Kentucky Showdown (11 page)

Clint returned to Ben Canby's place, walked Eclipse into the barn, where he found the groom, Frank Dunlap.

“I'll take him, Mr. Adams.”

“How's Whirlwind?”

“I'm getting him ready to travel to the track,” Frank said.

“What about Alicia?”

“Ain't seen her for a while.”

“Okay,” Clint said, handing Eclipse's reins to Frank. “Thanks.”

He walked to the house, found Canby sitting in the living room, going over some papers. He looked up when Clint entered, removed the wire-framed glasses he was wearing. Clint could smell supper cooking.

“What's going on?” Canby asked.

Clint sat down in a chair and described his day to his friend.

“You're takin' it on yourself to stop this robbery?” Canby said. “Why not call in federal help?”

“It would take them too long to get here,” Clint said.

“So you're gonna use six Cherokee Indians to prevent a robbery?”

“I'm going to try.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Should I take Whirlwind to the race?”

“The race is going to happen,” Clint said. “If you want to win it, I suggest you be there.”

“Well, okay, then,” Canby said.

“Supper's ready!” Elena called to them from the dining room.

“Let's eat,” Canby said, “and then I can check on Whirlwind.”

“Frank said he's getting him ready to travel,” Clint said as they walked to the table.

“Is he? Then he's more sure than I am that we're gonna run.”

Elena brought a platter of steaks out and said, “Everybody's more sure about it than you are,” then went back to the kitchen.

“Quiet, woman!” Canby called as she went back to the kitchen.

Her laughter came back to them from behind the closed door.

* * *

After supper they both went out to the barn to watch Frank with Whirlwind.

“Where's Alicia?” Clint asked.

“Haven't seen her.”

“Is she gone?”

“I don't think so. She still lives here, as far as I know.”

Frank inspected the three-year-old's legs.

“What about Fontaine?” Canby asked. “Where do you think he is?”

“I've decided he's gone into hiding.”

“From you?”

“I suppose.”

“Until after the job?”

“Probably,” Clint said. “Or until Blacker can kill me.”

“You think he's gonna try before tomorrow?” Canby said.

“Before the race,” Clint said.

“And who's gonna watch your back?”

“John Sun Horse.”

“Sun Horse? Can you trust him?”

“I have to,” Clint said. “I mean, I'd prefer somebody I know better, but from what I've seen, he's competent.”

“Listen,” Canby said, “I can use a gun. How about if I—”

“You've got a job, Ben,” Clint said. “Get this horse to the starting line. Leave the rest to me, okay?”

“Are you gonna have time to make a bet?”

Clint slapped his friend on the back and said, “I'll make time.”

* * *

Outside, as darkness fell, Blacker moved through it. He found a place to hide. From there he could see both the house and the barn. He knew Clint and Canby were inside the barn. All he needed was one clean shot at Adams to get him out of the way. He took his gun out, checked his loads, and then holstered it again.

He was ready.

All he needed now was for the Gunsmith to come out of the barn.

“I'll go back to the house,” Clint said, “let you work with your horse.”

“I'll be along soon,” Canby said.

“If I don't see you, I'll be getting an early start tomor-row morning,” Clint told him. “I've got to get to that track early.”

“So will we,” Canby said. “We'll ride together.”

“That suits me,” Clint said.

He walked to the door of the barn, then stopped.

“What is it?” Canby asked.

“Listen.”

Canby came up next to him, and they both stood there listening.

“I don't hear anything.”

“I know,” Clint said. “No crickets, or birds. Nothing.”

“Yeah,” Canby said. “That's odd.”

“Something's out there,” Clint said.

“Wolf?” Canby asked. “Big cat?”

“Something,” Clint said, “or somebody.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I'm going out the back,” Clint said. “You stay in here, keep an eye on your horse.”

“You think somebody's after Whirlwind?” Canby asked.

“Him,” Clint said, “or me.”

* * *

Blacker kept his eyes glued to the front of the barn. They must have been in there getting the horse ready for travel. Adams had to come out sometime. He wasn't doing anybody any good in there. Canby and his groom could handle the horse.

Where was he?

* * *

Clint went out the back door of the barn, worked his way around to one side. There were some horses in the corral. If there was a wolf or a cat out there, they'd smell it. They were too calm. To him, that meant only one thing.

There was a man out there, in the dark.

Waiting.

He looked around for a likely place for a man to hide. There were a few, but only hiding in the copse of trees beyond the corral would silence the insects.

He moved back to the rear of the barn, then worked his way around the corral until he was behind those trees. Despite a bright moon, it was too dark to read sign in the ground, but if there was a man in those trees, he would leave his horse farther down the trail.

Clint scouted a few hundred yards, almost quit when suddenly he heard something. Sounded like a horse nickering. He stood still, listened, heard it again, and followed it. He found a good-sized steeldust tied to a tree. He went through the saddlebags, found an extra shirt, a gun, bullets, and a letter sent care of General Delivery, Louisville. It was addressed to a man named Lucifer Blacker. No wonder he only went by his last name.

Now Clint had two choices. Wait for Blacker to get tired and come back to his horse, or go into those trees after him.

It all depended on the patience a man like Blacker had. Also, how determined he was to get rid of Clint before race day.

Clint decided to go in after him, just in case Blacker got itchy and shot the wrong man—such as Canby.

He headed back to the barn area.

* * *

“What do you think he's doing?” the groom, Frank, asked Canby.

“I don't know,” Canby said. “It's still too quiet out there.”

“Well, we're all done in here,” Frank said. “When are we gonna leave?”

“Might be a man with a gun out there, Frank,” Canby said. “If you want to go out, go on ahead.”

Frank looked at the door nervously, then said, “Naw, I guess I'll wait.”

“Good,” Canby said, “then we'll just wait together.”

* * *

Blacker saw some shadows just inside the door of the barn. It looked like two men, maybe getting ready to come out. He drew his gun, cradled it in both hands for a moment.

“Come on out, Gunsmith,” he said to himself in low tones. “Come on out and get what's waiting for you.”

“Maybe,” Clint said from behind him, “you should step out of there and get what's coming to you, Mr. Blacker.”

Blacker froze.

“Adams?”

“The very one.”

“You alone?”

“It's just you and me, Blacker,” Clint said. “But don't think about spinning around and using that gun. I'd just as soon kill you as look at you. That's how I treat men who are waiting to bushwhack me.”

“Now look,” Blacker said, “let's talk about this. You have no idea how much money we're gonna get tomorrow.”

“I think I have some idea.”

“Well, there's always room to cut another man in,” Blacker said. “Especially a man with your, uh, special talents.”

“I don't think your boss Fontaine would agree with you,” Clint said.

“I'm in charge of this operation,” Blacker said.

“Well, that's too bad.”

“Whataya mean?”

“What are your men going to do tomorrow when you don't show up?”

Blacker laughed low.

“They all know their jobs,” Blacker said. “Whatever happens here, they'll pull that job tomorrow.”

“You should have waited 'til tomorrow so you could be there with them.”

“Well, Adams, to tell you the truth, I didn't wanna see you there, so I thought I'd get rid of you tonight.”

“Seeing as how the other three men you sent—not to mention Jesse—didn't fare too well.”

“You're right,” Blacker said. “That's when I realized I'd have to do it myself. So whataya say you and me get outta these trees and face off, huh? Man to man?”

“Man to man?” Clint repeated.

“That's right.”

“Who are you going to get to represent you?”

* * *

The one who grew impatient was Ben Canby.

“Okay,” he said to Frank, “I'm headin' for the house. You with me?”

“Uh, I think I'll wait awhile longer.”

“I'm thinkin' if anythin' was gonna happen, it woulda happened by now,” Canby said.

“Boss . . .”

Canby stepped out and yelled, “Clint? You out there?”

* * *

Beyond Blacker, Clint could see the front of the barn. He saw Canby when he stepped out.

“Damn it!” Clint said.

Blacker was facing Canby with his gun already out. He had no chance.

“Ben! Down!” Clint yelled.

Blacker turned. He was fast, like a snake, and he almost got a shot off while Clint was yelling to Canby. But Clint was too fast. He fired once, and the bullet struck Blacker and spun him around so fast his gun went flying from his hand.

“Damn it!” Clint said again.

* * *

“Whataya mad at me for?” Canby asked later.

They were both standing, looking down at Blacker's body. Frank was standing farther behind them.

“You stepped out and I had to kill him,” Clint said. “I wanted him alive.”

“What for?”

“So he could tell me where Fontaine is.”

“Well, if Fontaine's hiding, and Blacker's dead, doesn't that mean the robbery won't go off?”

“No,” Clint said. “The plan is in play. According to Blacker, everybody knows their job. The robbery is going to happen. I just have to hope I have enough men to stop it.”

“What about the Jockey Club?” Canby asked. “Maybe we can convince them together to increase the security.”

“It's too late,” Clint said. “The gates are going to open tomorrow and I have to be there.”

“And so do I.”

“All right,” Clint said. “We'd better turn in, then.”

“What about him?”

“What about him?” Clint echoed.

“What are we gonna do with him?”

“Leave him there for now,” Clint said. “Cover him up. In the morning you can have somebody take him to town.”

“And do what?”

“Dump him in the sheriff's lap,” Clint said. “Maybe that'll shake him up some.”

Canby told Frank to get a blanket out of the barn and put it over the body, then started back to the house with Clint.

“Tomorrow's gonna be one helluva day,” he said.

He got no argument.

In the morning they loaded Whirlwind onto a carrier and set out for Louisville, Churchill Downs, and the Kentucky Derby.

Clint thought about riding into the track with Canby and the horse, but he had told Sun Horse and the others he'd meet them out front.

As the gate opened to admit Canby and the horse, Clint said, “I'll see you later.”

“I hope so,” Canby said. “And don't forget to get your bet in before you get killed.”

“I'll make a note of it.”

He rode around to the front of the track, where Sun Horse and the others were waiting. He didn't have time to put Eclipse in a livery, so he just dismounted and left him there. The horse wouldn't move, and he wouldn't let anybody move him.

“You ready?” Clint asked them.

“We are ready,” Sun Horse said.

“Hey!”

Clint turned to see who had shouted. He saw a security guard coming his way.

“What are all these Indians doin' here?” the man demanded.

“Talk to your boss,” Clint said.

“Huh?” the man asked dimly. He was about as smart as a donkey, Clint could see.

“Captain Butler?” Clint said. “He's your boss, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, tell him you talked to Clint Adams,” Clint said. “He'll know what it's about.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Clint said as the man started away.

“Yeah?”

“Tell him Blacker's dead, and Fontaine's missing.”

“Huh?”

“Just tell him.”

“I will,” the man said. “I'll find out what's goin' on.”

As the guard walked away, Clint said to the Cherokees, “Take your positions, and be ready.”

Clint doubted the Cherokees would be able to pick out the robbers, but he knew that when trouble started, they would come running.

“Come on, Sun Horse.”

They went to the front gate and paid their admission to get in. The crowd had already begun to file in. There would be seven races before the Derby, and people would continue to come in until then.

“Mr. Gunsmith?” Sun Horse said.

“Yeah?”

“Okay if I make some bets?”

“Bets? Well, yeah, I don't see why not.”

Sun Horse nodded.

“But you don't know anything about these horses, do you?”

“What is to know?” Sun Horse asked. “I only need to look at them.”

“You're going to pick a winner just by looking at the horses?”

“Yes.”

“This I've got to see.”

* * *

By the time the fifth race came around, Sun Horse had picked four winners.

“This is amazing,” Clint said as Sun Horse stuffed a wad of money into his pocket. “How do you do that?”

“You can tell if a horse can run by looking at him,” Sun Horse said.

“Yes, but what if they all look like they can run?” Clint asked.

“One looks like the winner.”

“Only one?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” Clint said. “I'm going to bet with you, this race. Let's go and look at the horses.”

* * *

Clint cashed in on the fifth and sixth races with Sun Horse, but the prices were low. The favorite won each race.

“How about a long shot?” Clint asked him.

“I can't control the price,” Sun Horse said, “I can only pick the winner.”

“Will you be able to do that in the Derby?”

“Yes.”

“You're that sure?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” Clint said, “what about this next race . . .”