The Pinkerton Job Read Online Free

do.”
    â€œYou still thinkin’ about leavin’ without me?” Horn asked.
    â€œI think it’s gonna be up to you,” Siringo said. “If you can get on a horse, then the three of us will ride out of here tomorrow.”
    â€œClint will still come along?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThat’s good,” Horn said. “We can use his gun.”
    â€œBut if you can’t get yourself on a horse tomorrow,” Siringo went on, “then I suggest Clint and I leave and you rest a few more days before you follow us.”
    Horn chewed his steak and thought about that.
    â€œFrom your point of view, it makes sense,” he finally admitted.
    â€œWe’ll even make it easy for you to follow us,” Siringo added.
    â€œThat won’t be a problem,” Horn said, “but let’s wait and see what happens in the mornin’.”
    Siringo was thinking that, come morning, Horn probably wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed.
    Horn devoured his food, then downed the second glass of whiskey.
    â€œWhat did you and Clint decide?”
    â€œHe and I are gonna meet in the lobby for breakfast,” Siringo said. “Then we’ll come and check on you. After that, we’ll all decide what we’re gonna do. I don’t wanna leave you behind, Tom, but if it’s the best thing for you . . .”
    â€œI get it, Charlie,” Horn said. “I get it. My own damned fault for bein’ stupid enough to stop a bullet. I want to find the bastard who pulled the trigger.”
    â€œIf we get them all,” Siringo said, “it means we got the one who did it.”
    â€œWe’ll get ’em,” Horn said, wincing as he changed position. “Let me have another shot, Charlie.”
    Siringo poured him another shot, then set the bottle down across the room.
    â€œMy room is down the hall,” Siringo said. “Scream if you want somethin’.”
    â€œOh, I’ll scream,” Horn said, sleepily setting the tray aside. He was asleep before Siringo went out the door.
    *   *   *
    Clint went to his room, marveling at how things had changed over the course of the day. He’d only stopped in Las Vegas to restock, never expected to run into somebody he knew, let alone two. And then to hear that they had been shot up. He was glad to see that Charlie Siringo was all right, and hoped Tom Horn would not be foolish enough to try and mount a horse the next day, not with that wound to his thigh.
    Clint, being the kind of friend he was, could not let Siringo continue his hunt of the gang alone—not when he was tracking almost a dozen men. He had no choice but to offer to go along—whether Horn traveled or not.
    Clint read from a Mark Twain collection of short stories for a while, then turned in. He heard someone walking down the hall before he went to sleep, then a door closed, and he assumed that it was Siringo. After that, all was quiet.
    *   *   *
    Siringo went to his own room and peeled off his clothes. He wished he’d had time to take a bath and get some clean clothes, but that wasn’t to be. He slapped as much dirt from his clothes as he could, then set them on the wooden chair in the corner.
    Whether Horn was ready or not, he intended to ride out of Las Vegas the next morning. He’d meant what he said to Horn. The man could follow after him and Clint when he was ready. He would probably catch up to them before they caught the gang. Hopefully, Sandusky thought they were dead, and would not recruit any more men. Going up against a dozen would be bad enough, but not as daunting as it might have been with Clint Adams along. Among the three of them, Siringo knew they had all the talent to make the perfect Pinkerton. Clint would fill in what Siringo and Horn were missing—a deadly accurate hand with a gun. Siringo and Horn could shoot, but they did not have the talent Clint Adams