Ball and Chain by J. R. Roberts Page B

operator’s bloodshot eyes were trained on him, the barkeep put on a well-practiced smile and said, “You mentioned Zeke plenty of times, Ben. I’m sure Clint won’t just leave you here.”
    Clint chuckled at the beleaguered expression etched onto the barkeep’s face. “Actually, I was going to do just that. I think the big fellow will be safe enough where he is.”
    â€œSure,” the barkeep grumbled.
    â€œAll right, then.” Digging out some money and handing it over to the barkeep, he added, “This is for the next few cups of coffee along with your patience.”
    The barkeep took the money and tucked it into his shirt pocket with a smile. “I’ve seen Ben off before. I can do it again.”
    â€œWhere the hell you going, Adams?” Ben roared. “I wanna hear all about what happened when you gunned down them robbers.”
    â€œI already told you about it. Twice, in fact. I’ve got to go.”
    â€œWhere you going?”
    â€œI’m having supper at . . .” Clint had to stop for a second to fight through the bit of haze in his head. The beer was just potent enough to make him pause before remembering the name he was after. “Hank Mason’s place. I’ve got some business with him, and his daughter is supposed to cook supper.”
    â€œEllie Mason, eh?” Ben chuckled. A lewd grin spread across his face as he looked at the other men surrounding him. A few of them merely nodded, but the drunker of the bunch looked just as lecherous as Ben. “I’ll want to hear all about it when you come back.”
    Knowing that Ben was attempting to make a crude joke, Clint slapped him on the shoulder as if the comment had served its purpose. “I will, Ben. Thanks for the drinks.”
    In the short time he’d been in the saloon, Clint had also managed to swap a few stories with some of the other locals inside the place. He said his good-byes to them and promised to stop by real soon. As he turned toward the door, his eye was caught by a pair of men sitting behind several posts at one of the back tables. Before Clint could get a better look at the men, he was spun back around to face the bar.
    â€œWhere you goin’?” Ben grunted. “You need to tell me all about—”
    â€œI will,” Clint interrupted as he bolted for the door. Even though he made it outside the Howling Moon, Clint could still hear Ben’s voice bellowing from within the saloon. He quickened his steps before the big man charged outside to lasso him back to the bar.
    Clint took a few steps down the street and stopped. The sun was on its way down, but the growing shadows weren’t what threw him off his mark. He’d only been in town for a matter of hours and had barely walked down two streets in that time. He took a quick look over his shoulder to make sure he was headed in the right direction to get to Hank’s house.
    When Clint turned, he spotted a man stepping out of the Howling Moon. He couldn’t make out the man’s face, though, and when the man turned around and went back inside, Clint followed suit by going about his own business.
    Foremost in his thoughts was the hope that Hank’s daughter was a good cook.

FOURTEEN
    The sun dipped below the horizon and several of the windows in Hinterland started to flicker with the warm glow of candles or lanterns behind them. The wind blew in from the west, carrying a cold chill along with them that cut like a blade as they blew to the east. There wasn’t much of a moon showing that night, which made it easier for Acklund and Mose to creep up to the large blue house on the edge of town.
    Stopping on the edge of the light being thrown onto the ground from one of the side windows, Acklund hunkered down and waved for Mose to do the same. Mose was a lot bigger than his brother, but he crouched down as much as his long legs would allow.
    â€œStay here and keep watch,”