Free The Man with the Iron Badge by J. R. Roberts

of the town’s two hotels, went in, and got two rooms.
    â€œYour friend the sheriff, he going to make a comment about my badge?”
    â€œProbably,” Clint said. “Hey, you knew what you were doing when you decided to wear an iron badge. If it bothers you, then start wearing tin.”
    Starkweather’s attitude had softened with each week they rode together. Lately, their relationship had become sort of big brother-little brother.
    â€œI’m not going to wear tin,” he muttered.
    â€œThen don’t complain when somebody makes a comment,” Clint said, flicking the iron badge with a fingernail.
    He handed Starkweather his key. “Take the horses over to the livery.”
    â€œIt’s your turn,” Starkweather argued.
    â€œNo, it’s your turn,” Clint said. “I did it last time.”
    â€œNo, I did it last time.”
    â€œYou sure? Go on,” Clint said. “Get going.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do?”
    â€œI’ll drop your gear off in your room for you, and then I’ll go and see Tom. You meet me at the sheriff’s office, and then we’ll get something to eat.”
    â€œOkay,” Starkweather said. “Fine. But if that monster of yours tries to bite me . . .”
    Actually, Starkweather and Eclipse had formed a good relationship. The big Darley hadn’t tried to bite him in weeks.
    Â 
    Clint walked into the sheriff’s office without knocking. Tom Dockery had his back to the door as he pinned some wanted poster to a board on the wall. He was wearing his gun.
    â€œBack to the door, Dock,” Clint said. “That’s not good.”
    â€œWhat are you talkin’ about?” Dockery said. “I knew you were in town before you even got off your horse.”
    â€œThat a fact?”
    Dockery turned around and grinned at Clint. The two men closed on each other and shook hands.
    â€œBeen a while,” Clint said.
    â€œYeah, what? Two years? Last time you were here?” Dockery asked.
    â€œWell, since you hardly ever leave this place, it’d have to be here, right?”
    â€œTown looks pretty good, right?” Dockery asked.
    â€œIt looks okay. And you look pretty good. Younger than when I last saw you, I think.”
    â€œHey, fifty is young,” Dockery said. He backed up a few feet. “You look fit. Still on the trail?”
    â€œStill riding.”
    â€œHeard you rode in with somebody.”
    â€œYeah, a kid named Dan Starkweather,” Clint said. “Wears a badge out of Kansas.”
    â€œStarkweather?” Dockery said. “Not kin to Nate Starkweather, is he?”
    â€œHis son.”
    â€œAnd he wears a badge?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWhat are you doing with him?”
    â€œHe’s trying to find his father.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œTo bring him in,” Clint said.
    Dockery looked surprised. “Why are you helping him?”
    â€œBecause he was smart enough to ask for help,” Clint said. “And if I don’t, he’ll end up dead.”
    â€œThat’s just like you, ain’t it?” Dockery asked. “Minding everybody else’s business.”
    â€œSeems like I minded yours once or twice.”
    â€œHey, I’m not complainin’,” the lawman said. “You saved my life enough times for me to be grateful you were mindin’ my business. So, what can I do for you? Far as I know Starkweather and his gang ain’t wanted in Arizona.”
    â€œNo, they’re not,” Clint said, “but maybe there’s some word about them being seen.”
    â€œI haven’t heard that from any other law in the state,” Dockery said.
    â€œMaybe you could send some telegrams?” Clint said. “Ask around?”
    â€œYou gonna be in town long enough to get the answers?” Dockery asked.
    â€œWe could use a couple of days on real beds,” Clint