“I’ll go back to the house,” Clint said, “let you work with your horse.”
“I’ll be along soon,” Canby said.
“If I don’t see you, I’ll be getting an early start tomor-row morning,” Clint told him. “I’ve got to get to that track early.”
“So will we,” Canby said. “We’ll ride together.”
“That suits me,” Clint said.
He walked to the door of the barn, then stopped.
“What is it?” Canby asked.
“Listen.”
Canby came up next to him, and they both stood there listening.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“I know,” Clint said. “No crickets, or birds. Nothing.”
“Yeah,” Canby said. “That’s odd.”
“Something’s out there,” Clint said.
“Wolf?” Canby asked. “Big cat?”
“Something,” Clint said, “or somebody.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m going out the back,” Clint said. “You stay in here, keep an eye on your horse.”
“You think somebody’s after Whirlwind?” Canby asked.
“Him,” Clint said, “or me.”
* * *
Blacker kept his eyes glued to the front of the barn. They must have been in there getting the horse ready for travel. Adams had to come out sometime. He wasn’t doing anybody any good in there. Canby and his groom could handle the horse.
Where was he?
* * *
Clint went out the back door of the barn, worked his way around to one side. There were some horses in the corral. If there was a wolf or a cat out there, they’d smell it. They were too calm. To him, that meant only one thing.
There was a man out there, in the dark.
Waiting.
He looked around for a likely place for a man to hide. There were a few, but only hiding in the copse of trees beyond the corral would silence the insects.
He moved back to the rear of the barn, then worked his way around the corral until he was behind those trees. Despite a bright moon, it was too dark to read sign in the ground, but if there was a man in those trees, he would leave his horse farther down the trail.
Clint scouted a few hundred yards, almost quit when suddenly he heard something. Sounded like a horse nickering. He stood still, listened, heard it again, and followed it. He found a good-sized steeldust tied to a tree. He went through the saddlebags, found an extra shirt, a gun, bullets, and a letter sent care of General Delivery, Louisville. It was addressed to a man named Lucifer Blacker. No wonder he only went by his last name.
Now Clint had two choices. Wait for Blacker to get tired and come back to his horse, or go into those trees after him.
It all depended on the patience a man like Blacker had. Also, how determined he was to get rid of Clint before race day.
Clint decided to go in after him, just in case Blacker got itchy and shot the wrong man—such as Canby.
He headed back to the barn area.
* * *
“What do you think he’s doing?” the groom, Frank, asked Canby.
“I don’t know,” Canby said. “It’s still too quiet out there.”
“Well, we’re all done in here,” Frank said. “When are we gonna leave?”
“Might be a man with a gun out there, Frank,” Canby said. “If you want to go out, go on ahead.”
Frank looked at the door nervously, then said, “Naw, I guess I’ll wait.”
“Good,” Canby said, “then we’ll just wait together.”
* * *
Blacker saw some shadows just inside the door of the barn. It looked like two men, maybe getting ready to come out. He drew his gun, cradled it in both hands for a moment.
“Come on out, Gunsmith,” he said to himself in low tones. “Come on out and get what’s waiting for you.”
“Maybe,” Clint said from behind him, “you should step out of there and get what’s coming to you, Mr. Blacker.”
Blacker froze.