The Lady Doctor's Alibi by J. Roberts

okay,” Clint said, “he’s not here to talk. He’s here to protect you.”
    “Doctor?” Marietta called from the doorway. “Buenos días, Clint.”
    “Good morning, Marietta.”
    “Coming, Marietta,” Lissa said. She touched Clint’s arm and followed Marietta into the other room. Clint took the opportunity to talk to Boone.
    “Boone, you want to go and get some breakfast?” he asked.
    “The ladies and me went out and ate,” Boone said. “But thanks.”
    “Well, if you want to go home for a few hours—”
    “I got nothin’ goin’ on at home, Clint,” Boone said. “I’ll just stay.”
    “Okay,” Clint said. “Listen, what do you know about a man named Franco?”
    “Franco?” Boone asked, surprised. “How’d you hear about him?”
    “I asked who the murder for hire man was in town and got his name.”
    “Well, yeah, he does murder for hire—or that’s what we hear. We’ve never caught him in the act, which is about the only way we’d be able to get him. Why are you getting’ mixed up with him? You have enough trouble with Rufus Holmes.”
    “Yeah, but I heard that Rufus Holmes is not a killer,” Clint said, “and we’re looking for a killer.”
    “So you pick Franco?”
    “If Lillian Graham goes to Rufus and wants someone killed, who would Rufus go to?”
    Boone paused, then shrugged and said, “Probably Franco. We know they’ve worked together.”
    “Okay,” Clint said, “I better go and talk to the sheriff.”
    “What are you gonna do?”
    “I’m not sure,” Clint said. “I did have plans just to ask more questions, but maybe we should go and find Franco and have a talk.”
    “You think the sheriff is gonna go with you?” Boone asked.
    “I don’t know him that well,” Clint said. “Do you?”
    Boone thought a moment before speaking.
    “The sheriff don’t like to push,” Boone said. “You do. It’ll be interesting.”
    “Would you rather I wait so that Rufus and Franco come here together?”
    “Hey,” Boone said, raising his shotgun, “I got two barrels.”
    Clint liked that Boone didn’t scare.
    “I’ll talk to the sheriff and let you know what happens.”
    “Like I said,” Boone replied. “Interesting.”
    “I’ll say good-bye to the ladies before I leave,” Clint said.
    “By the way,” Boone said, “are you and the lady doctor . . . ?”
    “No,” Clint said. “Why, you interested?”
    “No,” Boone said, “curious. My days with the ladies are over. It’s just me and my shotgun now.”
    “I hope you’re very happy.”
    Boone grinned, rubbed the shotgun’s barrel, and said, “Oh, we are.”
     
    Clint went to the doorway of the other room, watched Lissa and Marietta moving around the beds. Lissa stopped to lean over the little girl, touch her face, and smile.
    “How’s she doing?” Clint asked when Lissa came over to him.
    “She’s doing well,” Lissa said, “and so am I. I saved the leg.”
    “You must be a hell of a doctor,” Clint said. “First my foot, then her leg.”
    “Oh yes,” Lissa said, “you were definitely in danger of losing that foot.”
    “I have to go,” he said. “I’ll be back later. By the way, I think the deputy might be interested in you—if you can woo him away from his shotgun.”
    She smiled and said, “Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

THIRTY-THREE
    Clint went to the sheriff’s office and found the man there, apparently brooding over a cup of coffee.
    “Problems?” he asked.
    “I had to let the kid go.”
    “Wasn’t working out?”
    “The badge went to his head,” Brown said.
    “That happens.”
    “Get yerself a cup.”
    Clint went to the stove, poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat opposite the sheriff.
    “What’s on your mind?” the lawman asked.
    “A man named Franco.”
    “A bad man,” Brown said. “Boone was after him when he was sheriff, and I’ve been after him since I got to wear the star. What’s your interest in him?”
    “His specialty is