Vance Restin came out onto his front porch, wearing a gun on his hip. Two men turned to face him. Both wore guns on their own hips in worn holsters. Restin preferred to employ men whose guns looked used, rather than men with new guns and pristine leather holsters.
“You’re two of the new men?”
“Yessir.”
“What are your names?”
“Heath,” one of them said, “and this is Stiller.”
“You men know how to use those guns?”
“We do, sir,” Stiller said. Both men were in their late thirties, with several days of stubble on their faces.
“You’ve killed men before?”
The two men exchanged a glance and then Heath said, “That’s pretty much our job.”
“You’ve heard of the Gunsmith?”
“We sure have.”
“Not afraid to go up against him?”
“Lookin’ forward to it,” Heath said.
“Either of you ever seen him before?”
“I have,” Heath said.
“Good,” Restin said, “then you’ll recognize him.” He turned to go back inside, then stopped and turned back. “He won’t know you, will he?”
“Naw,” Heath said, “he never heard of us.”
“That’s good. What about the other new men?”
“Everybody knows how to shoot, Mr. Restin,” Heath said.
“And the more you pay,” Stiller said, with a grin, “the better we shoot.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Restin said.
“Mr. Restin,” Heath said, as the rancher started for the door, again.
“Yes?”
“If you don’t mind me sayin’ so,” the man said, “Adams will never come here.”
“Why not?”
“He’s no fool,” Heath said. “You have too many men.”
“You’re all here to keep me alive.”
“Yeah, but we could do that by killin’ him,” Stiller said. “And we can’t kill him if he don’t come here.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We think we should go and find him,” Heath said, “track him down.”
“Where would you start?”
“In town.”
“Why would he go to town?” Restin asked.
“Because,” Heath said, “he wouldn’t come here.”
Restin turned to squarely face the men.
“Why do I think you men weren’t out here on the porch by accident?”
“We weren’t,” Heath said. “We were waitin’ for you.”
“Why?”
“Stiller and I are the best guns you’ve got,” Heath said. “Keep the others here and let us go and find Adams.”
“We’ll kill him for you,” Stiller said.
“Just the two of you?”
“We have some other … friends,” Heath said.
“I sent four men after him,” Restin said, “and they never came back.”
“We’re six,” Stiller said, “and we’re better than they were.”
Restin thought a moment.
“If you men kill Adams,” he said, “I’ll triple what you were promised.”
“Not a problem, Mr. Restin,” Heath said, “but before we go we’ll needed a little more information from you.”
“Whatever you need,” Restin said, “just ask.”