After Clint agreed to ride out to Restin’s ranch to meet this daughter and have supper, he walked to his young lawyer’s office on one of the town’s side streets.
“You’re out,” the young lawyer said happily as Clint entered his small, cramped office.
“I’m out,” Clint said. He looked around for a place to sit.
Barkley got up from his desk to move some files from a chair so Clint could sit.
“I was under the impression you didn’t have a lot of cases,” he said, looking around at the clutter.
“Not like yours,” Barkley said. “Most of this is just filing, lots paperwork. Your case is different. Did you meet with Mr. Restin?”
“Yes,” Clint said. “I accepted his job, for five thousand dollars.”
“Delivering his daughter to the University in Sacramento?” Barkley asked.
“Yes.”
“Good,” the lawyer said. “When do you leave?”
“I don’t know,” Clint said. “I’m supposed to go out to his ranch tonight for supper and meet the girl.”
“I understand she’s … difficult.”
“That’s what he said. Have you met her?”
“I’ve seen her, but I haven’t met her,” Barkley said. “She’s a lovely girl.”
“I’ve heard that, too. Do you know if she has a boyfriend in town?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“Maybe one of her father’s hands? Or gunnies?”
“Nope. Unless she’s doing it on the sly.”
Clint sat back in his chair.
“What’s bothering you?”
“I just don’t think I’m being told the whole truth,” Clint said. “Why does this girl need to be escorted to Sacramento? Is somebody going to try to stop her?”
“Don’t you think he’d tell you that?”
“I think he should tell me that,” Clint answered, “but maybe he’s not.”
“Maybe you should take somebody with you,” the lawyer said. “You know, somebody to watch your back.”
“Are you volunteering?”
“Me?” The lawyer shook his head. “I can’t shoot, and I’d never be able to stay in the saddle all the way to Sacramento.”
“I don’t know anybody else in town.”
“You can’t hire somebody for that job?”
“I can’t have somebody watching my back if I don’t know them.”
“I guess I can see that.”
“But I might be able to get somebody to meet me somewhere along the way. But I’ll have to send some telegrams.”
“Meanwhile,” Eugene Barkley said, “I’ll be working on your case, trying to make sure Restin can’t go back on your deal.”
“You’ll need some money,” Clint said.
“Yes, I will.”
“I’ll have to go to the bank first thing in the morning.”
“You have money in the local bank?”
“I’ll have to send it by wire,” Clint said, “transferred into the bank in your name. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine,” Barkley said. “Money’s money.”
Clint stood up.
“I can send my telegrams now so it’ll be done by morning,” Clint said. “And maybe I can find myself some back-up.”
“I hope so,” Barkley said, standing. “Just come and see me in the morning and let me know what’s going on. And what happens at the Restin ranch tonight.”
“All right. Do you want to tell me where you live?”
“Right here, for now,” Barkley said. “It’s cheaper to live and work in the same place. For now.”
Clint went looking for the telegraph office, found it on the main street. He sent several telegrams, only one of which was to a bank.
He told the clerk what hotel he was at.
“I’ll bring the replies over there, sir.”
Clint handed him some extra money and said, “As they come in, all right? Don’t wait for them all to come in so you can bring them at one time.”
“Yessir,” the clerk said, happily pocketing the extra money.
Clint left the telegraph office and went to the Drinkwater Saloon. He peered inside over the batwing doors, saw that nobody was there but Buck, the bartender. He went in.
Buck looked up from the bar in surprise, as if shocked that anyone would walk in off the street.
“You don’t do much business around here, do you?” Clint asked.
The man shrugged.
“I get paid whether I pour drinks or not.”
“Care to pour me one?”
“Sure.”
“Beer.”
Buck nodded, drew the beer and set it down in front of Clint.
“No charge, according to the boss.”
“The boss?”
“Mr. Restin owns this place.”
That didn’t surprise Clint.
“Figures.”
“Look, friend,” Buck said, “Want my advice?”
“Sure,” Clint said, “a bartender’s advice is always welcome.”
“Do the job, take the money, and don’t come anywhere near here again.”
“That does sound like good advice.” Clint drank down the beer. “Does your boss keep his word?”
“If it means money to him.”
“Otherwise?”
Buck shrugged.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Clint left the saloon and went to the livery to saddle Eclipse.
He had a supper to attend.