Read Online The Dublin Detective by J. R. Roberts - Free Book Online

the chest and shoulders. His handshake was firm.
    â€œI only hope that I have, indeed, helped you, senor ,” Higuera said. “If I have not I would be . . . desolate.” He clutched his chest. Clint had still not decided if all the man’s dramatic gestures were an act or not.
    â€œYou have.”
    â€œMay I ask why the Gunsmith is also searching for this man Dolan?” Higerua asked. “Or is it the other man, McBeth, whom you seek?”
    â€œI’m trying to see to it that Dolan and his gang don’t kill McBeth.”
    â€œAnd this is your business . . . why?” Higuera asked with a shrug.
    â€œFour-to-one odds,” Clint said. “I just don’t like them.”
    â€œAh, but your friend, McBeth . . . he will like them even less, yes?”
    â€œThat is definitely a yes,” Clint said.

TWENTY-ONE
    Clint finished his business in El Paso del Norte fast enough to simply mount up and continue on. He left town and continued to ride south. He’d gone only a few miles when he realized he was being followed. The terrain was rocky, sandy, not much in the way of vegetation, but there were hills and valleys. It was easy to tail someone if you rode in the valleys while your prey rode in the hills, and vice versa.
    It wasn’t so easy when your prey already knew you were following him and waited in one of the valleys for you.
    Clint dismounted and waited. He had an idea who was tracking him, so he didn’t have his gun in his hand when the rider came over the rise and started down. The rider saw Clint, reined his horse in for a moment, then continued on with a resigned slump to his shoulders.
    â€œDid you really think you could follow me without being spotted?” Clint asked.
    â€œI was hopin’,” Ben Weaver said.
    â€œI notice you’re not wearing your badge.”
    â€œI turned it in.”
    â€œIf I tell you to go back, you won’t, right?” Clint asked.
    â€œRight.”
    â€œYou’ll just keep following me.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œI could kill you and leave your body here for the buzzards.”
    â€œBut . . . you wouldn’t do that,” Weaver said a bit hopefully.
    â€œNo,” Clint said. “I wouldn’t.”
    â€œSo . . . can I ride with you?”
    Clint pointed a finger at Weaver.
    â€œIf we run into trouble, you’d better pull your weight, Weaver.”
    â€œI will.”
    â€œI’m not getting killed trying to protect you, understand?”
    â€œI understand.”
    â€œAnd if you get me killed . . .”
    â€œWhat?”
    Clint didn’t have anything to add, so he said, “I’ll come back and haunt you.”
    â€œOkay.”
    Clint mounted up.
    â€œOkay, come on.”
    Â 
    They rode a few miles in silence before Weaver tired to start a conversation.
    â€œSo where are we goin’?”
    Clint thought about remaining quiet, but what the hell. Talking would pass the time.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œBut I thought we were lookin’ for—”
    â€œWe are looking for someone,” Clint said, “but I don’t really know where to look.”
    â€œSo . . . where are we goin’?”
    â€œRight now,” Clint said, his eyes on the ground, “we’re just riding, Ben. As soon as I spot something helpful, I’ll let you know.”
    â€œSomethin’ helpful?” Weaver asked. “Like what?”
    â€œHave you ever tracked?”
    â€œWell, I—”
    â€œNo, wait,” Clint said, “you told me. You’ve never been out of El Paso.”
    â€œWell, I been on posses.”
    â€œSo then you’ve tracked.”
    â€œWell . . .”
    â€œOkay, you were with someone who tracked.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell, I’m looking for a familiar sign,” Clint said, “a hoofprint that I’ve seen before.”
    â€œHow do you recognize a horse’s