“Naw. Be fine out here. If you go into Tinker’s, there’s only one way out of there. I’ll be here waiting for you.”
“Could be a while.”
“If I get lonely, I’ll talk to myself.”
The door opened. The girl stood in front of J.B., wearing tight jeans and a blouse that was tucked into her waistband. The slim, curvy build left no doubts as to her sex.
“You got more of a vision problem than those glasses lead a person to expect?” the girl asked. “Or mebbe I should whistle up your dog, ’cause he sure as hell isn’t doing his job.”
J.B. looked into the pale blue eyes. “Sign says ‘and sons.’ Reckon you caught me by surprise.”
“I can handle a pistol or long blaster about as good as any in these parts. And that sign’s right. I’m Tinker’s daughter-in-law. I help out here at the store. You got an idea of what you want? Or are you just going to wish and dream?”
“Kirkland said there’d be a line of credit,” J.B. replied. “Figure on spending some of that if I can.”
“There is, and you can. But you come in hungry, it’ll spend right fast. Kirkland don’t tap into us as much as he does some in this ville.”
“I know what I need.” J.B. reached into his shirt pocket and took out one of the shotgun’s flechette rounds. “Seen anything like that?”
The girl took the shell between her fingers and turned it carefully to catch the weak light streaming down from the street lanterns. “Twelve gauge?”
“Yeah.”
“Special load?”
“Flechettes.”
She nodded. “Heard of them, but I never saw a shell like this.” She handed it back to the Armorer. “Fraid we can’t help you.”
“Anna,” the older man’s voice roared, “you let that man on in here. Right now.”
“Yes, sir, Daddy.” When Anna stepped back from the doorway, she took a step to the side, keeping her gun hand clear. She fisted the double-action .44 Magnum Colt Anaconda in the holster on her hip. “But, Mr. Dix, remember to keep any sudden moves to yourself.”
J.B. touched his hat. “I’ll surely keep that in mind.” He stepped into the darkened room, blinking rapidly in an effort to bring his night vision up to speed. Rather than looking directly at objects, he depended on a peripheral view, because that part of sight always adjusted first.
The forward room of the building was small and bare. Gun ports cut into the wall on the other side looked like yawning demons’ mouths even in the shadows trapped inside the room. Hard metal gleamed inside.
J.B. raised his hands, making sure to keep them away from his body. “If this is going to make everybody this tense, mebbe we can do this another day.”
“If I don’t like what I see,” the man stated, “I reckon we won’t see you again tomorrow. Neither will anybody else.”
“Then hurry up and make up your mind,” J.B. told him, “’cause I’ve got to scratch my nose something fierce and I don’t want to get shot for my trouble. Can’t imagine anything worse than getting a belly full of double-aught buckshot and dying kind of slow while your nose is itching the whole time.”
Anna stood at the side, clear of any field of fire. “You want to move away from that door? I got to lock up.”
J.B. nodded slowly. “Two steps to my right, and I’m going to take them slow. Count them for you. One.” He stepped, his stomach tight in anticipation. His mind was working the angles automatically, weighing the risks. It was possible he could whirl and yank the young woman into the way, then hit the door running and get away before he got shot. But he was curious, too, because this wasn’t at all the kind of reception he’d expected to receive after Kirkland’s invitation. “And two.” He stopped.
“That’s fine. Anna, get that door now.”
Anna moved forward and shot the locks. “I’m going to take his guns, too, Daddy.”
“No.” Tinker Phillips’s voice didn’t hesitate. “You stay away from that man. If he’s who he says he is, you’ll be dead before I could tell you was in trouble.”