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ear. Of course, there was always the possibility that the warden already knew about it. Perhaps he was also part of it. Clint couldn’t know that without speaking to one of the women, but so far—after a week in Yuma Prison—he still hadn’t been able to do that.
    In fact, after a week, he’d accomplished very little.
    * * *
    Danny dropped his pants, bent Amanda over the bed, and entered her from behind. Ace continued to paw her while Danny fucked her. She didn’t mind Danny so much. Even erect, he had a small penis that she could accommodate with no problem. When Ace took her from behind, she felt like she was being torn up. It seemed like today she was just going to have to put up with a few bruises from the big guy, and not the usual abuse.
    Danny grunted and groaned and emptied into her, then withdrew. Hopefully, they were done with her. But when she stood up and turned, she saw that Ace’s cock was hard again.
    â€œOn your back, baby,” he said, stroking himself. “Daddy’s got somethin’ for ya.”
    She obeyed, got down on her back, and opened her legs for him. As he drove his massive erection into her, she closed her eyes and tried to take herself somewhere else . . .
    * * *
    Amanda had heard that the Gunsmith was in Yuma. She had also been hearing talk about some of the prisoners wanting to kill him. She wondered how effective he would be as a killer without his gun. If they tried to kill him, and he managed to survive, maybe he was somebody she’d be able to use while he was in Yuma.
    She had to think of a way to meet him, get to talk to him, maybe get to know him a little, and win him over to her side. With somebody like the Gunsmith on her side, maybe she wouldn’t have to put up with the indignities heaped upon her by these guards anymore.

TWENTY-TWO
    P RESCOTT, A RIZONA
    E ARLIER
    Clint and Hannah found Ben at the house, waiting for them.
    â€œHey,” he said when they walked in, “I was lookin’ for you two.”
    â€œI was looking for you,” Clint said, “ran into your mother along the way. She offered to bring me here to see if you were here.”
    â€œI went to the café, Ma,” he said. “You left the lights burning when you locked the door.”
    â€œI realized it later, dear,” she said. “I went back and doused them.”
    â€œWhy were you looking for me?” Clint asked.
    â€œI found somebody you can talk to about Harlan Banks,” Ben said.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œA desk clerk,” he said. “He’s a friend of mine. Banks stayed at his father’s hotel, where he works.”
    â€œWell, let’s go and talk to him,” Clint said. “Maybe he can save me the bother of having to go to this meeting tonight.”
    Ben looked at his mother.
    â€œGo ahead,” she said. “I have to get myself washed up. When you’re done, you can both come back here. I’ll have a pot of coffee on.”
    â€œSounds good to me,” Clint said. “Lead the way, Ben.”
    * * *
    Ben took Clint to Kellogg’s hotel, found his friend Larry still behind the desk.
    â€œIs your Dad around, Larry?” Ben asked.
    â€œNaw, not tonight.” Larry was staring at Clint with eyes as wide as saucers.
    â€œLarry, this is my friend Clint Adams,” Ben said. “Clint, this is Larry Kellogg.”
    â€œHello, Larry.”
    â€œMuh—Muh—Mr. Adams.”
    â€œRelax, Larry,” Clint said. “There’s no need to be nervous. Understand?”
    â€œYuh-yuh-yes.”
    â€œGood,” Clint said. “Ben tells me you know something about Harlan Banks.”
    â€œUm . . .” Larry said.
    â€œCome on, Larry,” Ben said. “Tell him what you told me.”
    â€œUh, well, Mr. Banks did have a room here, but then he disappeared, and a page was torn out of our register.”
    â€œWho tore it