have seen that.” Clint pulled on a pair of trousers. “I’ll go and have Julius prepare a bath for you.”
“What about you?” she asked, posing so that her breasts were thrust out at him. “Want to join me?”
“Like I said,” he replied, “you’ll have to be quick…”
Clint used the pitcher and basin method he was accustomed to and cleaned himself up. He knew if he’d gotten into the bathtub with Carla, they would have been late.
He was dressed when she came back into the room from her bath, covered only by a towel.
“Wait, wait,” he said, “don’t take that towel off ’til I’m gone, or we’ll never get out of this room.”
“Oops,” she said, dropping the towel to the floor, “too late.”
Clint fled…
Downstairs he found that Julius had already admitted Gryder to the house. Heck was seated at the dining room table with a cup of coffee Mrs. Bigelow had given him.
“Coffee?” Heck asked. “Mrs. Bigelow’s got a big pot on.”
“I’ll have one,” Clint said, and at that moment thecook came out of the kitchen and handed him a cup. “Thank you, Mrs. Bigelow.”
“Yes, sir.”
She gave Gryder a pointed look, as if daring him to ask for a cup. He did not. She returned to the kitchen.
“Ready to go?” Gryder asked.
“I got a bag upstairs, and Carla’s just about ready.”
At that moment Julius came down the stairs with Clint’s bag. He wondered how the butler had gotten it from the bedroom without disturbing Carla.
“Thank you, Julius.”
“Sir.”
Clint couldn’t imagine anyone having a more efficient butler or cook.
“What’s taking her so long?” Gryder asked.
“Come on, Will,” Clint said. “She’s a woman.”
“And we still need to catch a train.”
“Isn’t it our train?” Clint asked. “It won’t leave ’til we get there, right?”
“I still have a schedule.”
“Well, your schedule is not Carla’s schedule,” Clint said. “Take it easy.”
“Yeah, well…easy for you to say.”
“What’s got you so keyed up?”
“Oh, it’s that old man.”
“Turner?”
Gryder nodded.
“That funny old man in the bright-colored clothes?” Heck asked.
“That funny old man is also a brilliant politician,” Gryder said. “And he wasn’t kidding about knowing all the dirty tricks.”
“So you’re worried he’ll try something?” Clint asked.
“No,” Gryder said, “I know he’ll try something. I’m just worried about when.”
“On this trip?” Heck asked, standing and bringing his cup into the entry foyer.
“Maybe,” Gryder said. “We just have to keep our eyes open.”
“What am I lookin’ for?” Heck asked. “You think the congressman would have somebody take a shot at Clint?”
“No, no,” Gryder said, “you’re thinking about this all wrong. When I talk about dirty tricks, it’s got nothing to do with guns.”
“Oh,” Heck said, “then we’re not talkin’ about the same dirty.”
“No, we’re not,” Gryder said. “Turner might do something to try and smear Clint’s name, but he won’t try to have him killed.”
“How do you smear somebody with a reputation like Clint’s?” Heck asked, and then added, “Or for that matter, mine. People already think we’re killers.”
“Believe me,” Gryder said, “that fact only makes Clint romantic to these voters. It also makes him the type of man who will do what he has to do.”
“So he’s a threat to Congressman Turner,” Heck said.
“Oh yeah.”
“Even though he’s ahead in the polls,” Clint said.
“That doesn’t matter,” Gryder said. “What matters is who’s ahead on election day.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
When they reached the train yard, Clint was impressed. The special caboose reminded him of the train his friend Jim West sometimes used. The inside was broken up into two areas, one of which was for sleeping. The other area, which they were relaxing in, was a sitting room with a sofa and chairs.
“How do we eat?” Carla
“What about you?” she asked, posing so that her breasts were thrust out at him. “Want to join me?”
“Like I said,” he replied, “you’ll have to be quick…”
Clint used the pitcher and basin method he was accustomed to and cleaned himself up. He knew if he’d gotten into the bathtub with Carla, they would have been late.
He was dressed when she came back into the room from her bath, covered only by a towel.
“Wait, wait,” he said, “don’t take that towel off ’til I’m gone, or we’ll never get out of this room.”
“Oops,” she said, dropping the towel to the floor, “too late.”
Clint fled…
Downstairs he found that Julius had already admitted Gryder to the house. Heck was seated at the dining room table with a cup of coffee Mrs. Bigelow had given him.
“Coffee?” Heck asked. “Mrs. Bigelow’s got a big pot on.”
“I’ll have one,” Clint said, and at that moment thecook came out of the kitchen and handed him a cup. “Thank you, Mrs. Bigelow.”
“Yes, sir.”
She gave Gryder a pointed look, as if daring him to ask for a cup. He did not. She returned to the kitchen.
“Ready to go?” Gryder asked.
“I got a bag upstairs, and Carla’s just about ready.”
At that moment Julius came down the stairs with Clint’s bag. He wondered how the butler had gotten it from the bedroom without disturbing Carla.
“Thank you, Julius.”
“Sir.”
Clint couldn’t imagine anyone having a more efficient butler or cook.
“What’s taking her so long?” Gryder asked.
“Come on, Will,” Clint said. “She’s a woman.”
“And we still need to catch a train.”
“Isn’t it our train?” Clint asked. “It won’t leave ’til we get there, right?”
“I still have a schedule.”
“Well, your schedule is not Carla’s schedule,” Clint said. “Take it easy.”
“Yeah, well…easy for you to say.”
“What’s got you so keyed up?”
“Oh, it’s that old man.”
“Turner?”
Gryder nodded.
“That funny old man in the bright-colored clothes?” Heck asked.
“That funny old man is also a brilliant politician,” Gryder said. “And he wasn’t kidding about knowing all the dirty tricks.”
“So you’re worried he’ll try something?” Clint asked.
“No,” Gryder said, “I know he’ll try something. I’m just worried about when.”
“On this trip?” Heck asked, standing and bringing his cup into the entry foyer.
“Maybe,” Gryder said. “We just have to keep our eyes open.”
“What am I lookin’ for?” Heck asked. “You think the congressman would have somebody take a shot at Clint?”
“No, no,” Gryder said, “you’re thinking about this all wrong. When I talk about dirty tricks, it’s got nothing to do with guns.”
“Oh,” Heck said, “then we’re not talkin’ about the same dirty.”
“No, we’re not,” Gryder said. “Turner might do something to try and smear Clint’s name, but he won’t try to have him killed.”
“How do you smear somebody with a reputation like Clint’s?” Heck asked, and then added, “Or for that matter, mine. People already think we’re killers.”
“Believe me,” Gryder said, “that fact only makes Clint romantic to these voters. It also makes him the type of man who will do what he has to do.”
“So he’s a threat to Congressman Turner,” Heck said.
“Oh yeah.”
“Even though he’s ahead in the polls,” Clint said.
“That doesn’t matter,” Gryder said. “What matters is who’s ahead on election day.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
When they reached the train yard, Clint was impressed. The special caboose reminded him of the train his friend Jim West sometimes used. The inside was broken up into two areas, one of which was for sleeping. The other area, which they were relaxing in, was a sitting room with a sofa and chairs.
“How do we eat?” Carla
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