Kentucky Showdown (12 page)

The winner of the seventh race paid fifteen dollars. It was a good price, and Clint did well. He pocketed the money and said to Sun Horse, “Okay, the Derby's next. Let's go over to the betting windows.”

“I have not looked at the horses yet.”

“I'm not worried about the winner,” Clint said. “I want to be around the windows when the robbery happens.”

With no cooperation from Captain Butler in Security, Clint had no idea where all the money went. He felt his only chance to thwart the robbery was to be somewhere the money was—like the betting windows.

He and Sun Horse had just arrived at the windows when Clint saw Captain Butler, a few of his uniformed men, and Sheriff Hackett coming their way.

“Get ready,” Clint said.

“I am ready.”

“Don't fire unless I do.”

Sun Horse nodded.

“All right, Adams,” Butler said. “Just stand there. Sheriff, arrest him.”

“For what?” Clint asked.

“Trespassin',” Butler said. “Him and all his Indians.”

“John Sun Horse and I paid our way in,” Clint said. “And the other Cherokee are on the outside. Nobody has broken the law.”

Butler glared at Hackett.

“He's right,” Hackett said.

“I don't care if he's right,” Butler said. “I want them out of here.”

“Adams—” Hackett said.

“Don't try it, Hackett,” Clint said. “Look, I know you and Captain Butler here are in on the robbery.”

“What robbery?” one of the men asked. He was young, and looked smarter than the others.

“Shut up!” Butler said.

“Fontaine is among the missing,” Clint said, “and Blacker's dead.”

“Dead?” Hackett asked. “You killed him?”

“I did. His body should be sitting in front of your office. I killed him when he came out to the Canby place to kill me.”

“You heard him,” Butler said, “he killed a man. Arrest him.”

Clint looked around as a crowd gathered to watch them. They were taking the attention away from the Kentucky Derby horses, who were coming out onto the track. He also looked to see if he could pick out anybody suspicious, anyone who might be paying special attention to the windows. And then suddenly, a door opened and two security guards came out wheeling what looked like a table on wheels. And on top of that table were bags of money.

“Where are they going?” Clint demanded, pointing.

“They're takin' the money to the vault,” Butler said. “What's it to you?”

“The vault?” Sun Horse said. “That is where the robbery will happen?”

“What robbery?” the same young guard asked. “Is there gonna be a robbery?”

“No!” Butler said.

“Yes,” Clint said. “But it won't happen until after the Derby. When the betting is all closed and the money has all been taken in.”

Butler had four guards with him, but only the young one seemed concerned. Was it possible that the robbers were guards, and were already inside the track? That was Fontaine's plan? If so, then the Cherokee in the outside weren't going to be much help if shooting erupted anytime soon.

Clint was hoping he had time to send Sun Horse out to get them.

“Son,” Clint said to the young guard, “I believe the captain, these other men, and also the sheriff are all in on a plan to rob this track after or during the Derby.”

“What?” the young man said.

“He's crazy!” Butler said.

Hackett was licking his lips nervously. The other guards were looking toward their boss for a signal.

“Look at your colleagues,” Clint said. “They've got their hands on their guns and they're ready to go.”

The young guard looked around.

“This isn't—” Hackett started, but stopped short.

“Isn't what, Sheriff?” Clint asked, sensing there was no time left. This was going to be up to him and Sun Horse. “Isn't the way it was supposed to happen?”

Hackett looked at Butler. He said, “Don't—” but it was too late.

Butler yelled, “Take 'em,” and went for his gun. The guard followed.

Sun Horse brought his rifle around and fired. Clint drew and fired twice. The young guard pulled out his billy club and brought it down on the arm of one of the other guards, knocking his gun to the floor.

Hackett was down, bleeding from a wound in his arm. Butler was dead, as were two of the guards. The last guard was down on one knee, holding a broken arm. The young guard had his gun out and was pointing it at the sheriff.

“I hope I did the right thing,” he said to Clint.

“Don't worry,” Clint said to him, “you did.”

The people around them had hit the ground when the shooting started, but they were quickly getting up and rushing to the windows to get their bets in.

* * *

“They're off!”

Whirlwind went right to the front.

“He will win,” Sun Horse said.

“Are you sure?”

Sun Horse nodded.

The other Cherokee were still outside. The guards had been taken away by other guards who had not been in on the plan. The young guard had taken control, and had taken the sheriff into custody. The race went off without a hitch. Wherever Fontaine was, his plan had failed, but he was free to come up with more plans.

For now.

Whirlwind went around the track, dogged every step of the way by Sunday Song. As they came into the stretch, the little colt started to pull away from the larger horse. From behind, Easy Going suddenly started making a move. He was closing the ground between himself and Whirlwind, but by the time they got to the wire, Whirlwind was still a full length in front.

The winner!

“If you had told me that earlier,” Clint said to Sun Horse, “I would have bet more.”

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BLOOD TRAIL

381
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novel in the exciting GUNSMITH series from Jove

Coming in September!