Free Trail to Shasta (9781101622049) by J. R. Roberts Page A

to get through the night, and get out of town.
    Just one night.
    Was that too much to ask?
    * * * 
    â€œOkay,” Denny said in the Red Garter, “we know what room he’s in. Now all we gotta do is wait until he’s asleep, and then go in and get him.”
    â€œWe gonna go in the back?” Fred asked.
    â€œNo,” Denny said, “we’ll go right in the front.”
    â€œWhat about the clerk?” Ames asked.
    â€œHe won’t do anythin’,” Denny said. “He won’t have time. We’ll go right up the stairs and get it done.”
    â€œWhat about the sheriff?” Fred asked.
    â€œWhat about him?” Denny asked.
    â€œWhat do we tell him?” Ames asked. “He’s gonna show up, you know.”
    â€œWe’ll deal with him when the time comes,” Denny said. “Once the Gunsmith is dead, what’s he gonna do anyway?”
    â€œI—I dunno,” Ames said.
    â€œJust relax,” Denny said. “Let me do the thinkin’ and the talkin’.”
    â€œSo when do we go?” Fred asked.
    â€œWhen I say so,” Denny said. “Fred, why don’t you get us another beer?”
    â€œHuh? Oh yeah, sure.”
    After Fred went to the bar, Denny asked, “You think he’ll pull the trigger?”
    â€œHuh? Oh, sure, why not? Oh, you mean because of what he said? Naw, he’s ready. Don’t worry.”
    â€œI’m not worried,” Denny said, “but if he doesn’t do his part, I’ll kill him right after we kill the Gunsmith.”
    Ames looked over at Fred, returning with three beers, and said, “That’s okay with me.”

TWENTY-FIVE
    Clint was alert for the sounds of the floorboards in the hall. There was no access to his room by the window, so he didn’t have to worry about that. If they made it through the night, he’d still have to worry about stepping out onto the street in the morning. If someone wanted to make a try for him, that would be the time. They’d either face him in the street, or try to ambush him.
    He heard the boards creak, but he had also heard the door to Bridget and Bride’s room open. Then there was a knock at his door.
    He knew it was her, but still he took the gun with him when he answered it. As he opened the door, she quickly stepped in, the scent of her tickling his nostrils as she came. He closed the door and turned to face her. She was wearing a cotton nightgown that clung to her, making it clear there was nothing underneath. Her nipples were poking into the fabric.
    â€œBride’s asleep,” she said. “Fast asleep.”
    â€œReally?” he asked. “Even I heard your door creak open.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” she said. “She’s asleep.”
    â€œBridget,” he said, “this may not be a good idea.”
    She loosened something on her nightgown, and it fell to the floor. She was naked, and he could see that the freckles spread over her pert breasts. Her rust-colored nipples were hard. The hair between her legs was an even deeper red than the hair on her head. And the scent of her was . . . womanly.
    â€œDo you want me to go?”
    He drank in the sight of her and said, “No.”
    She smiled, and approached him. She ran her hand down his arm, until it was touching his gun.
    â€œDo we need that?”
    â€œI hope not.”
    She took the gun from him, walked to the bedpost, and slid it into the holster. Her naked butt was stunning to watch as she walked. There was not an ounce of fat on her body.
    She turned, beckoned to him, and said, “Come to bed, Clint.”
    He started for her, but she stopped him.
    â€œWait!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNot with all those clothes on.”
    Hurriedly, he began to remove them.
    * * * 
    â€œThat’s his window,” Denny said, pointing.
    â€œHis light is still burning,” Fred pointed out.
    â€œI