Gunsmith 360 : The Mad Scientist of the West (9781101545997) by J. R. Roberts

going to have to reach across the table and strangle him.
    Clint watched just a little while longer, then decided his initial feeling about Miranda was right. She was who she said she was, a whore turned sheriff who found herself with more than she could handle in Gunnison. She had come not only to warn them, but to give herself a good chance to survive if she had to face four gunmen.
    Clint turned and walked back to keep an eye on the road.
    As it started to get dark, he returned to the house. He doubted anybody in a buckboard would try traveling up the mountain in the dark, even if they were on a well-traveled road.
    When he entered, Tesla was, as usual, engrossed in his books. Miranda was sitting across the table from him, cleaning her pistol.
    â€œTime for supper?” she asked.
    â€œTime to cook it,” Clint said. “You two just remain as you are. I can work around you.”
    Tesla looked up, as if he’d suddenly realized Clint was there, and said, “Huh?”
    â€œRelax, Nikola,” Miranda said. “Just keep readin’ your books.”
    She got up and joined Clint at the stove.
    â€œI’m bored. Put me to work?”
    He turned and looked at her.
    â€œCan you peel potatoes?”
    â€œLike an expert.”
    â€œOnions?”
    â€œIf you don’t mind the crying,” she said.
    â€œOkay,” Clint said. “You can help.”

TWENTY-EIGHT
    Tesla cleared his books off the table for supper. Miranda set the table, then helped Clint carry the food and coffee.
    â€œWow,” she said after her first bite.
    â€œThat’s what I said,” Tesla said. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
    â€œAmazing,” she said. She looked at Clint. “Where did you learn to cook?”
    â€œOn the trail.”
    â€œThat’s over an open fire,” she said. “Now you’re usin’ a stove.”
    â€œI graduated.”
    â€œYou sure you didn’t learn from a woman?”
    â€œSorry,” Clint said. “No woman.”
    â€œWife? Mother?”
    â€œNeither.”
    â€œYou’ve been single all these years?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen I guess you’re one of those men.”
    â€œWhich men?”
    â€œThe ones I used to meet in my other job.”
    â€œSorry,” he said, shaking his head. “No whores.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with whores?” she demanded.
    â€œNothing,” he said. “I just don’t like to pay a woman to be with me.”
    She stared at him for a few moments, then said, “No, I guess you don’t have to, do ya?”
    Tesla ate in earnest, hardly listening to their conversation.
    â€œWell,” she said, “you’ll make some woman a fine husband someday.”
    â€œNot me,” he said. “I’m not really the marrying kind. No, I’ll die single.”
    â€œWell, if you know that, do you know how you’ll die?” she asked.
    â€œIn the saddle,” Clint said, “probably at the end of a bullet.”
    â€œYou expect that?”
    â€œGiven the kind of life I lead, yeah,” Clint said. “I’d actually prefer it to a lot of other ways a man could die.”
    â€œLike what?” Tesla asked, suddenly interested.
    â€œLike wasting away in a bed, the way Doc Holliday did,” Clint said. “Like being shot from behind, like Wild Bill Hickok. I won’t mind being shot to death, as long as it comes from the front. But don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to have it happen for a long time yet.”
    Tesla was going to say something else, but he was interrupted by the sound of a scream from outside.
    â€œThe horses,” Clint said.
    He bolted from the table to the door and outside. He circled the house and ran toward the makeshift stable. As he got there, he saw that one of the three horses was down.
    As he reached it, he could smell the blood. The horse that was down was one of the team,