Under a Turquoise Sky by J. R. Roberts

up. “I’ll be sure to have your horses and supplies ready in the mornin’. Six a.m.?”
    â€œSix is fine,” Chance said.
    Axel left and Clint and Chance ordered pie and coffee.
    â€œYou got a rifle to go with that handgun?” Clint asked Chance.
    â€œSure,” the other man said. “I got a knife and a saddle, too. And an extra shirt.”
    â€œOkay, okay,” Clint said, in the face of the man’s sarcasm, “I was just asking.”
    â€œYeah, okay,” Chance said. “Just figure that you hired me because I know what I’m doin’, okay?”
    â€œOkay.”
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    After lunch Chance said he had to go take care of some personal stuff so he’d be ready to leave in the morning. Clint said he’d meet him in front of the livery at six a.m.
    â€œYou need any more spending money?” Clint asked.
    â€œNo, I’m good,” Chance said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
    Clint watched as Chance went up the street. The two men who thought they were so adept at trailing somebody did not bother to follow him. They stayed with Clint. He considered crossing the street and asking them point blank what was on their minds, but he knew the sheriff wouldn’t take kindly to him killing anyone else while he was in town. If these two men were trying to get up the nerve to confront him, they would have done it by now. If he went and braced them, he might force them into action.
    He decided to go back to the hotel and report to George Markstein on everything they had done.
    Â 
    â€œSounds very impressive for a day’s work,” Markstein said.
    â€œSo, you’ll be ready in the morning?” Clint asked. “Before first light?”
    â€œI am normally an early riser, Mr. Adams,” Markstein said. “I will be more than ready.”
    â€œAnd how’s your head?”
    Markstein touched his bandage. “I have a headache, but the doctor assures me it will be gone soon,” the easterner said.
    â€œI need to ask you a few things, George.”
    â€œAsk away.” Markstein was sitting on his bed, in shirt-sleeves and trousers. He placed his hands on his knees and waited.
    â€œCan you use a gun?” Clint asked.
    â€œA handgun or a rifle?”
    â€œEither one?”
    â€œI am an expert marksman with a rifle,” Markstein said proudly. “My skill with a handgun is not so good.”
    â€œYour expertise with a rifle,” Clint said. “Target shooting?”
    â€œYes,” the other man said. “Trap shooting, skeet shooting, some deer hunting.”
    â€œYou’ve never killed a man?”
    â€œHeavens, no.”
    â€œNever fired at a man?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDo you think you could ever fire at a man?”
    â€œWell…if it was self-defense, I suppose…”
    â€œDon’t suppose, George,” Clint said. “If you don’t think you can do it, let me know now.”
    The man thought about it for a moment and said, “Well, I guess…no, I know, if our lives were in danger, I would…shoot at a man.”
    â€œShoot to kill?”
    â€œYes,” Markstein said, squaring his shoulders, “shoot to kill. Do you think we may…have to do that?”
    â€œThere have been two men following us,” Clint said, “following me, actually.”
    â€œWhat do they want?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Clint said. “They may be harmless.”
    â€œWhat if it’s not you they’re after?” Markstein asked. “What if it’s me? And my mine?”
    â€œIt could be,” Clint said. “If it is, they’ll probably follow us up there.”
    â€œAnd that is where we may have to defend ourselves?” Markstein asked. “That’s why you’ve been asking me if I’d shoot a man?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWell then,” Markstein said, “if they are after my mine, the answer