As they entered the diningroom together Vance Restin stood up from his place at the head of the table.
“Look who I found, Daddy.”
“Ah, there you are, Mr. Adams,” he said, expansively. “And you’ve met my Terry.”
“Yes, I have,” Clint said. “She seems like a lovely young woman.”
“She is, she is. Please, have a seat and we’ll start the meal. Terry?”
“Daddy likes me to sit at his right,” Terry said. “You should sit on his left.”
She released Clint’s arm and went to sit down. Her father held her chair for her, and then sat down himself. Clint walked around the table and sat on Restin’s left.
A woman came out of the kitchen carrying trays of food and set them down on the table. Clint had been served like this before, in other homes. But it had never made him this uncomfortable before.
“Go ahead, Mr. Adams,” Restin said. “Help yourself.”
“Yes, Mr. Adams,” Terry said, politely, “please.”
“Ladies first,” Clint said.
“Oh,” she said, “a gentleman.” She looked at her father. “What a nice change.”
Clint took a large chicken breast from the platter in the center of the table, then vegetables from each of the others. The food was delicious.
“You have a good cook,” he said.
“She’s the best,” Restin said, “and I pay her like the best.”
“Daddy pays all his people like the best,” Terry said. “Don’t you, Daddy?”
“I pay everyone what they’re worth,” the rancher said, filling his own plate, “and I expect them to earn every penny.”
“Like your foreman?”
“Ray? What do you know about him?”
“I met him out front.”
“Ray’s been with me a long time.”
“Is he in charge of all the men?” Clint asked. “The hands, the gunnies? Or just the hands?”
“Ray handles the day-to-day business of the ranch,” Restin said, “and that’s all.”
“Ray is Daddy’s right hand when it comes to the ranch,” she said. “For the other stuff he has Mr. Peterson.”
“Yes,” Clint said, “I’ve met Peterson, too. And his boys.”
“Now they,” Terry said, while chewing a small bite of chicken, “are not gentlemen.”
“Honey,” Restin said, “Mr. Adams—”
”Let’s call him Clint, Daddy,” Terry said. “Is that all right, Clint?”
“That’s fine, Terry.”
“All right, then,” Restin said, “Terry. Clint is here so you and he can get acquainted. You’ll be spending some time together between here and Sacramento. You should get to know each other.”
“And that’s what we’re doing,” she said, with a smile. “Getting to know each other. Aren’t we, Clint?”
“That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
“So tell me, Clint,” she asked, “how did you get to be a legend?”
“You don’t get to be a legend,” Clint said. “People just start calling you one.”
“And the name sticks?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And then … what?” she asked. “You have to start trying to live up to it?”
“That’s the general idea.”
“What a terrible place to live,” she said. “Men must be coming after you all the time, to make a name for themselves.”
“Men,” he said, “boys …”
“And you killed them?”
“Some of them.”
She looked at Restin.
“Daddy, do you think this is a good idea?”
“What’s that, honey?”
“Well, for me to travel with the Gunsmith?” she asked. “What if somebody comes after him to challenge him and shoots me by mistake?”
“I trust Clint to take very good care of you, Terry,” Restin said. “You’re not getting out of going to college that easily.”
“Ooooh!” she growled. She stood up and slammed her fist down on the tabletop, causing all the platters to jump and the gravy boat to spill. “I won’t go! You can’t make me …” she said, and then, pointing at Clint, “… and he can’t make me go, either!”
She stormed out of the dining room.
“Jeanette!” he called.
The middle-aged cook came from the kitchen and asked, “Yes, sir?”
Restin pointed to the upended gravy boat and said, “We need more gravy.”