Across the street Clint watched as Earl Sinclair came walking confidently toward him. Instead of rising to meet him he decided to sit back in his chair and wait.
Clint remembered years ago that Dick Sinclair gave him no alternative, no choice but to kill him, or be killed. Now, he could see the same look on the face of the son, Earl. He looked around, up, down and across the street, but it looked to him like Sinclair was alone.
Sinclair stopped in front of Clint, remaining in the street rather than stepping up on the boardwalk.
“You called me out, Adams?” the younger man asked.
“Not exactly, Sinclair,” Clint said. “I wanted to give you a chance to walk away—”
“Walk Away?” Sinclair asked, cutting Clint off. “There’s no chance of that. My family’s been waitin’ for the right time to get you for killing my father, and this is it.”
“You really think so?”
“I happen to think this is exactly the right time,” Sinclair said. “Right now, Adams.” He pointed out to the middle of the street. “Right here.”
Clint studied the young man, saw the hate and determination in his eyes. He didn’t think he had the right words to talk Sinclair out of this, but he was determined to try.
“You’re being used here, Sinclair,” Clint said. “By Stoll, and his crew, by the mayor ... ” Clint pointed across the street at City Hall.
“Nobody’s usin’ me, Adams,” Sinclair said. “I’m here because it’s time, plain and simple.”
“I really don’t want to kill another member of the Sinclair family, Earl,” Clint said. “I don’t want your whole family coming after me. I was sorry to have to kill your father, but he gave me no choice.”
“And I’m not givin’ you a choice, either,” Sinclair said. “In the street, now.”
Sinclair walked out to the center of the street. Clint looked around. Obviously, word had gotten around. There were very few people out and about and the ones who were there were lining the street, watching.
And as he looked up at the window of the mayor’s office he saw Mayor Cates and Gator Jenkins, also watching.
Clint stood up and looked out at Earl Sinclair. From this moment on his entire attention had to be focused on that man, because at any moment he could go for his gun.
He stepped down off the boardwalk, determined now to make a statement to Albert Stoll, Mayor Cates, and all the disciples. He was the Gunsmith, and he wasn’t afraid of or intimidated by men with guns, or by men who thought they were gods.
~*~
Dooley got to the compound and found Erskine outside the barracks.
“Sinclair’s goin’ after the Gunsmith right now!”
“How did that happen?” Erskine demanded.
“The Gunsmith came to the saloon and called him out.”
“What are the other men doin’?”
“Well ... we let Sinclair go on his own, but then everybody started talkin’ about it, and we figured he shouldn’t go alone, so they all went out to find him, and they sent me to tell you.”
“Damn it!” Erskine said. “Come on, we’re gonna have to tell Stoll!”
Together, they ran toward Stoll’s residence.
~*~
“Let me lay this out for you, Mr. Mayor,” Gator said, as they watched. “If Adams kills Sinclair, we’re gonna explain to the town how you’re involved with Stoll. You brought him here for some political purpose.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“We just have to plant the seed,” Gator said, “and then Stoll and his Kingdom will crumble.” Gator hoped.
“And tell me something, Jenkins,” Mayor Cates asked. “What will you do if Sinclair guns down the Gunsmith?”
“Well then,” Gator said, “I’ll leave your office, and just keep on goin’.” Gator didn’t see what other options he would have.
~*~
Tully went to Father Paul and told him how he was feeling.
“Odd,” the priest said, “I’ve been feelin’ the same way. We have to do somethin’.”
“Do you have a gun?” Tully asked.
“No,” Father Paul said, “I won’t be able to do that.”
“Well,” Tully said, “let’s find out what’s going on. And if there’s shooting, you’ll just have to keep your head down.
~*~
With Cahill in the lead, the disciples turned onto the main street and saw ahead of them one man standing in the center. Then they saw another man step into the street and start moving toward the middle.
“We’re too late,” Grey said.
“Maybe not,” Cahill said. “We can still—”
“Still what?” Miller asked, cutting him off. “Get involved? Look, if Sinclair kills Adams, we still get paid.”
“And if Adams kills Sinclair?” Cahill asked.
“Well,” Miller said, “then we can gun him down. There’s still seven of us. And I, for one, really wanna see this.”
“Yeah,” Grey said, “so do I. Don’t you, Cahill?”
Cahill looked at his comrades, then admitted, “Well, yeah, I kinda do.”