Deadly Election (9781101619223) by J. R. Roberts Page B

about his duties each day without saying a word, or casting a disapproving glance. Clint still didn’t know where he went or what he did when he was off duty—if, in fact, he was ever off duty.
    Heck knew what was going on, but he kept his silence, simply followed Clint during the day, and then kept watch over the house at night.
    After two weeks Heck told Clint they had to talk. They went into the living room together one evening while Carla was dressing for supper, and Will Gryder had not yet arrived.
    “You think this is gonna go on much longer?” Heck asked.
    “The campaign?” Clint asked. “There’s still weeks of it, maybe more.”
    “I mean, before there’s another try at you,” Heck said.
    “You’ve got to get back to work, right?”
    “I heard from the Judge, and he ain’t happy,” Heck said. “And he ain’t mad at me, it’s you.”
    “Me?”
    “He says it’s all your fault I ain’t been workin’.”
    “Look, Heck,” Clint said, “I don’t want to get you into trouble with your boss—”
    “Just relax,” Heck said. “I can still squeeze another week out of the ol’ boy, but after that maybe you should find somebody else to back your play. Maybe Bat? Or Wyatt? Or that Jeremy Pike guy?”
    “I can talk to Pike about that next week,” Clint said. “I understand we’re supposed to put in an appearance in Washington.”
    Heck made a face.
    “I hate Washington.”
    “I know,” Clint said. “I’m not so crazy about the idea either. I sort of wish these people would make their try before then.”
    “That would suit us both,” Heck said.
    Gryder arrived at that point, admitted by Julius, who informed him of where Clint and Heck were.
    “Will,” Clint said. “Want a drink?”
    “A brandy would go down well at this point.”
    “What’s the problem?”
    “The polls,” Gryder said, accepting a glass. “We’re behind.”
    “Clint is losin’?” Heck asked.
    “I know,” Gryder said, “I can’t believe it either.” He looked at Clint. “And there’s another thing.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Before we go to Washington next week,” he said, “the incumbent wants to meet with you.”
    “What for?”
    “Who knows? Maybe he wants to ask you to quit.”
    “But why, if he’s winning?”
    “It’s politics, Clint,” Gryder said. “Anything could happen.”
    “So, what do you think?” Clint asked. “Should I go and see him?”
    “You almost have to,” Gryder said. “It would be rude not to.”
    “What’s this feller’s name?” Heck asked.
    “Turner,” Gryder said, “Congressman Big Ben Turner.”
    “Never heard of him,” Heck said.
    “What kind of man is he?” Clint asked.
    “Stubborn,” Gryder said. “He refuses to face the fact that times are changing. That’s why we have to get him out of office.”
    “Okay, so when do we do this?”
    “I can set it up tomorrow,” Gryder said. “We’ll have to go to his house, though.”
    “Is that a problem?”
    “It shouldn’t be,” Gryder said. “But we can bring Heck along anyway.”
    “I’ll be there,” Heck promised.
    Carla came into the room, wearing a red dress that impressed all three men.
    “Are we ready to eat?” she asked. “Or is there a problem?”
    “I was just telling Clint that Old Turner wants to see him.”
    “That old lech,” she said. “He pinches my bottom every time I see him.”
    “So smack him,” Clint said.
    She looked at Gryder.
    “Can I do that?”
    Gryder just shrugged.

THIRTY-TWO
    The next morning Gryder missed breakfast, but picked up Clint, Heck, and Carla with a cab drawn by two horses that was large enough to carry all of them. In spite of that, Heck still insisted on riding in the “shotgun” position.
    “Does he know how many of us are coming?” Clint asked.
    “Oh yes,” Gryder said. “He’s always glad to see Carla, and he said he’s looking forward to meeting the famous lawman, Heck Thomas.”
    “Well, that’s fine. And what’s the