Rhodes, Spenser and Banks were seated around the fire, drinking coffee and eating beef jerky for breakfast. Peterson allowed the coffee, but wouldn’t relent on bacon or beans.
He was standing off to one side, staring ahead of them when Rhodes stood and took a cup of coffee to him.
“Thanks.”
“What are you doin’?”
“Thinkin’.”
“About what?”
“The when, the where,” Peterson said.
“Why not how?”
“How would you do it?”
“Ride in on them and start shootin’.” Rhodes said.
“Adams would never let you get close enough,” Peterson said.
“Then what do you suggest?” Rhodes asked.
“That’s what I’m thinkin’ about,” Peterson said. “Why don’t you go back to the fire?”
Rhodes shrugged and walked away.
“What’s goin’ on with Dave?” Spenser asked.
“He says he’s thinkin’.”
“What about?”
“Adams and the girl.”
“That boy thinks too much,” Banks said. “Why don’t we just go—”
“I suggested that,” Rhodes said, cutting him off. “He says Adams would never let us get close enough.”
“He’s right,” Spenser said. “So leave the man alone and let him think.”
“Why not?” Banks said, with a shrug. “We got paid, and he’s the boss.”
Rhodes hunkered back down and poured himself another cup of coffee.
“I wouldn’t be Peterson for nothing,” Banks said.
“Why not?” Spenser asked. “He’s smart.”
“Like I said,” Banks answered, “that boy thinks way too much.”
“His head must hurt all the time,” Spenser said.
The three men laughed.
Abruptly, Peterson came storming over to the fire and tossed the remnants of his coffee into the flames.
“You guys can stop laughing, break camp and get mounted up.”
“You decide how you wanna play this, Dave?” Rhodes asked.
“I have,” Peterson said. “You three are gonna ride up ahead of them.”
“And what are you gonna do?”
“I’ll tell you about it as we saddle the horses …”