“What’s your business, friend?”

  “I do magic.”

  “Do what?”

  “Magic,” Emrys said. “I’m a magician.” He reached into the sheriff’s vest and brought out a bouquet of flowers. The crowd “ahhhed” again.

  “What the—”

  “Who wants these for his wife?” Emrys asked.

  A man stepped forward and took them, showed them to his friends.

  “Magic,” he told the sheriff.

  “Ain’t no such thing.”

  “Is that right?” Emrys said. “I tell you what, Sheriff. Draw your gun and point it at me.”

  “What?”

  “Go ahead, do it,” Emrys said. “You won’t hurt me.”

  “Mister, I don’t take my gun out of its holster less’n I’m gonna use it.”

  “Don’t worry, Sheriff,” Emrys said, “you’re not going to take it out now.”

  “Huh?”

  “Go ahead, try it,” the magician said.

  The sheriff scowled, murmured, “Durned fool,” and went to draw his gun. He came out of his holster with a handful of flowers.

  “Wha—” He threw the flowers down as if they were red hot. “Where’s my damn gun?”

  “Look in your holster.”

  The sheriff looked down, saw that his gun was still in his holster.

  “How’d you do that?” he demanded.

  Emrys smiled and said, “Magic.”

  FOUR

  The sheriff grabbed some men from the crowd and had them carry the bodies over to the undertaker’s office.

  “I’ll need you boys not to leave town,” he told Clint and Emrys.

  “I’ll be at one of your hotels,” Clint said. “Don’t know which one yet.”

  “I guess I’ll do the same, after I find someplace to put my wagon.”

  “Try Hanson’s Livery,” the sheriff said. “He’s got enough room. End of the street.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.”

  The sheriff set about dispersing the crowd, and then walked over to the undertaker’s.

  “I owe you a meal,” Emrys said to Clint. “Let me get my wagon situated, and get myself a room, and I’ll buy you a steak.”

  “Sounds good,” Clint said. “We passed a hotel on the way in. I’ll be there, if they have a room.”

  “Okay,” Emrys said, “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  They separated there, each going his own way for the time being.

  • • •

  In among the crowd were two men who recognized the dead men.

  “That was Tom Dover and his boys,” Ed Morley said. “Did you see?”

  “I saw,” Danny Roburt said.

  “Whataya think the sheriff’s gonna do about it?” Morley asked.

  “The old man ain’t gonna do nothin’,” Roburt said.

  “That’s right,” Morley said. “So we have to.”

  “Why?” Roburt said. “Those three were idiots.”

  “I know,” Morley said, “but they were our friends.”

  “Your friends maybe.”

  “Look,” Morley said as the sheriff shouted at the crowd to go home, “if they can be killed and nothin’ gets done, it could happen to us. Somebody’s got to pay for this.”

  “What the hell,” Roburt said. “If I’m dead, what do I care if somebody pays for it or not? I’ll be just as dead.”

  “Look, Roburt—”

  “Forget it,” Roburt said. “You wanna get revenge, get some of your other friends to do it with you. Not me. Not for those three.”

  As Roburt walked away, Morley thought he was right. He should talk to some of his other friends.

  • • •

  Emrys found Hanson’s Livery and arranged for his horse and wagon to be stored.

  “This is important,” he said to Old Man Hanson. “Don’t go in the wagon.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’m serious,” he said. “There’s magic in there that can kill you.”

  Hanson stared at the wagon.

  “For real?”

  “For real.”

  “Yer shittin’ me!”

  Emrys waved his hand and a puff of smoke appeared in the air between them. Hanson stepped back from it, his eyes going wide.

  “Magic,” the magician said.

  Hanson watched as the smoke rose, and dissipated.

  “Do not go in the wagon,” Emrys said again.

  “Yes, sir,” Hanson said. “I mean, no, sir. I won’t go in the wagon.”

  FIVE

  Clint was waiting in the lobby when the magician showed up. He came down from the second floor, so Clint knew he was staying in the same hotel.

  “Ready for that steak?” Emrys asked.

  “I don’t know,” Clint said. “Is it going to be cooked, or are you going to make it appear from thin air? Or do you only do that with guns?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emrys said. “Let’s go find a café that makes steaks.”

  “Suits me,” Clint said.

  They left the hotel and started walking down the street. As they passed people, they were stared at. Ten Sleep was a small town, and the word had already gotten around.

  “Are they looking at me or you?” Emrys asked.

  “I’m going to bet on you,” Clint said.

  “But you’re the one who’s famous.”

  “Not a lot of people know me on sight,” Clint said. “But you rolled in today with that wagon, with three dead men in the back. And that hat . . .”

  Emrys touched his derby and said, “What’s wrong with my hat?”

  “It’s a little . . . different.”

  “And that’s bad?” Emrys asked. “I thought this was what was worn in this time.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I mean, in the West.”

  “Well,” I said, “it’s real popular in the East, but not so much in the West.”

  Emrys frowned.

  “How could my information have been so wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” Clint said, even though it seemed the man was asking himself the question. “Here’s a café, probably as good as any.”

  They crossed the street and went inside.

  • • •

  Morley saw the two strangers entered the café. He took up a position across the street, and watched while he tried to decide who he could bring in on this deal.

  • • •

  They sat at a back table and, under the watchful eye of the other diners, ordered steak dinners from the waiter.

  “Can you make all these people disappear?” Clint asked.

  “No, but maybe you can,” Emrys said.

  “I meant bloodlessly.”

  “Oh.”

  “Where are you from, Emrys?”

  “Someplace far away,” the magician said.

  “In the East?”

  “Farther.”

  “Europe?”

  Emrys thought about that, then said, “Yes, Great Britain.”

  “How long have you been in this country?”

  “Not long.”

  “You don’t have much of an accent.”

  “I’m a fast learner.”

  “What are your intentions?”

  “Just to travel around, entertaining people,” Emrys said. “I have had vast responsibilities for a very long time. Now I just want to relax.”

  “And do magic tricks?”

  “It is a way to make a living.”

  “Traveling is a good way to relax,” Clint said. “I do it myself.”

  “Is that what you are doing now?” Emrys asked. “Traveling aimlessly?”

  “That’s it.”

  “So then you are in no hurry to leave?”

  “This town?” Clint asked. “There doesn’t seem to be much here.”

  “No, I mean leave me.”

  “Why? What did you have in mind?”

  “I could use some company,” Emrys said. “I have been talking to my horse for weeks. He doesn’t answer.”

  Clint laughed.

  “Also, I could use a guide. As you say, I have been traveling aimlessly. Perhaps, with your help, I can get to larger towns where I could make more money for my performances.” Emrys hesitated, then added, “I could pay you.”

  Clint thought about the offer and said, “This is something we can keep talking about while we eat.”

  “Excellent,” Emrys said.

  They talked over two delicious steaks, continued over coffee and pie.

  “You know,” Clint said, “I can see my way clear to traveling with you for a while.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Emrys said.

  “And you won’t have to pay me,” Clint said. “It’ll be fun for me to watch you work.”

  “I won’t be able to show you how any of my magic is done,” Emrys warned.

  “That’s okay,” Clint said. “It might even be more fun that way.”

  SIX

  “Speaking of tricks . . .” Clint said before they left the café.

  “What about them?”

  “I saw those three laying in wait for you, and I couldn’t get down there in time,” Clint said. “I thought you were as good as dead—especially when I saw you on the ground, unarmed, and they had their guns out.”

  Emrys waited.

  “Where did the guns come from?”

  “What guns?”

  “The guns you used to kill them.”

  Emrys finished the last bite of pie on his plate, pushed it away from him. He sat back in his chair and stared at Clint.

  “We have already established that I will not be showing you how my tricks work.”

  “So it was a trick,” Clint said. “Some kind of . . . what? Sleight of hand?”

  “Magic,” Emrys said.

  “Real magic,” Clint said.

  Emrys shrugged.

  “Is there any other kind?”

  “Okay,” Clint said, “so you’re not going to tell me where the guns came from.”

  “No.”

  “Fair enough.”

  They settled their bill and walked outside. Clint stopped Emrys right there on the boardwalk, putting his hand on the other man’s arm.

  “What is it?” the magician asked.

  “We’re being watched.”

  “Yes,” Emrys said, “by everyone.”

  “No, I mean specifically,” Clint said. “He followed us to the café.”

  “One man?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are the Gunsmith,” Emrys said. “You don’t worry about one man, do you?”

  “I worry about everybody,” Clint said. “That’s how I’ve managed to stay alive this long.”

  “I thought perhaps,” Emrys said, “it was magic.”

  “Right. Let’s just be aware as we walk.”

  “And where are we walking to?”

  “I thought we might have a drink,” Clint said. “Then turn in and get an early start in the morning.”

  “To go where?”

  “To your next show.”

  “And where will that be?”

  “I don’t know,” Clint said. “I’ll have to think about it and tell you in the morning.”

  “Then I think a drink sounds good.”

  • • •

  They found the nearest saloon and, once again, attracted attention when they entered.

  “The entire town must have seen us ride in,” Emrys said as they moved to the bar.

  “Or word has gotten around,” Clint said. “Some of these men might have known the dead man. That might be why we’re being followed.”

  “By a friend of theirs, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “So someone will be looking for vengeance.”

  “Somebody usually is.” Clint signaled to the bartender, who reluctantly came over. “Two beers.”

  The bartender’s reluctance continued as he drew the beers and set them down in front of Clint and Emrys.

  “Thanks,” Clint said.

  They both drank half their mugs down and set them on the bar.

  “It’s probably not a good idea for you to be walking around unarmed,” Clint said.

  “I do not carry guns.”

  “But you’re so good with them.”

  “Not really.”

  “I saw you shoot, Emrys,” Clint said. “You killed three men who already had their guns out. That’s the stuff of legends in the West.”

  “Then you must keep what you saw to yourself,” Emrys said. “I have no desire to be a legend.”

  “Well,” Clint said, “I can’t say I blame you for that.”

  “I have known men who were said to be legends,” Emrys said. “It is a heavy title to carry. You know that better than most men.”

  “I do,” Clint said. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

  “Thank you.”

  At that moment the batwings opened and the sheriff walked in.

  “However,” Clint said, “I don’t know if the sheriff will do the same.”

  Emrys turned and looked at the lawman, who saw them and started over.

  “It looks like we are about to find out.”

  SEVEN

  “Gents,” the lawman said.

  “Sheriff,” Clint said.

  Emrys simply nodded.

  “Beer, Sheriff?” Clint asked.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” the sheriff said.

  “I don’t think we caught your name, Sheriff,” Clint said as he waved to the bartender.

  “Carlyle,” the lawman said, accepting a beer from the bartender with a nod. “Sheriff Don Carlyle.”

  “Well, Sheriff Carlyle,” Clint said, “did you get the dead men situated?”

  “They have no family around here,” the lawman said. “They’ll be buried on boot hill, no headstones, just a marker.”

  “It is all they deserve,” Emrys said.

  “I suppose you’d feel that way since they tried to rob you,” Carlyle said. “I just think there should always be something to mark the fact that a man was here.”

  “A good man should be remembered,” Emrys said.

  “I’m wondering,” the sheriff said to Emrys, “how you managed to kill three men who had the drop on you.”

  “It was either luck,” Emrys said, “or magic.”

  The sheriff laughed.

  “Magic?”

  “Almost everything I do involves magic, Sheriff,” Emrys said.

  “Like putting flowers in my holster?” Carlyle said. “That was . . . trickery.”

  “Tricks, magic,” Clint said. “Sounds like the same thing to me.”

  “Don’t tell me a man like you believes in this magic nonsense?” the lawman asked.

  “I don’t know,” Clint said. “I just like to keep an open mind.”

  “So do I,” Carlyle said, “but not that open.” He drank his beer down, set the empty mug on the bar. “I wanna warn you two. Those fellas did have some friends around town. I’d be careful.”

  “Appreciate the warning, Sheriff,” Clint said, “but if there’s one thing I always am, it’s careful.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Besides,” Clint said, “we’ll be leaving town in the morning.”

  “That’s good,” the sheriff said. “I don’t need no trouble here.”

  “I am not looking for trouble, Sheriff,” Emrys said, “I assure you.”

  “Yeah, you wasn’t lookin’ for it out there either, and it found you,” Carlyle said. “Just watch yourself while you’re in my town.”

  Emrys said, “Thank you for the concern,” but the sheriff was out the door before he could hear it.

  Clint and Emrys looked at each other, then looked around the saloon. They were still drawing stares from most of the customers, as well as the girls who were working the floor.

  “Let’s finish up our beers,” Clint said.

  Emrys nodded.

  • • •

  Harriet—who everyone called “Harry”—and Diane were two of the four girls working the floor of the crowded saloon.

  “Which one do you want?” Diane asked.

  “I want the cute one with the magic,” Harry said. “I want him to do some magic on me.”

  “Good, ’cause I want the Gunsmith. I ain’t never been with anybody like him before.”

  “What if they don’t wanna be with us?” Harry asked.

  “Two beautiful young gals like us?” Diane asked. “What kind of man would turn all this down?”

  “How do we do it?” Harry asked.

  “Just follow my lead.”

  • • •

  Clint and Emrys were finishing their beers when the two girls sidled up alongside them.

  “Hello,” Diane said.

  Emrys looked at both girls, said, “Hello, fair ladies.”

  “Girls,” Clint said.

  “You fellas plan on bein’ in town long?” the blond Diane asked.

  “Not long at all,” Emrys said. “In fact, we will be leaving your fair town tomorrow.”

  “‘Fair town,’” brown-haired Harry said. “You’re so cute.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “It would be a shame for you fellas to spend your only night in town alone,” Diane said.

  “So I guess we’ll just volunteer to keep you company,” Harry said.

  “That is very kind of you,” Emrys said.

  “I don’t think we have the money—” Clint said, but Diane cut him off.

  “We ain’t lookin’ for any money,” she said, pressing her hip up against Clint’s. “Just company.”

  “Where are you sayin’, cutie?” Harry asked Emrys.

  “We are at the hotel just down the street.”

  “Good,” she said. “I’ll see you later.” She hip-bumped him and walked away.

  “After work,” Diane told them, and did the same to Clint before moving off.