Under a Turquoise Sky by J. R. Roberts Page A

holstered the weapon.
    Chance had a bandana pressed to his chin.
    â€œWho’s gonna question him?” he asked Clint.
    â€œI will,” Clint said. “You’re bleeding too much.”
    â€œYou told me I wasn’t bleeding that bad!”
    â€œI lied. I guess you might be younger and quicker, but you bruise easily. You better take care of it.”
    Clint looked at the man seated on the ground.
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    The man did not reply.
    â€œYou want the other heel shot off?” Clint asked. He touched his gun. “Maybe this time I’ll actually hit your ankle.”
    â€œNo,” the man said, putting his hands out to ward off a bullet. “My name’s Edwards, Aaron Edwards.”
    â€œAnd what are you doing following us?”
    Clint could see Edwards trying to decide what to say. He decided to help him by drawing his gun and cocking the hammer back.
    â€œOkay, okay,” Edwards said. “It wasn’t my idea, it was Carl’s.”
    â€œCarl who?”
    â€œBreckens.”
    Clint looked at Chance who, still holding the bandana to his wound, shook his head. From behind them they could hear Markstein, who had finally maneuvered his mount and the packhorse over to them.
    â€œWe don’t know him,” Clint said. “Who is he?”
    â€œHe’s…just a guy I ride with.”
    â€œAnd why is he having you follow us?”
    â€œBecause he went ahead to Beale Springs to wait.”
    â€œWait for us?”
    Edwards nodded.
    â€œIs he alone?”
    â€œNo, he has two other men with him,” Edwards said. “If you want their names, you’ll have to gimme a minute to think.”
    â€œThat’s not necessary,” Clint said. “Who or what are they after?”
    Edwards used his chin to point and said, “Him.”
    Clint and Chance turned and looked at Markstein, who was still mounted.
    â€œMe? Why me?”
    â€œHe wants your mine.”
    â€œAnd he’s willing to kill to get it?” Clint asked.
    â€œYeah—well, not him, so much. The guy who hired us is.”
    â€œYou were hired to kill me?” Markstein asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBy who?” Clint asked. “Exactly who?”
    â€œI dunno.”
    â€œEdwards—”
    â€œI really don’t,” the man said. “Carl does all the thinkin’ for us.”
    â€œAnd all the negotiating,” Chance said.
    â€œRight.”
    â€œSo you have no idea who hired you?”
    â€œNo,” Edwards said. “I was just goin’ along with Carl, who said we’d get paid a lot of money.”
    â€œWhy the other two men?” Clint asked.
    â€œOnce Carl realized we were gonna have to deal with you and him,” Edwards said, indicating Chance, “he figured we needed some help.”
    Clint turned to look at Chance and Markstein.
    â€œAny questions?” he asked them.
    â€œNot for him,” Markstein said, “but I have a few for you.”
    â€œNot in front of him,” Clint said. “They’ll have to wait until we get on the trail again. Chance, how long would it take this fella to walk to Beale Springs.”
    â€œWith only one heel on his boot? He’d be lucky to get there tomorrow mornin’.”
    â€œWhat?” Edwards said. “Walk? I can’t walk—”
    â€œWould you rather be tied up out here?” Clint asked.
    â€œWell, no—”
    â€œOr dead?” Chance asked.
    â€œHell, no!”
    â€œThen you’ll walk,” Clint said. He looked at Chance. “You up to watching this jasper while I retrieve his horse and yours?”
    â€œSure, why not?” He looked at his bandana. “I think the bleeding stopped. Ain’t so bad.”
    â€œGood.”
    Clint mounted up and caught both horses. Once Chance was mounted, he gave him the reins of Edwards’s horse while he grabbed the pack animal again.
    â€œYa