Gunsmith 360 : The Mad Scientist of the West (9781101545997) Read Online Free PDF Page A

be on our way.”
    â€œGo ahead and ask.”
    â€œGunnison,” Clint said. “How far away are we?”
    â€œA day’s ride,” the man said.
    â€œBuckboard or by horse?” Clint asked.
    â€œYou stay to the road, you should be able to make it with your buckboard.”
    â€œOkay,” Clint said, “thanks.”
    â€œSure you don’t need somethin’ before you go?” the man asked.
    â€œNo,” Clint said, “we’re pretty well set.”
    â€œWhere you comin’ from?”
    â€œDenver.”
    â€œTwo nights on the trail?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWell,” the man said, “you should make Gunnison easy. They got a general store there.”
    â€œThat’s good to know,” Clint said. “Thanks.”
    Clint nodded, turned, and walked out the tent flap. Outside he saw that the three men who had been watching them now had the wagon surrounded. One of them was holding Tesla’s rifle, had apparently taken it away from the scientist before he could fire a shot. Clint looked around, saw a barrel filled with hickory ax handles.
    â€œAny law in this town?” he asked the storekeeper.
    â€œJust what you can enforce yerself,” the man said.
    He grabbed one of the ax handles and stepped forward . . .
    Â 
    Tesla was surprised at how quickly the three men had surrounded him, suddenly yanking the rifle from his hand before he could fire a warning shot for Clint.
    â€œGive that back!” he shouted to the man holding his rifle.
    â€œNow, that ain’t exactly friendly,” one of the men said. “Sittin’ there with a rifle over yer knees. Whataya think, Donnie?”
    â€œNot friendly at all,” Donnie said.
    Tesla couldn’t tell the three men apart; they looked the same to him. Same clothes, same stubble on their faces, same hard expressions on their face.
    â€œWhat do you want?” he demanded.
    The third man walked to the back of the buckboard and peered under the tarp.
    â€œWhoeee, boys, but he got a lot of stuff under here,” he called out.
    â€œDon’t touch that!” Tesla yelled. “Some of it is delicate.”
    â€œDelicate, ya say?” the first man said. “Then maybe you need to have it protected.”
    â€œWe could do that,” the one called Donnie said. “Hey, Roman?”
    The first man—Roman—said, “We sure could, fer a price.”
    â€œI don’t need to have it protected,” Tesla said.
    â€œYeah, ya do,” the third man said. “’Cause otherwise somethin’ could get broke.”
    â€œYeah,” Roman said, “you need protection, dude.”
    Tesla suddenly saw Clint coming out of the tent and felt relief flood over him.
    â€œI already have protection,” he said.
    â€œAnd where would that be?” Roman asked.
    â€œRight behind you.”
    Roman turned his head, saw the man coming out of the tent carrying an ax handle, and turned to face him. The other two men also saw the man and stepped away from the wagon . . .
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    â€œCan I help you fellows with something?” Clint asked.
    â€œThis your wagon?” Roman asked.
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œWhere you headed?”
    â€œNorth.”
    â€œGunnison?”
    â€œThat direction.”
    Roman jerked his thumb at the buckboard.
    â€œThis stuff valuable?”
    â€œIt has value to us,” Clint said.
    â€œSeems to me ya may need some protection, then,” Roman said.
    â€œYou fellas hire out for that sort of thing?”
    â€œWe do.”
    â€œWell,” Clint said, “I think we’re okay. Why don’t you give my friend back his rifle?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Roman said, “he might get hurt.”
    Clint moved closer, keeping the ax handle down by his leg, in his left hand.
    â€œI don’t think he will,” he said. “Just hand it back to him and we’ll be on our