Heath had one of his men, Lincoln, go around back. When he returned he said, “Two horses, one a big Arabian.”
“That’s the Gunsmith’s horse.”
“Want me to shoot it?”
Heath glared at Lincoln.
“No, I don’t want you to shoot the horse! Is there a back door?”
“No.”
“Windows?”
“Yes.”
“Then take Harris and cover the back. Do not shoot that horse, do you understand?”
“Sure, Heath, sure.”
“Go!”
Clint saw two of the men split off from the rest, undoubtedly, to cover the back.
“Clint? What’s that mean?”
“It means they’ve got the front and back covered.” He looked around. There were no side windows.
“We’re trapped!” Terry said.
“Take it easy,” he said.
“How can you say that?”
“Because the perfect way to get killed is to panic,” he told her. “Who has more experience in these situations, Terry, me or you?”
“You, but—”
“So take a deep breath and relax,” Clint said. “I’m going to talk to whoever’s out there and find out just how bad a situation we really are in. Okay?”
“Okay.”
But before Clint could put his plan into practice, a voice from outside called, “Adams! Clint Adams!”
“What are we gonna do?” Stiller asked Heath. “By now he knows we’re here.”
“That’s fine,” Heath said. “Let’s see if we can get the Gunsmith to come outside and go out in a blaze of glory.” He turned away from Stiller and called out, “Adams! Clint Adams!”
“This is Clint Adams!” Clint called back. “Who am I talking to?”
“It doesn’t really matter,” the man called out. “You don’t know me, but my name is Heath.”
“You’re right,” Clint said. “I don’t know you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Heath said. “All you need to know is that there are six of us, and we’re here for you … and the girl.”
“Who hired you?” Clint asked. “Her Father?
“That doesn’t matter,” Heath said. “What matters is you’re in a bad situation. You can’t get out of there, unless we let you out.”
“And why would you do that?”
“So you can face us, and go out like a man,” Heath called. “Or, like a legend.”
“You can’t go out there,” Terry said to him.
“Shh,” he said. “Heath, what about the girl?”
“What about her?” Heath asked. “If you face us and win, she comes out alive.”
“And if you kill me?”
“Sorry,” Heath said, “but she’s part of the job.”
“Give me a minute to think about it.”
“That’s what you’ve got,” Heath said, “sixty seconds.”
Clint ducked down beneath the window, his back against the wall.
“You can’t really be considering this?” Terry said.
“What else can we do?”
“But … have you ever faced six men before?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It didn’t end well.”
“But … you’re still alive.”
“Just barely, after that.”
He skittered across the floor to his saddlebags, took out the Colt new Line.
“Even with two guns …” she said.
“Terry, we can shoot it out with them, but eventually they’ll come in. We’ll run out of ammo before they do, or this house will fall down around our ears.”
“Maybe,” she said, “maybe help will come.”
“From where?”
“I – I … don’t know.”
“Neither do I,” Clint said. “Look, you have to stay inside.”
“I can help.”
“If things go bad out there, I’ll need your help,” he said. “If I go down you just start shooting.”
“B-but, if they kill you …”
“I’m going to do my best to make sure they don’t,” he said. He knew if they killed him, she wouldn’t live much longer.
“Clint—”
“Just be ready to shoot,” he told her, and looked out the window again.