boardinghouse.
 â¢Â â¢Â â¢Â
When they got to the sheriffâs office, he said to the deputy, âGo make your rounds, Jody.â
âIt ainât my turn, Sheriââ
âJust do it!â
âYes, sir.â The deputy grabbed his hat and headed for the door.
âAnd see to my horse!â
âYessir!â
Ingram picked up the coffeepot, found it empty.
âDamn it! I tolâ them both that part of their job is keepinâ this full.â
He poured some water in the pot. Dumped in a couple of handfuls of coffee, and put it on the stove.
âWhat about your other deputy?â Clint asked. âThe one who was out with the tracker? They find anything?â
âMy tracker says your men were pretty good at hidinâ their tracks. But heâs pretty sure at least one of them went to Kirby.â
âAnd the other?â
âHe says he probably stayed here.â
âThe one who took a room at Mrs. Nunallyâs.â
âBut now youâre sayinâ theyâre both here,â Ingram said.
âWell, somebody took my horse.â
âYeah, right.â
âIâll need your tracker.â
âWhat for?â
âTo track them from the docâs office.â
âThe street is filled with wagon tracks.â
âIs your man any good?â
âPlenty good,â Ingram said, âbut I donât know if anybody is that good.â
âWell,â Clint said, âwhy donât we find out.â
âOkay,â Ingram said, âIâll get ahold of him today.â
âWhen?â
âWhen my deputy comes back.â
âNot good enough,â Clint said. âTell me who he is and where I can find him.â
âHis nameâs Cain,â Ingram said. âHeâs a half-breed. Heâs usually at the Wagon Wheel. Thatâs a small saloon at the south end of town. Nobody ever goes there.â
âThen why will I find him there?â
âBecause he doesnât like people,â Ingram said. âHe wonât like you.â
âIâll tell him you sent me.â
Ingram laughed.
âHe doesnât like me either.â
âWho does he like?â
âIâve never been able to figure that out.â
âThen why does he work for you?â
âI pay him.â
âSo Iâll pay him.â
âYou best lead off with that fact.â
Clint nodded, headed for the door just as the smell of coffee filled the room.
âOh,â he said, âhow will I know him?â
âYouâll know him,â Ingram said. âYou ainât seen anybody like him before.â
TWENTY-TWO
Clint found the Wagon Wheel Saloon at the end of town. It was in a building that looked like it was a good stiff breeze away from falling down. As he approached the batwings, he saw that one was hanging sideways on one hinge, ready to fall. He entered carefully, not wanting to be the one who knocked it off.
Inside he saw two people, a bartender and a customer. Even if there had been twenty more, though, he would have known that this customer was the man he was looking for.
Tallâbeyond tall, probably close to seven feetârangy, wearing a long black duster and a black hat with a feather in it. He was bent over a glass of whiskey, with a bottle close at hand. There was also a Winchester on the bar, which Clint assumed belonged to the big man.
The bartender was a broad, beefy man with hairy arms and dark circles under his eyes. He watched as Clint approached the bar.
âYouâre in the wrong place,â the bartender said.
âIâm looking for a beer.â
âLike I said,â the barman answered, âwrong place. There are other saloons.â
Clint looked around and said, âI like this one.â
âWhy?â
âBecause this is where Iâm supposed to find Cain.â
âWho says?â
âSheriff
Learning to Kill: Stories