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Rick Hartman, both saying the same thing. They didn’t know anything about a price being put out on Clint’s head. That meant if it had been done, it had been done privately.
    He pocketed the telegrams, then continued on to the telegraph office.
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    â€œYou got more you wanna send?” the clerk asked as he entered.
    â€œNo,” Clint said, handing him the slip he’d found in the room at the boardinghouse. “I want to know if this telegram was sent yesterday or today.”
    The clerk took it and read it.
    â€œOh yeah, I sent this.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œYesterday afternoon.”
    â€œWas there a reply?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhere did you send it to?”
    The clerk thought a moment then said, “Kirby.”
    â€œKirby, Texas?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œNot Orwell?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAnd who did he sent it to?”
    â€œI don’t remember.”
    â€œDon’t you have it written down somewhere?”
    â€œWell,” the clerk said, scratching his head, “I got it around here someplace.”
    â€œCan you look for it?” Clint asked.
    â€œIt might take a while.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” Clint said.
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    From the telegraph office, Clint headed back to Doc Martin’s office, after all. He needed to find out if he could ride Eclipse without doing any damage to the animal. If he was okay to ride, then Clint would be leaving for Orwell first thing in the morning. Hopefully, before then he’d have the name of the man Derrick Sands had sent a telegram to, and then he’d likely have the names of both of the men who had tried to kill him.
    But first he had to make sure he had a horse, even if he had to rent one.

THIRTEEN
    â€œBack so soon?” Doc Martin asked as he let Clint in.
    â€œSomething’s come up,” Clint explained.
    â€œOh? What’s that?”
    â€œI have to ride tomorrow,” Clint said. “Can Eclipse travel?”
    â€œHow far?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Clint said. “How far is Orwell?”
    â€œToo far,” Martin said. “That wound could open up and fester.”
    â€œI thought it wasn’t bad.”
    â€œIt’s not,” Martin said, “and I’d like to keep it that way.”
    â€œAll right,” Clint said. “I’ll have to rent a horse.”
    â€œSo you’ll be back?”
    â€œOf course,” Clint said. “I’m not going to leave my horse here for good.”
    â€œNo, of course not.”
    At that moment Andrea came walking in, carrying a basin and some bottles.
    â€œOh, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
    â€œJust came by to ask a question,” Clint said, “and I got my answer.”
    â€œWhat question?”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Clint said, “your father can tell you. I’ve got a lot to do.”
    â€œHow long will you be gone?” Martin asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Clint said. “A day or two maybe.”
    â€œWell,” Martin said, “we’ll take good care of your horse while you’re gone.”
    â€œThank you,” Clint said. He looked at Andrea and said again, “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
    He turned and went out the door. Andrea looked at her father, but he only shrugged.
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    â€œSands?” Sheriff Ingram asked.
    â€œYes, Derrick Sands. Ever heard of him?”
    â€œNo, can’t say I have.”
    â€œHe had a room at Mrs. Nunally’s boardinghouse,” she said. “I think he was one of the men who tried to bushwhack me.”
    â€œWhat was he doing here in town?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œAnd you think he’s meeting the other one in Orwell?” the lawman asked.
    â€œAccording to his telegram,” Clint said, “he’s meeting somebody