Further Adventures of James Butler Hickok (9781101601853) by J. R. Roberts Read Free Book Online

willing to talk.”
    â€œLike I said,” the sheriff said. “I’m still lookin’.”
    The sheriff started to leave the cell block as Clint removed the napkin from over his food.
    â€œHey!”
    â€œWhat now?” the lawman asked.
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    The lawman hesitated, then said, “Sunshine.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat’s my name,” the lawman said with a shrug. “Sheriff Andy Sunshine.”
    â€œOkay,” Clint said, “Sheriff Sunshine.”
    â€œI’ll be back later for the tray.”
    Clint waved as the lawman went out.
    Sunshine.

SIXTEEN
    D ENVER, C OLORADO T HE PRESENT
    â€œWait a minute,” Mark Silvester said.
    â€œI thought we said no questions until the end,” Clint reminded him.
    â€œYes, but you have to let me have this one,” the writer said. He had taken out a notebook when Clint started talking, and now he was looking up from it.
    â€œOkay, what?”
    â€œSunshine?”
    â€œThat was the man’s name.”
    â€œAnd why are you telling me all this stuff about you?” Silvester said. “I thought this was about Wild Bill.”
    â€œIt is,” Clint said. “Just let me finish.”
    â€œOkay,” Silvester said, “finish.”
    â€œLet’s get some more coffee first.”
    He gestured to the waiter.
    * * * 
    Wells was already there when Dawkins entered the saloon. He had ordered two brandies, but no cheese and bread.
    As Dawkins sat down, Wells said, “You found him already.”
    â€œHow do you know that?”
    â€œYou’ve got a self-satisfied look on your face,” Wells said. “My guess is you’re not a very good poker player. No poker face.”
    Dawkins picked up his brandy and said, “I don’t have time for games.”
    â€œOnly work, huh?” Wells asked.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œBoring life.”
    â€œI drink brandy,” Dawkins said, “I eat well, and I read.”
    â€œWhen you’re not working.”
    â€œWhich is hardly ever.”
    â€œI know what you mean,” Wells said.
    A waiter came and set down a plate of cheese and bread, this time along with some meats.
    â€œI hope you don’t mind this for breakfast,” Wells said.
    â€œNot at all.” Dawkins reached for some meat and cheese, put them on a slice of bread, and took a bite.
    Wells did the same.
    â€œOkay,” Wells said, “so what’ve you got?”
    â€œI’ve got a need to get paid.”
    Wells stared at Dawkins, who kept chewing.
    â€œBut you did find him, right?”
    â€œRight.”
    Wells reached into his jacket, took out an envelope, and passed it over to Dawkins, who stuck it in his jacket.
    â€œYou aren’t going to count it?”
    â€œI trust you, Wells,” Dawkins said.
    Wells took more meat, cheese, and bread.
    â€œHey, next time we’ll get some fruit, too.”
    â€œFuck that,” Dawkins said. “Next time we’ll go for steaks.”
    â€œThere’s going to be a next time?”
    â€œOh, yeah.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause you still need me.”
    â€œI do?”
    Dawkins nodded.
    â€œOkay, I’ll bite,” Wells said. “Where’s my man and why do I still need you?”
    â€œYour writer is staying at the Denver House Hotel,” Dawkins said.
    â€œWhere’s that?”
    â€œJust a few blocks east of here.”
    Wells waited, finally asked, “And?”
    â€œAnd when I saw him, he wasn’t alone.”
    â€œWho was he with?”
    â€œFella named Clint Adams,” Dawkins said.
    â€œClint—wait,” Wells said. “Isn’t that . . . the Gunsmith?”
    â€œThat’s right.” Dawkins popped a piece of cheese into his mouth.
    â€œWhat were they doing?”
    â€œNear as I could figure,” Dawkins said, “they were having