Way with a Gun by J. R. Roberts

started to get up, but Clint said, “Stay seated, Sheriff. Don’t spook him.”
    Taylor sat back down as Winston started over to their table. When he reached them, he ignored the sheriff and Ransom and stared at Clint.
    â€œWinston,” Clint said. “I want to apologize for last night. I had too much to drink—”
    â€œAin’t got to apologize,” the big man said. “You whipped me. My shins still hurt, and my jaw aches.” He rubbed it. “Doc thinks it broke.” He was talking with his jaw clenched. “I just think it’s sore.”
    â€œWell, can you have a beer?” Clint asked.
    â€œI heard you was lookin’ for guns,” the big man said, ignoring the question. “Gonna stand against Ned Pine and his gang.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œThis all ya got?” he asked, indicating the other two men at the table.
    â€œAnd the two who just left,” Clint said. “Five in all.”
    â€œWell,” Winston said, “I ain’t got no feelings about Pine one way or the other, but I’d be proud to stand with ya, Mr. Adams.”
    â€œWhy would you want to do that, Winston?”
    â€œYa whipped me,” Winston said. “No man’s ever done that before. And I didn’t know who you was last night. Now I do, and it’s an honor to be whipped by ya. So if you’ll have me, I’d like ta stand with ya.”
    â€œIt’s up to the sheriff,” Clint said. “He’s in charge.”
    Winston looked at the sheriff.
    â€œHey, it’s fine with me,” Taylor said. “We can use all the guns we can find.”
    â€œOkay then,” Clint said. “Do you want a beer?”
    â€œNaw,” the big man said, “I’m gonna go home and rest some.”
    â€œOkay, be back here in the morning at first light,” Clint said. “Right out front.”
    â€œYes, sir,” Winston said. “I’ll be here.”
    All three men watched him turn and walk out, and then the sheriff and Ransom stared at Clint.
    â€œWell, if that don’t beat all,” Ransom said. “Ya whip him and now he wants to be your friend.”
    â€œIt’s a funny world. Ain’t it?” Taylor asked.
    â€œWell, we’re six now,” Clint said. “The odds are looking better all the time.”

THIRTY-ONE
    Clint, Sheriff Taylor, and Joe Ransom had another beer together, and then the sheriff said he had to get home while he still had a wife.
    â€œWhat about you?” Clint asked Ransom. “Got a wife waiting for you?”
    â€œNaw,” the younger man said, “nobody.”
    â€œHow about getting us two more beers?”
    â€œToo old and tired to go to the bar yourself?” Ransom asked.
    â€œYou got that right,” Clint said, closing his eyes.
    â€œI’ll get ’em.”
    Ransom went to the bar, and the two men who had their heads hanging in their beers made their move.
    Â 
Jerry Corbett and his silent partner, Carl Bankhead, had ridden into town that afternoon. It hadn’t taken them long to spot Clint Adams walking the streets with a man wearing a badge. A couple of questions and they found out that Andy Taylor was sheriff of Cedar City. Neither of them had ever heard of him. Corbett had been expecting to run into the Gunsmith somewhere along the way, but this was a stroke of luck.
    They watched the two men long enough to figure out that they preferred this little saloon to the larger ones in town. They’d also heard the talk around town about what had happened the night before when Clint Adams was in one of the bigger saloons.
    â€œHe’ll want to stay out of trouble,” Corbett told Bankhead.
    â€œSo what do we do?”
    â€œWe’re gonna wait for him in his favorite little spot, and wait for him to make a fatal mistake.”
    Bankhead agreed. He was Corbett’s “silent” partner because nobody knew