Free Deadly Election (9781101619223) by J. R. Roberts

store, Heck got down from the coach first, looked around, then assisted Carla down. She was followed by Clint.
    “You sure you’re okay?” Clint asked the driver.
    “I’ll be fine, sir.”
    “You want to come inside?”
    “No, sir,” the driver said. “I’ll wait out here.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    In the store they took a moment to check Carla over again. She had no bruises or scrapes that they could see, and she insisted she was fine.
    “Let’s get those suits.”
    Clint’s were ready. When it came to Heck’s new clothes, Carla decided his didn’t have to be as impeccably tailored as Clint’s, so they bought him a couple of suits off the rack. He tried them on, and approved them.
    “Wrap them up,” Carla told the clerk.
    “You’ve got good taste, Miss Carla,” Heck said.
    “It’s just Carla,” she said, “and thanks.”
    “And since you’re dressin’ me, ya might as well call me Heck.”
    “Heck,” she said, “I didn’t thank you for saving my life back at the house. Thank you.”
    “It weren’t nothin’.”
    “How did you know those men were there?” she asked.
    “I saw the sun reflectin’ off the metal of their guns.”
    “That’s remarkable,” she said.
    The clerk came with their packages and they went out to the coach, where the driver—true to his word—was waiting.
    “Back to the house to change?” Clint asked Carla.
    “No,” she said, “you’re dressed well enough for lunch, but we’ll have to go back so you both can change for supper.”
    “Okay,” Clint said.
    “You’re the boss,” Heck said.
    “Tell your friend that,” Carla said.
    Clint ignored the remark as he helped her up into the coach.
    “I’m gonna ride with the driver this time,” Heck said.
    “Riding shotgun,” Clint said. “Good idea.”
    Heck kept a wary eye out for trouble as they drove to the location of the lunch.
    “What’s this group supposed to be?”
    “It’s the Austin Women’s League,” Carla said.
    “Really?”
    “You’ll get a lot of contributions from them if they like you.”
    “Them or their husbands?”
    “Same thing,” she said, “but yes, for the most part the money would come from their husbands.” She patted his arm. “Just be your charming self.”
    “I’ll try.”
    “I don’t know how you’ll be able to do it,” she said. “To tell you the truth, I’m still shaking. I’ve never been shot at before.”
    “Well, it was me they were shooting at, but I see your point,” he said. “Maybe…”
    “Maybe what?”
    “Well, maybe somebody else should be doing this job,” Clint suggested.
    “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head, “this is my job, and I’m going to do it.”
    “Well, let’s go then.”
    Inside they found Will Gryder waiting for them.
    “It’s about time.”
    “We had some excitement,” Carla said.
    “Tell me about it later.”
    “Somebody tried to kill Clint.”
    “What?”
    “A couple of shots,” Clint said.
    “Where?”
    “In front of the house.”
    “They might have done it, too, but Marshal Thomas saved us.”
    “That’s great,” Gryder said, “but these women are waiting to hear from Clint.”
    “Hear from me?”
    “Sure,” Gryder said, “you have to give a speech.”
    “A speech?” Clint said. “You never told me I had to get up in front of a bunch of women and talk.”
    “That’s what campaigning is all about, Clint,” Gryder said. “Speeches.”
    “What am I supposed to say?”
    “You’ll figure it out,” Gryder said. “Come on. Carla, stay with the marshal.”
    “Deputy,” Heck said as Gryder rushed Clint away.
    “Let’s get a good spot,” Heck said to Carla. “This I gotta see.”

TWENTY-SEVEN
    Everyone was surprised, especially Clint. He had the women eating out of the palm of his hand almost from the moment he started speaking. Then the women clamored to ask questions. Gryder finally had to call a halt to the proceedings. It was time for them to have lunch.
    Clint found himself