“Can I get you a drink? Or some coffee?”
“Nothing, thanks,” Clint said. “I’m here to find out what’s on your mind, Mr. Restin.”
“Right to the point,” Restin said. “Good. What’s on my mind, Mr. Adams, is a job.”
“A job?”
“A well-paying job.”
“Well,” Clint said, “I’m not a ranch hand, and …” he looked around. “ … I’m not a gun for hire.”
“No, no,” Restin said, “nothing like that, at all.”
“Then what?”
“My daughter, Terry, is supposed to go to Sacramento to attend college,” Restin said. “She doesn’t want to go.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty.”
“That seems old enough to make her own decisions.”
”No!” Restin said. “She’s my daughter, and I’ll make the decisions for her. She’s going to college to get a good education. After that she can do what she likes.”
“What does this all have to do with me?”
“Ah,” Restin said, with a smile, “you’re the man who’s going to see that she gets to Sacramento.”
“And how do I do that?”
“Easy,” Restin said, “you’re going to take her there.”
Clint was slightly stunned for a moment, then said simply, “No.”
“No?”
“Sorry,” Clint said. “I’m not a babysitter.”
“I didn’t think you were,” Restin assured him. “I was thinking of you as more of an … escort.”
“That’s not something I do either, Mr. Restin.”
“I’ll pay you a thousand dollars.”
“No.”
“Five thousand.”
“Sorry.”
Restin stood up angrily.
“I’m not used to being turned down, Adams.”
Clint stood.
“Then you better get used to it.”
Clint turned and headed for the door.
“Ten thousand!” Restin snapped.
Clint turned and said, “No.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I don’t work for men like you, Restin,” Clint said, “at any price.”
“Men like me?” Restin asked. “You mean rich and successful?”
“No,” Clint said, “I mean arrogant.”
Clint left the room and walked toward the front door.
“Boss?” Peterson said.
“Let him go,” Restin said. “I’ll just have to go to plan B.”
“Plan B?” Rhodes asked. “Why not just pay us to do it?”
“As if I’d trust my daughter to you animals,” Restin said. “No, I have something else in mind.”
“So whataya want us to do?” Peterson asked.
“For the time being,” Restin said, “nothing.”
“So just let him go?”
Restin nodded.
“That’s right,” he said. “Just let him go. Oh, and have my horse saddled.”
“Where are we goin’?” Peterson asked.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Restin said, “but I’m going into town.”
“You can’t go alone.”
“Nonsense,” Restin said. “You just go out front and make sure those other two idiots don’t do anything stupid.”
Clint went out the front door, ignored the two gunmen and walked down the steps to Eclipse, who hadn’t moved. He mounted up, turned the Darley Arabian and rode away from the house.
The two gunmen exchanged an anxious glance, and then the door opened and Peterson came out. Stan Rhodes followed him out.
“We just gonna let ’im go?” Hank Spenser asked.
“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”
“But … why?” Ted Banks demanded.
“Because that’s what the boss wants us to do,” Peterson said, “and he’s payin’ the bills.”
Banks looked at Spenser, who shrugged and said, “What the hell? When we do get a chance at him maybe it’ll be in town, where everybody can see.”
Banks thought about that and then said, “Yeah, okay, I guess so.”
“What’d the boss want with him?” Spenser asked.
“He offered him a job.”
“One of our jobs?” Banks asked.
“No,” Rhodes said, “somethin’ else.”
“And?” Spenser asked.
“Adams turned him down flat,” Peterson said, “three different times.”
“Ouch,” Spenser said, “I’ll bet Restin didn’t like that.”
“He kept offerin’ him more money,” Rhodes said, “got up to ten thousand.”
“What?” Banks said. “That’s more than we’re gettin’! What the hell—”
“Never mind,” Peterson said.
“Yeah,” Spenser said, “what’s the difference, if he turned it down. Maybe he’ll pay us the ten thousand.”
“I don’t know,” Peterson said. “He says he’s got another plan.”
“Like what?” Banks asked.
“That he didn’t say,” Rhodes said. “He’s goin’ into town. I gotta go and saddle his horse.”
“We goin’ with him?” Banks asked.
“No,” Rhodes said, on his way down the steps, “he’s goin’ alone!”
“Alone?” Banks asked, looking at Peterson.
“He just thinks he’s goin’ alone,” Peterson said. “After he mounts up and rides out you two go and saddle our horses – hurry!”
“We gonna follow him?” Banks asked.
“We’re gonna follow him,” Peterson said, nodding. “I’m not havin’ our meal ticket gettin’ shot.”