An Outlaw's Silence (manxman)(second story in The Crane Gang series)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Wyatt swallowed hard, hating the weakness he felt. Now was certainly not the time for his legs to give out.

"Where's Tobin?" Clint demanded.

"Would that rather large lump in the corner happen to be Tobin?" Pete asked with a chuckle.

Clint's eyes momentarily darted to Tobin and then narrowed as they once again focused on Wyatt. "Is he dead?" Clint asked with a quiet, dangerous kind of calm.

'Yes,' Wyatt replied, nodding as well just in case the man had trouble reading his lips.

"No so sure I want the job now, Clint," Pete mused, rocking back on his heels. "Then again, it seems like you probably need a man of my skill. Your men don't seem up to the task. Hell, even half-dead men and scared women are a threat to them."

Clint snorted. "These two are not threat."

Pete whispered quietly. "Tell that to Tobin."

Clint jaw tightened. "Tobin paid for his foolishness. And this negro is gonna pay for his now. It's time for you to die, quiet man."

Wyatt's finger tightened on his trigger. If he was going to die, he was damn sure gonna take Clint with him—he just hoped Pete would make it out alive. The man had a child—or would soon.

And if Pete was here... then where was everyone else? Wyatt knew that his presence had to mean the gang was close.

"You're just gonna kill him quick like that? A gunshot to the heart or the head and done?" Pete questioned with a frown.

"You don't think the bastard deserves to die?" Clint asked.

Pete shrugged and scratched at his freckled jaw. "Of course I do—of course I've been told a time or two that I just like killing people." Pete grinned. "But if it were me, and this were my gang with my people, I'd be a little embarrassed."

"What the hell you talkin' about?" one of the other men scoffed.

Pete held up a calming hand. "Down boy. No need to bite my head off." Pete winked. "I'm just saying that Clint should be worried about his image. Here I am, a man who has made a living killing folks, I've come here to get a job with Clint and Reg and what do I find when I show up? A half-dead, scrawny negro killing Clint's biggest man and nearly escaping with a woman in tow!"

"What the hell is your point?" Clint demanded.

Wyatt wondered the same thing. Pete was stalling for some reason and so Wyatt was going to follow his lead and go along with him. Pete seemed to know what he was doing.

Pete crossed his arms over his chest with a smile. "I always have a point. My point is that I know you're holding them for a reason and you also need to show that you are still tough and deserving of respect. If you just kill him in here with a quick bullet to the head, what point will you have made?"

Clint's eyes narrowed. "And just what do you know about why I'm keeping them?"

"People talk. Word gets around. You can't keep a secret in this jabber jaw society we live in." A broad grin split Pete's face. "And the word is, that you're looking to piss off a certain giant injun that makes his living hunting bounties."

"Is that so?" Clint's jaw popped. "You think you know a better way I can piss him off?"

Pete pointed to the door. "Do it outside. Make it slow, leave him to bleed out and let the buzzards finish him off. Because the word also is that that injun you hate so much is close—real close."

"How close?" Clint demanded.

Pete shrugged. "Close enough to ride in and realize he was only a little too late—but still too late."

Wyatt could see the gears turning in Clint's mind. If Pete was trying to get the outside, that meant help would be there. For the first time, Wyatt felt a bit of hope.

Then Clint smiled and Wyatt felt the coldness of that expression deep down in his bones. "Put the gun down, negro. We're going outside."

Wyatt spared a glance at Pete and the man winked. Slowly, loath fully, Wyatt lowered the gun and dropped it to the floor. He nearly fell with it as his strength proved it was tapped. Eleanor grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Bring them outside," Clint growled, before turning and striding out the door.

Two of the men grabbed Eleanor and Wyatt's fists clenched as they dragged her after Clint.

Pete grinned at Clint's remaining man and took hold of Wyatt. "I got the dangerous, starved one," he vowed. "I wouldn't want him to kill another of Clint's well-trained men."

The man glared, muttered a string of curses under his breath and stomped outside. "Some men can't take a joke," Pete quipped as he stooped low to pick up the fallen revolver. He tucked it into the waistband at the back of Wyatt's pants and hid it with Wyatt's loose shirt.

"Well Wyatt, you killed the plan."

Wyatt frowned. 'Plan?'

Pete sighed as he slowly led a limping Wyatt toward the door. "The other are waiting not too far out. I was supposed to come in, use my incredible charms, learn what I needed to learn and then get out again and report back to the gang—and that strapping man of yours." Wyatt bit his lip and felt his face heat. Pete grinned. "But thanks to you and your muscles of steel, and the rock you had in your hand, I don't believe that's an option anymore because they're ready to kill you now. That means that you killed the plan."

Wyatt felt that hope that had just begun to blossom, wither and die quickly. 'So what do we do?'

Pete shrugged. "Hell if I know. As of now the new plan is, 'don't die'."

Wyatt rolled his eyes. 'Not much of a plan.'

"It's all we have." Pete smiled but it seemed weak. "Don't worry, Wyatt. I was always the brains in the operation. I'll think of something."