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that.”
    â€œWhy hopefully?” she asked. “You’re obviously not afraid to kill people.”
    â€œI only kill someone if they force me into it.”
    â€œWell, he will,” she said, “because he ain’t gonna back down—that bitch wife of his won’t let him.”
    â€œThen maybe I should kill her.”
    â€œGood!” she spat. “Kill ’em both!”
    â€œLet’s not be so bloodthirsty,” Clint said. “I was kidding. I’m not going to kill Mrs. Locksley, but I should go and talk to her.”
    â€œYou’ll see what a hard bitch she is.”
    â€œWhen Doc comes back, I’ll find out for myself,” he said.
    Her eyes were closing, so he stood up.
    â€œI’m going to let you get some rest,” he said. “We’ll talk later.”
    â€œI am kinda tire . . .” she said, and drifted off to sleep.
    *   *   *
    When Doc Mathis returned, Clint was sitting in his office, waiting.
    â€œHow is she?”
    â€œShe was tired, so I let her go back to sleep.”
    Mathis went in to check, then came back.
    â€œShe wasn’t sleeping before, she was unconscious.”
    â€œAnd now?”
    â€œNow she’s sleeping, and that’s good.”
    Clint stood up.
    â€œWhere are you off to?” Mathis asked.
    â€œI’m going to talk to Mrs. Locksley,” I said. “Everybody seems to think she’s got the real power. Maybe I can convince her to give Mary a couple of days to recover, and then leave.”
    â€œGood luck,” Mathis said. “That woman is not one you can talk into anything.”
    â€œWell, I’ll give it a try,” Clint said. “All I need to know is where to find her.”
    â€œTry her house,” Doc said, and gave Clint directions. “Biggest one in town. You can’t miss it.”
    â€œThanks, Doc.”

FIFTEEN
    Clint found the house with no trouble, as Doc had assured him. It was two stories, with white columns out front, and balconies above.
    He approached the front door and knocked. With this kind of house, he expected the door to be opened by a servant. Instead, a woman who was very unservantlike opened it and stared at him.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI’m looking for Mrs. Locksley.”
    â€œYou found her,” she said, “but I don’t know you.”
    â€œNo, you don’t, ma’am,” he said. “My name is Clint Adams.”
    â€œAh,” she said, “you’re the one who brought that bitch back to town.”
    â€œWell, uh, yes, but the, uh, bitch was unconscious when I brought her back. Not her doing at all.”
    She frowned at him, then said, “Well, come inside,” and backed away.
    Clint entered, closed the door, and followed the woman through a large, high-ceilinged entryway into a plushly furnished living room.
    â€œThis is very impressive,” he said.
    â€œThank you,” she said. “It’s furnished to my taste, of course.”
    She stopped, turned, and folded her arms. She was wearing an expensive robe that looked to him like silk, belted tightly at the waist. He hadn’t known what to expect the way everyone talked about her. What he found was a beautiful woman, tall and slender, although the tight robe did bulge in the right places. She had long black hair, and the skin of her face was smooth and pale. She wasn’t evil looking at all, although she was giving him a rather stern look at the moment.
    â€œI am going to give you the benefit of the doubt, Mr. Adams,” she said. “You found an unconscious girl and brought her to the closest town for treatment.”
    â€œThat’s exactly how it happened.”
    â€œFine,” she said, “now get her out of town.”
    â€œI intend to,” Clint said, “as soon as she’s ready to ride.”
    â€œGet her a buggy,” Angela Locksley said, “or tie her to a horse