Clint woke in the morning, still unsure about whether or not to ride out to see Restin. He was, after all, a day or two away from leaving town for good. Why get involved in whatever Restin had in mind, because there was no way the man had asked him to come out to his ranch just to apologize. He had something on his mind.
After breakfast his curiosity got the better of him. He decided to saddle Eclipse and take a ride out to Restin’s spread. If nothing else was accomplished, the Darley Arabian would get some exercise.
He saddled Eclipse at the livery and asked the hostler for directions to the Restin spread.
“You better be careful out there,” the old man told him.
“Why’s that?”
“He not only has ranch hands, he’s also got gun hands working for him.” The man looked Clint up and down. “You ain’t lookin’ fer a job, are ya?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, just watch your back out there, is all I’m sayin’,” the man said. “Vance Restin is a hard man.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
He mounted up and rode out.
The Restin spread was called the Bar-VR, which Clint thought didn’t take a lot of imagination. Apparently, just two miles outside of town he crossed onto Restin land, but the house was still three miles beyond that.
He rode up to a two-story house – first story built of logs, and then the second floor added in rough-sawn lumber. There were some hands in the corral, working a good-looking stallion, and nobody paid any attention to him from that direction.
However, there were two men on the porch that he recognized as two of the four gunmen from the day before. They were leaning and sitting, and as he rode up they straightened, their hands hanging down by their guns.
“You boys should relax,” Clint said. “I’m here as an invited guest.”
“That so?” one asked.
“Yeah, it is,” Clint said. “Just ask him.”
“Don’t bother climbing down from that horse,” the other man said.
Clint wondered if this was a trap, but he didn’t sense that anyone was behind him, and he didn’t think these two would face him alone.
“Why don’t one of you run along inside and ask him,” Clint suggested.
“I’ll do that,” the first man said. “Just stay there.”
He went inside, leaving his partner to face Clint alone.
“Where are your other two friends?” Clint asked.
“They’re around.”
They had attracted some attention from the hands in the corral, but Clint still wasn’t sensing any danger to him from behind.
The other man came out of the house and said, “The boss said to let him go inside.”
Clint immediately dismounted.
“Don’t think we’re gonna take care of your horse,” the first man said.
“He’ll take care of himself,” Clint said. He went up the steps until he was on equal ground with the two men, then stopped and looked at them. “He just better still be there when I come out.”
He didn’t wait for a response, and entered the house.
Just inside the door he found the other two gunmen.
“Adams,” one of them said, “I’m Peterson. Mr. Restin is this way.”
Clint pointed at the other man.
“You’re the one who recognized me,” he said. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Stan Rhodes.”
“I don’t know you.”
“We’ve never met,” Rhodes said, “but I saw you once, a while back.”
“You wanna come this way?” Peterson asked. “The boss is waitin’.”
“Peterson,” Clint said. “And what’s your first name?”
“Dave,” Peterson said. “Don’t worry, we don’t know each other, and you never heard of me, either. You comin’?”
“Yeah,” Clint said, “I’m coming. Lead the way.”
Peterson took the lead and Rhodes followed behind, but Clint still didn’t feel he was in danger. His instincts on that were usually good.
He followed Peterson to an impressive office, a large room lined with books. Restin was seated behind a huge desk.
“Ah, Adams,” the rancher said, “I’m glad you decided to stop by. You don’t mind if Mr. Peterson and Mr. Rhodes stay with us, do you?”
“Not at all,” Clint said, then added, “if you feel you need them.”
“I’m sure a man like you understands about … precautions?” Restin asked. “Please, have a seat.”