The Gunsmith 385 by J. R. Roberts Page A

Waco, Tom Barry nursed a beer and tried to figure out how to get rid of his men.
    Kane and O’Brien were standing at the bar. Hastings was off someplace with some whore. It occurred to Barry that if he could get Kane and O’Brien killed in a bar fight, he wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore. And he could tell Hastings it wasn’t his fault.
    He looked around him, spotted two tables with poker games going on. Both games had house dealers. At one table the chips were pretty much evenly distributed. The other table, however, presented a different story. One player had most of the chips in front of him. Three of the other players didn’t seem to mind that much, as if their attitude was “ho hum, just another night of losing money . . .”
    One man, however, was not as resigned as the others. Barry could see that if he was any madder, he’d have steam coming out of his ears.
    This was his man.
    Barry watched and listened, saw the man throw his cards down and exclaim, “How the hell—I just can’t figure it.” He was getting furious.
    All Barry had to do was wait . . .
    Â * * * 
    Tracy Hastings stared out the window of the whorehouse. He knew down deep that after Tom Barry managed to get rid of both Kane and Irish O’Brien, he’d get rid of him, too. And for only four thousand dollars. The best thing for him to do would be to ride out now and forget about it. Only he couldn’t. He didn’t want to let Barry get the better of him.
    â€œHey, baby,” the whore said from behind him. “You gonna leave me like this?”
    He turned and looked at her. She had a wide ass, big pendulous breasts, was forty if she was a day, but it had been a while since he’d been with a woman. She had nice skin, and she smelled good. He’d been right in the middle of fucking her when he started to think. When he started to think, his dick got soft.
    â€œCome on, baby,” she said, “I’ll get it hard for you again. I know just how to do it.”
    â€œI bet you do,” Hastings said.
    â€œDon’t make me come over there and grab you by your tallywacker,” she said. “Bring it over here and I’ll suck it dry.”
    He felt it twitch. He loved it when a whore talked dirty to him.
    â€œWhatever you’re thinkin’ about,” she said, “why don’t you think about it later.”
    â€œOkay,” he said, turning to face her, “you got me convinced.”
    Â * * * 
    â€œWhere’s Hastings?” Kane asked.
    â€œHe’s at the whorehouse.”
    â€œWhy ain’t we at the whorehouse?” Kane asked.
    â€œBecause we wanted whiskey first.”
    â€œWhat the hell is wrong with us?”
    â€œDamned if I know.”
    â€œHow long we stayin’ here?” Kane asked.
    â€œBarry said overnight.”
    â€œThen we better go get fucked,” Kane said.
    â€œI agree.”
    They drained their glasses and slapped them down on the bar.
    Â * * * 
    Sometimes, Tom Barry thought, things just work in your favor. As soon as Kane and O’Brien left the saloon, the fella at the poker table won a few hands.
    It was perfect.
    Â * * * 
    Clint and Travis camped about thirty miles outside Waco.
    â€œIf we rode all night, we could make it,” Travis said.
    â€œI want them bad,” Clint said, “but not bad enough to risk my neck, and my horse, at night. Why don’t you go ahead and I’ll meet you there.”
    â€œBecause I’m here to cover your back,” Travis said. “I can’t do that if I ride ahead of you, can I?”
    â€œThen shut up and drink the coffee and eat the beans,” Clint said.
    â€œI’ll eat the beans,” Travis said, “but I’m not going to drink any more of your coffee. I think I’ll just drink water out of my canteen.”
    â€œSuit yourself,” Clint said,