The Ballard was twice the size of the hotel Clint was staying in. Big Al had apparently taken a suite that covered half of the third floor.
When they reached the door, Robards opened it without a key and led the way in. Clint found himself in an expensively furnished room, with heavy curtains and comfortable-looking furniture.
“I’ll get the boss,” Robards said.
“Sure.”
The foreman left the room and came back moments later with the tall, white-haired man.
“Mr. Adams? I’m Al Henry.”
“Big Al Henry, right?” Clint asked as they shook hands.
“That’s not something I call myself,” Henry said. “What about you and ‘the Gunsmith’?”
“It’s the same with me.”
“Then you can just call me Al.”
“Fine,” Clint said, “I’m Clint.”
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Your foreman said something about sippin’ whiskey.”
“From Kentucky,” Henry said. “Have a seat and I’ll get you a glass.”
Clint noticed that the man poured a glass for Clint and for himself, but not for the foreman.
“What about Mr. Robards?” Clint asked as Henry handed him the glass.
“Oh, sure,” Henry said. “Pour yourself a glass, Dan.”
“Thanks,” Robards said, more to Clint than to his boss.
Clint had chosen an armchair. So Al Henry sat on the overstuffed sofa. Robards, glass in hand, remained standing.
“I suppose you’ve been in town long enough to hear what’s been going on?” Henry asked.
“About your son? Yes.”
“I understand you haven’t been real interested.”
“No offense,” Clint said, “but I’ve just been minding my own business.”
“What if I asked you to make this your business?” Al Henry asked. “What if I offered to pay you to make it your business?”
“Then I’d have to ask you, how?” Clint asked. “What do you have in mind?”
“Actually,” Big Al said, “I gotta tell you, I don’t know yet. I just heard you were in town, and thought I should try to get you on my side.”
“Instead of whose side?” Clint asked. “The law?”
“Judge Miller!” Henry said with distaste. “He thinks he’s the law in this town, but he’s not.”
“Who is?” Clint asked. “You?”
“Of course not,” Henry said. “The law is the law. Miller can’t just interpret it the way he wants to.”
“Well, maybe he can,” Clint said. “After all, he is the judge.”
“Well, he’s not gonna railroad my son into prison,” Henry said. “Jason could not have killed Ed Collins.”
“Sounds like you need a detective,” Clint said.
“We don’t have a detective in town,” Henry said, “and Miller’s gonna push this through too quickly for me to bring somebody in. If I’m right about your background, you used to be a lawman.”
“Many, many years ago,” Clint said.
“Will you do it?” Henry asked. “Will you try to prove my son innocent?”
“I’m not a detective,” Clint said, even though he had often worked with his friend Talbot Roper, who was possibly the best private detective in the country.
“I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to try,” Al Henry said, “and another ten thousand if you succeed.”
Twenty thousand dollars was powerful incentive, and if he accepted, it would be a job, not just him poking his nose into somebody else’s business. And at least Big Al Henry wasn’t offering him the money to try to break his son out of jail.
Clint sipped his whiskey.
“I tell you what,” Henry said. “Take ’til morning to make up your mind. Come back here and have breakfast with me. They have an excellent dining room here. You can give me your answer then.”
Clint set his empty glass down on a nearby table and stood up.
“I can do that, Al.”
Henry stood up and the two men shook hands. As Clint headed for the door, Robards started to go with him. Clint held out his hand.
“I can find my way out of the hotel,” he said. “Good night.”
“Good night, sir,” Henry said.
* * *
After Clint left, Robards turned to his boss.
“I thought you were going to offer him money to break Jason out,” he said.
“I was,” Henry said, “but I think this is better.”
“How? He’s not a detective.”
“I’m still working on that,” Henry said. “If he takes the job, he could be a distraction for both the sheriff and Miller.”
“While we break him out?”
“Maybe,” Henry said, “in the end I can get him to break Jason out if we have to. But I’ll decide that later.”
“We don’t have much time,” Robards reminded him.
“I know that,” Big Al said, “but we can at least take tonight. You go back to the ranch tonight, make sure everything is all right there.”
“And what do I tell Mrs. Henry?”
“Nothing,” Henry said. “Just tell her I got busy and had to stay in town.”
“Yes sir.”
“Nothing more than that, Dan.”
“Yessir.”
“And I’ll see you in the morning, after I have breakfast with Adams.”
“I’ll be here.”
Henry slapped his foreman on the back and saw him to the door.