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know him.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Canby said. “Who did he send to spy on us?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Clint said, “but I’m told he has hired guns working for him.”
    â€œWhat do hired guns have to do with the Kentucky Derby?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Clint said. “Have you ever heard of a man named Blacker?”
    â€œJust Blacker?”
    â€œThat’s all I have.”
    â€œI’ve never heard—wait. Blacker? Maybe I have heard the name, but I don’t know him.”
    â€œYour friend, the sheriff, told me Blacker’s dangerous.”
    â€œDangerous as you?”
    â€œHackett said nobody wants to cross Fontaine, not even me.”
    â€œFontaine’s not a gunman,” Canby said. “So he needs hired guns with him.”
    â€œAnd Blacker is probably the best.”
    â€œBut you’ve never heard of him?”
    â€œI haven’t heard of every fast gun alive, Ben,” Clint said. “Some of them go undiscovered, you know. Just like a bunch of fast horses go unknown.”
    â€œWell,” Canby said, “after the Derby everyone’s gonna know the name ‘Whirlwind.’”
    â€œYou hope.”
    â€œClint,” Canby said, “I get the feeling you haven’t been listening to me. I know my horse is gonna win.”
    â€œHow much are you going to bet on him, Ben?” Clint asked.
    â€œA lot,” Canby said. “Whatever I can raise.”
    â€œWait a minute,” Clint said. “You’re going to go all in on this?”
    â€œAll in,” Canby said. “Definitely.”
    * * *
    After supper Clint and Canby went out onto the porch with cigars.
    â€œWhat are you gonna do tomorrow?” Canby asked.
    â€œI’m going to see Fontaine.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œBecause I want to know what’s going on.”
    â€œDon’t tell him about Whirlwind,” Canby said.
    â€œBen, I think he knows about Whirlwind.”
    â€œI mean, don’t tell him what I said about Whirlwind,” Canby said. “I mean, that he’s definitely gonna win.”
    â€œYou don’t want Fontaine to make a winning bet.”
    â€œNo, I don’t.”
    â€œI’ll tell you something,” Clint said. “If Fontaine is having Whirlwind watched, I’ll bet he’s having those other horses watched, too.”
    â€œEasy Going and Sunday Song?”
    â€œRight, those two. Don’t you think one of those two might win?”
    â€œThey might,” Canby said, “but they ain’t.”
    â€œHow can you be so sure?” Clint asked.
    â€œClint,” Canby said, “I’ve been around horses all my life. Believe me when I tell you, this one just won’t lose.”

TWENTY-TWO
    In the morning, after breakfast, Clint went to the barn to saddle Eclipse. He was going to ride directly to Fontaine’s and confront him.
    He was tightening the cinch on the saddle when Davy Flores walked in.
    â€œGood morning,” he said.
    â€œWhat did you do to Alicia?” the little man asked.
    â€œWhat? I didn’t do anything to her.”
    â€œShe won’t talk to me.”
    â€œWell,” Clint said, “maybe that’s because of something you did.”
    Flores pointed his finger at Clint.
    â€œIf you did anything to hurt her—”
    â€œDon’t make threats, little man,” Clint said. “You’re not big enough to back them up.” He didn’t like Flores, so there was no point in going easy on him.
    â€œThis is a nice horse,” Flores said.
    â€œYes, he is.”
    â€œBe a shame if something happened to him.”
    Flores didn’t have a chance to move. Clint grabbed him by the front of the shirt with his left hand, bunched it up, and lifted the man off his feet, then drew his gun with his right. He put the barrel of the gun under the small man’s chin.
    â€œIf