Further Adventures of James Butler Hickok (9781101601853) by J. R. Roberts Page A

“I understand.”
    â€œSo you’ll be with me for as long as it takes?”
    â€œWhy not?” Clint asked.
    â€œI appreciate that, Clint,” Hickok said. “You and Charlie Sutter are the only two men I trust to watch my back.”
    â€œWhere is Charlie?”
    â€œI ain’t sure,” Hickok said. “I was supposed to meet him in Cheyenne, but he hadn’t shown when the robbery took place.”
    â€œSo when they tell him you took off after the Jenkins gang, he’ll come after you, right?”
    â€œI would think so.”
    â€œMaybe he’ll catch up to us, and then we’ll be three against five.”
    â€œYou and me, we can handle them,” Hickok said.
    â€œThey any good with guns?”
    â€œThey’re free with ’em,” Hickok said. “They like usin’ ’em, pistols and rifles.”
    â€œBut are they any good?”
    â€œThey’ve killed enough men,” Hickok said. “Seems like they can hit what they shoot at. But you and me, we can hit anythin’.”
    Clint studied his friend, specifically his eyes. There were some moments in Abilene when Hickok seemed to be having some problems with his eyes. In fact, the night he accidentally shot his deputy, Mike Williams, Clint thought it was because he didn’t recognize the man until it was too late.
    He almost asked Hickok about the problem, but decided against it. He knew his friend was sensitive on the subject.
    â€œBill, did you track the men this far?”
    â€œI did,” Hickok said. “They didn’t come through town, but I was so close to Rawlins I thought I’d stop, pick up some supplies.”
    â€œThat what you got in that burlap sack?”
    The sack was hanging from Hickok’s saddle horn.
    â€œYup. When I travel light, I just put a few things in a sack—coffee, jerky—and some extra cartridges in my saddlebag.”
    â€œMakes sense.” It was a practice Clint would use in years to come, Not the only thing he’d ever learned from Wild Bill Hickok.
    â€œWe should be able to pick up the trail ahead,” Hickok said. “They swung wide of the town, probably figured the news had already reached here, this close to Cheyenne.”
    â€œHow did you know I was in town?” Clint asked.
    â€œI told you,” Hickok said, “you’re gettin’ pretty well known. I heard a couple of men in the mercantile talkin’ about you. Didn’t take me long to find out what hotel you were in.”
    â€œAnd if I hadn’t been in town, you would’ve kept on tracking those boys alone?”
    â€œThat’s right,” Hickok said. “I’m mad enough to keep trackin’ them myself, but when I heard you were in town, I figured I’d ask you for your help.”
    â€œAsk?” Clint said. “Is that what you did?”
    â€œI didn’t exactly force you, now, did I?”
    â€œNo, you didn’t force me,” Clint said. “But the way you told the story, you didn’t really give me much of a choice . . . did you?”
    * * * 
    Ahead of them, the Jenkins gang had camped to split the take from the bank in Cheyenne . . .
    Rafe Jenkins took the money out of the bank bags, counted it out, and handed some to his brother, Orville. It was the same amount he’d given to Ben, Charlie, and George.
    â€œThat’s all?”
    â€œIt’s what I give the others,” Rafe said. “They didn’t squawk.”
    â€œThey don’t live the way I do,” Orville said.
    â€œThat’s because they ain’t as foolish as you,” Rafe said. “They do what I tell ’em.”
    â€œYou ain’t but four years older than me, Rafe,” Orville said. “I ain’t gotta do what you tell me to do.”
    Rafe stood tall and said, “You do as long as I run this gang.”
    Orville tried to match his brother, but he