The Gunsmith 386 Read Online Free

said. “Normally I would cook for my father and myself, but since he’s not back yet, I was just going to get a bite.”
    â€œWell, go ahead,” he said. “I won’t stop you.”
    â€œMaybe I can—”
    â€œI’ll see you in the morning,” he said. “Maybe your father will be back, and you won’t even have to talk to me again.”
    â€œThat’s not fai—”
    He cut her off by turning and walking away, a slight smile on his face.

SEVEN
    Clint went back to the Jack of Hearts later that night, had a few beers, watched the activity going on. Every so often he looked at the bartender—whose name was Mack—and he’d shake his head. No strangers.
    There were poker and faro tables, but nothing else. The seats were all taken, but even when one opened up, Clint was not interested in playing.
    There was something—rather, someone—who was attracting his interest, though. Her name was Maria, a Mexican with a lovely Spanish accent. She worked the saloon floor very gracefully, managing to avoid most of the groping male hands and laughing about it. When she laughed, her eyes flashed. Every so often she tossed her head to get her black hair out of her eyes. And during the course of the night, she kept finding reasons to come over to where Clint was standing at the bar.
    One time she said, “I hear you’re lookin’ for some strangers.”
    â€œA couple,” he said “See any?”
    â€œOnly you.”
    â€œThat’s what I keep hearing.”
    â€œWell, my name’s Maria. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Later she came back with an empty tray and set it on the bar for the bartender to fill with drinks.
    â€œNot interested in gamblin’?” she asked him.
    â€œNot tonight.”
    â€œMaybe you’d just like to talk?” she asked.
    â€œThat would be nice.”
    â€œYeah, well, I noticed you haven’t been talkin’ to any of the men around you, so I thought maybe . . . a woman?”
    â€œDo you have anyone in mind?”
    She smiled, picked up her tray, and said, “I’ll let you know.”
    As it got later, she stopped by him more often, and they did talk. She’d been living in Hastings for five years, had bought herself a small house outside town. She admitted to him that she used to work as a whore, but for the past few years she’d only been working as a saloon girl. No men. At least, not for money.
    â€œOnly when it’s somebody I like,” she said. “Or somebody who intrigues me.”
    â€œAnd which am I?”
    â€œA little of both, I suppose,” she said.
    And in the end, when her shift was over, she took him home with her, with the promise of a bath . . . and a lot more . . .
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    She drew a bath for him, told him she’d give him some privacy. Alone in the room, he stripped, set his gun on a chair by the tub, and lowered himself into the hot water.
    He lay back in the bathtub, enjoying how the steaming water soothed his aching muscles. After the day he’d had, it did him no end of good to just relax and have some peace and quiet. His arms hung over the sides of the tub. When he shifted one hand, his fingers bumped against something that was warm, soft, and hadn’t been there before. He sat bolt upright and turned to find Maria circling around the tub. She wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, and his fingers had brushed against the smooth, dark skin of her leg.
    â€œI surprise you?” she asked in her sultry Spanish accent.
    â€œMaybe a little,” Clint replied.
    She glanced toward the nearby chair, where his holster hung along with his hat. “You want to get to your gun?”
    â€œDo I need it?”
    She smiled and climbed in with him. Sitting with her back against the opposite end of the tub from Clint, Maria nestled against the