The Pinkerton Job by J. R. Roberts Page B

heard the shots. Delilah pulled her big tit from the whore’s mouth and looked around nervously.
    â€œWhat the hell—” Sandusky said.
    In minutes the shooting stopped, and there was a banging on the door.
    â€œWhat the hell—” Sandusky said again, grabbing his gun.
    *   *   *
    Both Clint and Baca cleanly outdrew all nine men. They fired quickly, Clint fanning his gun.
    Later many men would say they were there when the Gunsmith and Elfego Baca gunned down twenty men without ever moving from where they stood. That would, of course, be a slight exaggeration, and not as legendary a story as Baca’s jacal tale.
    Between them they had twelve bullets for nine men, and they made them all count.
    All nine men were on the floor dead in seconds.
    â€œMadre de Dios,”
someone said.
    They quickly ejected their empty shells and reloaded, then walked among the bodies to be sure they were dead. They were.
    â€œThere should be a lawman here soon,” Baca said.
    â€œYou think so?” Clint asked.
    â€œWe had better have a drink,
amigo
,” Baca said. He looked at the bartender.
“Dos cervezas
.
”
    â€œ
Sí, señor
,” the bartender said, acting quickly.
    Surprisingly, no one had left the cantina. They were still quiet, though, staring down at the bodies of the dead men.
    â€œWell,” Clint said, “we’ve got plenty of witnesses here.”
    â€œI am sure we will have no problems,” Marshal Baca said.
    â€œSomething tells me you know the local lawman.”
    Baca smiled.
    â€œI did stop in to see him when I first arrived,” the younger man admitted.
    â€œWhen was that?” Clint asked. “And why?”
    â€œI arrived several days ago,” Baca said. “I am looking for a man named Steagall.”
    â€œWhat’d he do?”
    â€œMurder,” Baca said. “I was trying to remain unknown, waiting for him to walk in.”
    â€œSorry to ruin it for you,” Clint said. “You may have been able to get him today.”
    â€œQuien sabe,”
Baca said. “We will see. There is still time. Why are you here?”
    â€œI’m riding with Charlie Siringo and Tom Horn,” Clint said.
    â€œI have heard of them, but not met them,” Baca said.
    â€œWe’re trailing a man named Harlan Sandusky and his gang.”
    â€œFor what offense?”
    â€œRustling, probably murder.”
    â€œHow many do you seek?”
    â€œTwo men and a woman.”
    Baca rubbed his nose.
    â€œWhen did they arrive?”
    â€œNo way of telling, but maybe the past couple of days. We’re hoping he’s still here.”
    Baca drank his beer and set the mug down heavily.
    â€œClint, I believe you are in luck!”
    *   *   *
    Sandusky swung the door open and pointed his gun at the man in the hall.
    â€œHey, take it easy!” Anderson said.
    â€œWhat’s goin’ on?”
    â€œWe gotta get outta here. There’s been a shootout in the cantina.”
    â€œSiringo?”
    â€œNo,” Anderson said. “The Gunsmith, and Elfego Baca. And Baca’s wearin’ a badge.”
    Sandusky frowned. “They may not be here for us, but we better get out of here anyway.”
    He turned and looked at Delilah. She was still sniffing around the whore, getting dangerously close to the girl’s pussy.
    â€œDelilah!” he snapped. “Get yer clothes on or I’ll leave ya here!”
    â€œAll right!” Delilah gave one of the girl’s nipples a quick lick and then reached for her clothes.

THIRTY-FOUR
    â€œHere?” Clint asked.
    â€œIn the back,” Baca said. “They went back with one of the whores.”
    â€œAll of them?”
    â€œAll three,” Baca said. “The woman is not attractive, but there is something . . . earthy about her. And I just happen to like older women.”
    â€œShow me where they