Further Adventures of James Butler Hickok (9781101601853) by J. R. Roberts Page A

young boy.”
    â€œJesus, is this about some kid?” Rafe asked.
    â€œThis is about justice,” Hickok said.
    â€œDo we get to move away from our horses?” Rafe asked.
    â€œSpread out all you want, Rafe,” Hickok said. “From the looks on the faces of your brothers, you’ve already lost.”
    Rafe smiled, then laughed.
    â€œYou ain’t gonna get me with that, Hickok,” Rafe said. “I don’t gotta look at my brothers to know they’re with me. You know why? Because we’re brothers.”
    â€œDo it, then,” Hickok said.
    Rafe moved away from his horse, under the watchful eye of Clint. As he did, so did his brothers, even Orville, who didn’t seem happy.
    The brothers moved out into the center of the street, which had emptied out quickly.
    Hickok and Clint also moved, and before long, all seven men were in the middle of the street. The five Jenkins Brothers had spread out, putting more than an arm’s length between each one.
    Hickok and Clint stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder. It didn’t matter who took who, because they were both going to fire their guns until they were empty.
    * * * 
    Across the street a door opened, and the sheriff stepped out to watch the proceedings. Maybe he intended to arrest the survivors, but Clint knew that Wild Bill Hickok had no intention of being arrested for what was about to happen. When the shooting was over, he knew the sheriff had better choose his course of action very carefully.
    * * * 
    Rafe Jenkins made the first move. If he was the fastest of the brothers, then Clint knew the Jenkins boys were in trouble.
    But he wasn’t the fastest. For as Rafe’s hand went for his gun, Clint saw the young one, George, go for his—and he was fast. It was too bad he had decided to follow his brother’s lead.
    He was fast, but not fast enough.
    Clint drew and shot George first. The boy had cleared leather, but that was it.
    Hickok drew both his Colts and began to fire. He put two shots into Rafe Jenkins before the man could draw his gun.
    After that, Hickok and Clint’s shots melded together, and the rest of the Jenkins boys danced in the streets like marionettes. Then they fell to the ground as if their strings had been cut.
    Quickly, Clint and Hickok reloaded, but there was no need.
    * * * 
    The sheriff stepped into the street and walked over to the five fallen brothers. He checked each body carefully. Then he walked over to Clint and Hickok, who had holstered their guns.
    â€œThey’re all dead,” the lawman said.
    â€œThey called it,” Hickok said.
    The sheriff nodded, walked over to the horses, where he found a bank bag tied to one of them. He opened it, took out a stack of money with a bank band on it.
    â€œThey all probably have some in their pockets, too,” Hickok said. “We’ll need all of it, Sheriff. We’re takin’ it back to Cheyenne.”
    â€œIs that a fact?”
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œAnd how do I know you boys ain’t just gonna take it?” the lawman asked. “You aren’t wearin’ no badges. Am I just supposed to let you ride out with this money?”
    â€œYou are,” Hickok said.
    â€œWhy?” the sheriff asked.
    â€œBecause you can’t stop us, Sheriff.”
    The sheriff and Hickok glared at each other.
    â€œSheriff,” Clint said, “we rode a long way to catch these men and take that money back where it belongs. It’s got blood on it, and I’ve got no use for that kind of money.”
    The sheriff looked at both of them, then turned away, saying, “I better fetch the undertaker . . .”

THIRTY-FOUR
    D ENVER, C OLORADO T HE PRESENT
    Mark Silvester looked up from his notes as he realized Clint Adams had stopped speaking.
    â€œSo he let you take the money?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd you brought it back to Cheyenne?”
    â€œOf course,”