Clint nodded to Matt as he entered the gallery.
“How’d it go?” Mighty Matt asked.
“Not good. He’s not going to back off.”
“Did you really think he would?”
“No, but it was worth a try. Where’s Nadine?”
“In her office?”
“And Sly?”
“Back room.”
“Okay,” Clint said. “The impression I got is that Bates isn’t ready to mount any kind of move, but that could change tomorrow.”
“Got it.”
Clint walked to the office, where Nadine was sitting at her desk, studying some papers.
“What have you got there?”
“I’m looking at sketches that were sent to me by a new artist.”
“Another one?”
“I’m always looking.” She took off her glasses and looked up at him. “What happened?”
“We had a talk, then he had his big black show me to the door.”
“So he’s not backing off.”
“Not any time soon.”
They heard the front door open.
“Customers,” she said. She stood, then stopped. “Or . . .”
“Probably customers,” Clint said, “or we would’ve heard from Matt by now. Bates isn’t ready to make a move.”
“Do you think we need more help?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he said, “but I don’t know if we have time for that. Come on, let’s have a look at your customers, and then I’ll go in the back and see Sly.”
“Okay.”
They walked out to the gallery, where Matt was watching a middle-aged couple stroll around the gallery, examining the works of art on display.
“Know them?” Clint asked.
“Yes.”
“All right, then,” Clint said. “I’ll be in the back for a while.”
As he turned and left the main gallery, she walked over to the couple and greeted them with a big smile. Matt remained by the front door.
~*~
Emory Bates had just gotten dressed and come back down from his bedroom when he found Silas waiting in the foyer for him.
“Yes?”
“I got word from Conroy,” Silas said. “He’ll be here tonight.”
“With help?”
“Yes, suh.”
“Where’s Maggio.”
“Eatin’ again, in the kitchen.”
Bates shook his head.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll be in my office. I have a lot of paperwork. Let me know when supper is ready.”
“Yes, suh.”
“Or when Conroy arrives.”
“Yes, suh.”
“And make sure Maggio doesn’t eat us out of house and home.”
“Yes, suh.”
~*~
Sly turned when Clint entered the back room.
“What are you doing?” Clint asked.
“My job,” Sly said. “I’m watchin’ the back door.”
“Jesus,” Clint said, “you’re actually watching it?”
“What else is there to do?”
“There’s plenty of art work around here.” Clint waved his arms, indicating the paintings that were scattered about.
Sly was leaning against the large table where Clint and Nadine had uncrated paintings, and then had sex.
“Why are you back?” Sly asked. “It’s too soon for one of us to get some shut eye.”
Clint told Sly what he had told Matt and Nadine about his talk with Emory Bates.
“Okay, then,” Sly said, “we’re gonna have some action.”
“I don’t get it,” Clint said.
“Get what?”
“I’ve seen men go to war for land, for gold mines, even for women, but never for something like this. It’s a small gallery, not even a money making business. What’s the point?”
“The point is,” Sly said, “he wants it. I don’t know the guy, Clint, but I know his reputation. He gets what he wants.”
“No matter what?”
“Well,” Sly said, “so far I’ve never heard of him bein’ involved in a shooting, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been behind some.”
“Some things don’t change,” Clint said. “Here or in the West, the rich men get other men to do their dirty work.”
“We’re doin’ the lady’s dirty work,” Sly pointed out, “ain’t we?”
“It’s different,” Clint said.
“Is it?”
“Yes,” Clint said, “we’re not being paid.”
Sly made an exaggerated surprised look and said, “Whaaaat the hell you say?”
“Shut up,” Clint said. “You want to go out and get something to eat? Or some coffee?”
“Sure,” Sly said. “You good here?”
“Yup. I’ve sat watch many times.”
“You want somethin’?” Sly said, pushing away from the table.
“Just coffee.”
“I’ll check with Matt and Miss Jensen,” Sly said. “It won’t take me long.”
“You know what?” Clint said. “Bring me an apple.”
“Gotcha.”
As Sly left the room Clint looked at the back door, walked over to try it, found it locked, then returned to the table and leaned against it.