Clint and Terry had been riding for about three days when Peterson and his men caught up to them, but it took only two days for them to get back.
On the outskirts of Festus, Clint reined Eclipse in, and Terry followed his example with her mare.
“Now what?” she asked.
“I don’t want your father to know we’re here,” he said, “even though I think he knows we’re coming.”
“How would he know that?”
“He’s sure to have made arrangements with Peterson to notify him when the job was done,” Clint said. “When he doesn’t hear from him after a few days, he’ll figure he and his men are dead.”
“So?”
“Once he thinks they failed, and that I killed them, he’ll be waiting for me to come back for him.”
“But he has plenty of men.”
“And he’ll probably hire some more to replace Peterson and his crew,” Clint said.
“So what do you want to do? Go to the ranch?”
“No,” Clint said, “that’d be riding into the lion’s den. I’m sure he’s got men watching for me.”
“What about me?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I could ride into the ranch,” she said. “Nobody’s going to stop me.”
“Terry, your father’s already tried to have you killed once,” Clint reminded her. “I know that, Clint,” she said, “but would he kill me right there at the ranch? If so, why didn’t he just do it before? Why send me to Sacramento to have me killed on the trail? Because he won’t do it at home.”
“Maybe.”
“I could ride in and tell him that you’re coming for him,” she said. “That would scare him.”
“Wait,” he said, “let me think about this. Maybe there’s another message I could send him.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Look, we need a place to hole up. Any ideas?”
“Actually, yes,” she said, smiling, “I do have one idea. Follow me.”
When Ray Owens knocked on Restin’s door the rancher looked up and snapped, “Well, come on in. Are you waiting for a special invitation?”
“Uh, no, boss.”
“What’ve you got?”
“I hired half a dozen guns,” Owens said.
“Are they good?”
“Best I could find in town,” Owens said. “Do we have time for me to look out of town?”
“I don’t know,” Restin said. “Send some telegrams and see what you can find.”
“Yes, sir. Uh, do you want to meet the new men?”
“No, I don’t want to meet them,” Restin said, “I just want them to keep me alive. Position them around the house.”
“Yessir.”
“And set up a watch. I want the road observed at all times.”
“Yessir.”
“And the back trail.”
“Yessir.”
“So get out and get it done!”
“Right, boss.”
As Owens left, Restin sat back in his chair and rubbed his face vigorously with both hands. Things were not going according to plan, at all.
Terry took Clint to a house standing alone in a meadow—or barely standing. It was obvious no one had lived there for a long time, and it was on the verge of falling down.
“What’s this place?” he asked.
“This is the house I was born in.”
Clint didn’t know what to say to that.
“My father would never dream of coming here,” she said. “He hates it. It reminds him that he had no money and had to depend on my mother’s in the beginning.”
They dismounted in front of the house. Close up it seemed a bit sturdier than Clint had first thought.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “it won’t cave in on us.”
They went through the front door and entered the dusty interior. There was no furniture, but they’d be able to put their bedrolls down with no problem.
“Okay,” he said, “this will do for a while.”
“What do you mean for a while?” she asked.
“Couple of days, maybe.”
“Why that long?”
“Your father’s going to be waiting for us to come back,” Clint said. “I’m thinking we let him wait a while longer, let him get nervous.”
“But in the end,” she asked, “how will you get to him?”
“I think,” Clint said, “we’ll have to get him to come to us.”