Free The Legend of El Duque by J. R. Roberts Page B

livery.
    â€œHave a seat,
caballeros
,” he told them as they entered his office, “and start talking. I do not like having men killed in my town.”
    Clint looked at Mano and nodded. The younger man started talking, explaining that they had just ridden into town, that Clint went to the hotel while Mano went to the stable with the horses, where two men tried to rob him.
    â€œAnd you killed them.”
    â€œSí,”
Mano said, “I had no choice.”
    â€œAnd are you a
pistolero, señor
?”
    â€œI am not,” Mano said. “In fact, those were the first men I ever killed.”
    â€œAnd you?” the sheriff asked.
    â€œI was inside the livery, in the back,” Clint said. “I saw the whole thing.”
    â€œIt happened the way he said?”
    â€œJust the way he said,” Clint said. “I heard them asking about money.”
    â€œWell . . .”
    â€œDid you know those men, Sheriff?” Clint asked.
    â€œNo,” the lawman said, “I never saw them before today.”
    â€œSo they’re not citizens,” Clint said.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAnd it’s our word against . . . well, nobody’s,” Clint finished.
    The lawman took a deep breath, then took their guns out of his belt, and set them on the desk.
    â€œTake your weapons.”
    They picked them up and holstered them.
    â€œWhen will you be leaving town?” he asked.
    â€œTomorrow morning,” Clint said, “and no later.”
    â€œThat suits me,” he said. “Do not disappoint me.”
    Clint nodded and headed for the door. Mano followed him.
    â€œWhere are you headed,
señores
?” the sheriff asked.
    Clint looked at him and said, “That’s not part of the deal, Sheriff.”
    Clint and Mano walked back to the hotel, went into their room.
    â€œWell,” Clint said, “now they know who I am, and where we are.”
    â€œThey know we are coming,” Mano said. “Didn’t they know that anyway?”
    â€œYeah, I suppose they did,” Clint said. “Look, we’ve got to get something to eat, and then come right back here. No more trouble.”
    â€œI agree,” Mano said, “no more trouble.”
    â€œAll right, then,” Clint said. “Let’s go.”
    * * *
    Montero was on his horse, heading back to Rancho Sandoval. He couldn’t tell Don Pablo that the Gunsmith was coming, because he wasn’t supposed to know that. He could tell Antonia, though. See what she would do with that information.
    The Gunsmith was coming to Rancho Sandoval to buy El Duque.
    One legend was coming to buy another. How could he stop that?

TWENTY-SIX
    Clint and Mano came out of the hotel in the morning, and walked to the livery. The sheriff was waiting there.
    â€œSeeing us off, Sheriff?” Clint asked.
    â€œJust making sure,
señor
,” the man said, “and I am only doing my job.”
    â€œYes, you are,” Clint said, “and very well, too.” Clint was referring to his handling of the shooting incident.
    They entered the barn, saddled their horses themselves, and walked them out.
    â€œSeñor,”
the sheriff said, “I hope on the way back, you will take another route.”
    â€œWe will, Sheriff,” Clint said. “I guarantee it.”
    â€œGracias, señor.”
    Clint touched the brim of his hat, and he and Mano rode away.
    Sometime later, Mano complained, “You let him run us out of town.”
    â€œIt’s his town, not ours,” Clint said. “He had to save face. It did us no harm to let him.”
    Mano thought about that, then said, “I guess you are right.”
    â€œYou stand your ground or fight only when it benefits you, Mano, and never just to do it.”
    â€œI will remember.”
    Carlos Montero reached the rancho a full half a day before Clint and Mano would. He went right to the barn and unsaddled his