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Authors: J. Roberts
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didn’t wanna throw down on Adams.”
“Were you afraid of him?” Tate asked.
“No.”
“Well, neither was I,” Tate said, “but I don’t want Pearl to kick us outta the gang. Now I wish Adams would follow us here.”
“Yeah,” Del said, “if he follows us here, we can kill ’im and we won’t have nothin’ to explain to Pearl.”
“That’s right.”
They rode down Whitfield’s main street, reined in their horses in front of the general store.
“We’re gonna need a packhorse for these supplies,” Tate said. “Go over to the livery and rent one.”
They’d rent the horse for an unspecified period of time, and whoever was next to ride into Whitfield would bring it back.
“Yeah, okay,” Del said.
“And stay outta trouble,” Tate said.
“Hey,” Del said, “you’re the one who wanted to steal the Gunsmith’s horse.”
“And I still want it,” Tate said. “He follows us here, I’m gonna kill him and take that horse.”
“Yeah, okay,” Del said, “we’ll use it as a packhorse.”
“Idiot,” Tate said as Del walked away. “You don’t use an animal like that as a packhorse.”
Shaking his head, Tate went into the general store.
Clint and Alice stopped to read the road sign that said: WHITFIELD, 5 MI.
“They’re probably there already,” Alice said.
“No problem,” Clint said. “If they’re going there, it’s probably for supplies. Once they’re leading a packhorse, they’ll be even easier to trail.”
“So why are we even going to Whitfield?” Alice asked. “Why don’t we just camp here on the road and wait for them?”
“I want to make sure that’s where they went,” Clint said. “We could be sitting here and they’d never come back. Could be they’re supposed to meet Pearl Starr and the rest of the gang somewhere they don’t have to cross the river to get to.”
“A lot more thought goes into this business than I imagined,” Alice said.
“You’re a smart woman,” he said. “You’re well educated.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think I’d have to use my brain so much when I wore a badge.”
“You mean you wanted to wear a badge because you thought the job would be easy?”
“Well, not easy . . . I thought it would be mostly physical.”
Clint looked at her and shook his head.
“You thought you’d have an advantage because you think you’re smarter than everybody else,” Clint said. “On either side of the badge.”
Alice blushed, caught in her arrogance.
“That ego could get you killed, Deputy,” Clint warned.
“I know it,” she said. “I know I was wrong, Clint. That’s why I’m saying this job takes more smarts than I thought it did. But I’m smart enough to know I have a lot to learn, and I think I’m smart enough to learn it.”
“Well, that’s good, Alice,” Clint said. “Lose the ego and you will learn more—a lot more.”
TWENTY-THREE
Del walked the two horses—his saddle mount and the packhorse—back to the general store, found Tate standing out front, smoking a quirley.
“You done?” he asked.
“Yeah, we just got to load.”
“How about a drink first?”
“That’s just what I was thinkin’,” Tate said. “Tie both horses off here and we’ll go across the street to the saloon.”
Tate went back inside to the tell the clerk they’d return for the supplies.
“I’ll have ’em ready, Tate,” the man said.
They knew each other from other trips to Whitfield, although Tate did not remember the clerk’s name.
Outside Tate put his arm around Del’s shoulder and said, “Come on, partner. Let’s get some whiskey.”
“And maybe another girl before we leave?” Del said.
“Why not?” his friend replied.
Clint and Deputy Alice Eads entered the town of Whitfield, but did not ride down the main street. They stopped just inside the city limits, dismounted, and secured their mounts.
“Let’s take a walk,” Clint said. “If they’re here, we should see their horses
“Were you afraid of him?” Tate asked.
“No.”
“Well, neither was I,” Tate said, “but I don’t want Pearl to kick us outta the gang. Now I wish Adams would follow us here.”
“Yeah,” Del said, “if he follows us here, we can kill ’im and we won’t have nothin’ to explain to Pearl.”
“That’s right.”
They rode down Whitfield’s main street, reined in their horses in front of the general store.
“We’re gonna need a packhorse for these supplies,” Tate said. “Go over to the livery and rent one.”
They’d rent the horse for an unspecified period of time, and whoever was next to ride into Whitfield would bring it back.
“Yeah, okay,” Del said.
“And stay outta trouble,” Tate said.
“Hey,” Del said, “you’re the one who wanted to steal the Gunsmith’s horse.”
“And I still want it,” Tate said. “He follows us here, I’m gonna kill him and take that horse.”
“Yeah, okay,” Del said, “we’ll use it as a packhorse.”
“Idiot,” Tate said as Del walked away. “You don’t use an animal like that as a packhorse.”
Shaking his head, Tate went into the general store.
Clint and Alice stopped to read the road sign that said: WHITFIELD, 5 MI.
“They’re probably there already,” Alice said.
“No problem,” Clint said. “If they’re going there, it’s probably for supplies. Once they’re leading a packhorse, they’ll be even easier to trail.”
“So why are we even going to Whitfield?” Alice asked. “Why don’t we just camp here on the road and wait for them?”
“I want to make sure that’s where they went,” Clint said. “We could be sitting here and they’d never come back. Could be they’re supposed to meet Pearl Starr and the rest of the gang somewhere they don’t have to cross the river to get to.”
“A lot more thought goes into this business than I imagined,” Alice said.
“You’re a smart woman,” he said. “You’re well educated.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think I’d have to use my brain so much when I wore a badge.”
“You mean you wanted to wear a badge because you thought the job would be easy?”
“Well, not easy . . . I thought it would be mostly physical.”
Clint looked at her and shook his head.
“You thought you’d have an advantage because you think you’re smarter than everybody else,” Clint said. “On either side of the badge.”
Alice blushed, caught in her arrogance.
“That ego could get you killed, Deputy,” Clint warned.
“I know it,” she said. “I know I was wrong, Clint. That’s why I’m saying this job takes more smarts than I thought it did. But I’m smart enough to know I have a lot to learn, and I think I’m smart enough to learn it.”
“Well, that’s good, Alice,” Clint said. “Lose the ego and you will learn more—a lot more.”
TWENTY-THREE
Del walked the two horses—his saddle mount and the packhorse—back to the general store, found Tate standing out front, smoking a quirley.
“You done?” he asked.
“Yeah, we just got to load.”
“How about a drink first?”
“That’s just what I was thinkin’,” Tate said. “Tie both horses off here and we’ll go across the street to the saloon.”
Tate went back inside to the tell the clerk they’d return for the supplies.
“I’ll have ’em ready, Tate,” the man said.
They knew each other from other trips to Whitfield, although Tate did not remember the clerk’s name.
Outside Tate put his arm around Del’s shoulder and said, “Come on, partner. Let’s get some whiskey.”
“And maybe another girl before we leave?” Del said.
“Why not?” his friend replied.
Clint and Deputy Alice Eads entered the town of Whitfield, but did not ride down the main street. They stopped just inside the city limits, dismounted, and secured their mounts.
“Let’s take a walk,” Clint said. “If they’re here, we should see their horses
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