “That’s all I know.”
Hackett looked up toward the second floor, then back at Clint.
“Don’t go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Hackett nodded, went upstairs to have a look.
“Let me have another beer,” Clint said to the bartender. “I spilled the other one.”
* * *
Clint was working on the beer when the sheriff came down. At the same moment his two deputies came through the batwings. Clint saw them in the mirror.
The sheriff walked up to him.
“You killed three men and a woman, Adams,” Hackett said. “I’ll need your gun.”
“I killed three men,” Clint said. “They killed the woman. And I’m not giving you my gun, Sheriff.”
“You defying the law, Adams?”
“I’m defying you,” Clint said.
“Why do you want to do this the hard way?”
“There isn’t any other way to do it,” Clint said. “You’re in Fontaine’s pocket. Did you think I didn’t know that?”
Hackett wet his lips.
“Don’t risk your young deputies on this move, Hackett,” Clint said. “Go back to Fontaine, tell him this didn’t work, and you tried to do your job.”
Hackett wet his lips again.
“Sheriff?” one of the deputies said.
“Stand down,” Hackett said.
“But—” the other started.
“I said stand down!”
The two deputies relaxed.
“Get out!” Hackett said. “Go back to the office.”
The two young men backed their way to the door, then went out.
Hackett looked around. There were a few men in the saloon, watching the action. Then he looked at the bartender.
“Give me a beer.”
The bartender did.
“You should leave town,” Hackett said.
“Who else is in on this, Sheriff?”
“Why risk your life for somebody else’s money?” the lawman asked.
“I’m not leaving, Sheriff,” Clint said. “Tell Fontaine that. Tell him next time to send somebody better. Are any of those men up there Blacker?”
“No.”
“Then tell him to send his best.”
“I ain’t said I work for him,” Hackett reminded Clint.
“You don’t have to,” Clint said. He finished his beer, put his mug down. “Don’t be around when they come after me again, Sheriff.”
“You’d shoot a lawman?” Hackett said.
“No,” Clint said, “but I’d shoot you.”
* * *
Outside, Clint tensed, waited for another attack, but apparently it wasn’t coming. Somebody had expected the three men to get the job done, and had not set up a backup plan.
Somebody was going to be very disappointed.
* * *
“What’s going on, Sheriff?” the bartender asked.
“Never mind.”
“What’s he talkin’ about, you workin’ for Fontaine?” the man asked.
“Shut up!” Hackett said. “It’s none of your business.”
“Okay, then,” the bartender said, “what about the bodies upstairs?”
“I’ll have them removed.”
Hackett drained his beer, slammed the mug down, and then went out the batwings. He didn’t see Adams anywhere, and stepped into the street. He didn’t relish going back to Fontaine and telling him what had happened.