The Pinkerton Job by J. R. Roberts Page A

her.
    Sandusky pressed the head of his penis against the whore’s pussy and then shoved. The woman gasped, but the cry was muffled when Delilah pressed her mouth to the whore’s lips and stuck her tongue in her mouth . . .
    *   *   *
    Baca moved across the room to stand next to Clint Adams. He was twenty-three years old and looked younger, but he commanded attention. He was best known for the “Miracle of the Jacal,” where he stood off a host of gunmen from inside a small building which was eventually decimated by gunfire—and came out without a scratch. And that was before he ever started wearing a badge.
    â€œNice to see you,” Clint said.
    â€œLater you can tell me what you are doing here,” Baca said, “other than looking for trouble.”
    â€œYou know me,” Clint said, “I never go looking for trouble.”
    They turned to face the nine men across the room from them.
    â€œSeñores,”
Rodrigo Fuentes said, “it is our honor to be the men who kill
Señores
Clint Adams and Elfego Baca.”
    â€œJesus Christ,” Clint muttered to Baca, “is he thanking us?”
    â€œMy people are nothin’ if not polite,
señor
,” Baca said. “Unlike most gringos I have met.”
    *   *   *
    Siringo and Horn came out of another saloon and ran smack into three men who were about to go in.
    â€œWell, well,” one of the men said, “look who’s here. What a coincidence.”
    â€œExcuse me—” Siringo started before he realized they were looking at the three Monroe brothers.
    â€œHello, Horn,” Josh Monroe said, “remember me and my brothers, Dal and Ed?”
    â€œI remember,” Horn said. “Now get out of the way.”
    â€œNot so fast,” Josh said. “We got unfinished business.”
    Siringo was busy wondering how the Monroe brothers had caught up with them. They were fairly certain they had not been tailed by anyone, yet here they were. A coincidence? He hated those as much as Clint did.
    â€œLook,” Horn said, “we’re kinda busy now. Why don’t you see me tomorrow?”
    â€œTomorrow?” Josh asked. “Out here on the street?”
    â€œSure,” Horn said, “you’d much rather get killed in daylight, wouldn’t you?”
    â€œAnd where’s your friend, the Gunsmith?” Josh asked. “You sure you can handle the three of us without him to back your play?”
    â€œI don’t think we’ll have a problem,” Horn said. “Now excuse us.”
    Horn and Siringo walked around the three men and crossed the street to the other side.
    â€œYou just agreed that we,” Siringo said, stressing the “we,” “are gonna meet them in the street tomorrow.”
    â€œSo what?” Horn asked. “We can handle them, even without Clint.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œPositive,” Horn said. “None if those brothers are gunhands.”
    â€œAnd we got the sheriff watchin’ us close to make sure we don’t kill anybody in his town,” Siringo pointed out.
    â€œI didn’t promise,” Horn said. “You can stand aside if you like. I think I can take ’em.”
    â€œYeah, well, I can’t afford to have you killed by three idiot brothers until after we find Sandusky,” Siringo said, “so I think I’ll just tag along.”
    â€œSuit yourself,” Horn said. “Let’s hit another saloon.”
    â€œLet’s see if we can find that other deputy,” Siringo said, “Walt.”

THIRTY-THREE
    Clint and Baca stood fast in front of the bar, watching. Neither of them knew these men, but they knew who the leader was, so they were going to have to keep an eye on him. When he moved, everybody would move.
    Rodrigo Fuentes went for his gun.
    *   *   *
    Sandusky was wearing the whore out when he