Clint found he was able to cover all of the public entrances with the Cherokee at his disposal. There were others that were available to owners, trainers, and jockeys, as well as employees of the track, but he felt the robbers would probably get in through the public entries.
“All right,” he said, “now we know where to be tomorrow.”
They all nodded.
“Sun Horse,” he said, “I expect you to keep them sober ’til then.”
“They do not drink when they are working,” Sun Horse said. “Just like me.”
“Okay, then,” Clint said. “I’ll meet you all right out here. Let’s make it the beginning of the racing day.”
“As you say,” Sun Horse said. “What will you be doing until then?”
“There’s somebody I want to see,” Clint answered. “I’m thinking I might be able to cut this off at the source. If not, I’ll see you all here tomorrow.”
Sun Horse nodded, and they went their separate ways. Clint hoped the others were as trustworthy as John Sun Horse.
* * *
Clint rode out to Fontaine’s place. If he could convince the man to call the robbery off, it might save a lot of trouble, and lives.
He reined in Eclipse in front of the house and dismounted. No one was around as he mounted the steps to the door. He started to knock when he saw that the door was ajar. He pushed it open and entered.
“Hello?”
No answer.
“Anyone here?”
Still no answer.
Was the house deserted?
He went to Fontaine’s office, found it empty. Then he searched the second floor. And found nothing.
Fontaine was gone.
But the question was, had he gone willingly? Perhaps into hiding until the robbery was over? Or had he been taken? And if so, by whom? And for what purpose?
Clint took another walk through the house. There was no signs of a struggle, no blood. Fontaine and Gage were both gone, but the closets in the bedrooms were still full of clothes.
He turned and went out the front door.
* * *
Fontaine opened the door of the small house and went inside.
“I haven’t been here in many years,” he said. “Smells musty.”
“I’ll air it out,” Gage said. “How long will we have to stay here?”
“Just a few days,” Fontaine said. “There are supplies in the root cellar.”
“I’ll take a look, see how much there is,” Gage said.
Fontaine nodded. This was where they would live until the job was done, and for some time after. Adams wouldn’t be able to find him here. Of course, that was if Adams managed to avoid being killed by Blacker—which he hoped would not be the case.
Gage went around the small house, opening the windows and the shutters. The inside of the house immediately felt better, less stuffy.
“How will we know for sure when it’s over?” Gage asked.
“Blacker knows where we are,” Fontaine said. “He’ll tell us.”
Gage turned and faced his boss. He’d been working for Fontaine for many years, since they were both younger men. He had an almost fatherly concern for the man, as well as a paternal pride.
“What if he doesn’t?” Gage asked. “What if he has other ideas?”
“You mean, what if Blacker double-crosses us?” Fontaine asked.
“Yes.”
The younger man seemed to give that some thought before answering.
“Well,” Fontaine said, “I guess we’ll just have to trust him.”
“Who are you kidding, Peter?” Gage asked with a snort of derision. “You don’t trust anybody.”
“That’s not true, Gage,” Fontaine said. “I trust you.”
The older man gave him a long look.
“Well,” Fontaine said, “I trust you as much as I trust anyone.”