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

said.
    â€œI guess I can send a few telegrams, then,” Dockery said. “Got time for a steak?”
    â€œAs soon as the kid gets here,” Clint said. “He’s meeting me here.”
    â€œGreat,” Dockery said. “What kind of lawman is he?”
    â€œThe kind who’s still learning,” Clint said. “The kind who wants to learn.”
    â€œWell then,” Dockery said, “I guess he couldn’t be ridin’ with a better man, could he?”
    â€œWell,” Clint said, “I guess he could do worse.”

TWENTY-THREE
    â€œWant some coffee?” Dockery asked.
    â€œYou still making it weak?”
    â€œNaw,” Dockery said, “I finally learned how to make real coffee.”
    He went to the stove and came back with two cups and the pot. When he poured it out, it was black as sludge.
    â€œLooks good,” Clint said.
    Dockery sat behind his desk just as the door opened and Starkweather walked in.
    â€œSheriff Dan Starkweather,” Clint said, “this is Sheriff Tom Dockery.”
    â€œGlad to meet you, Sheriff,” Starkweather said.
    Dockery shook hands with Starkweather, and the badge caught his eye.
    â€œAn iron badge,” Dockery said. “That sounds like a good idea.”
    Starkweather looked at Clint.
    â€œI didn’t mention it,” he said, spreading his hands.
    â€œDoes it get heavy?” Dockery asked.
    â€œSometimes.”
    â€œWell,” Dockery said, “I guess they all get heavy, sometime. Come on, who wants a steak?”
    â€œI want a thick one,” Starkweather said.
    â€œMe, too,” Clint said.
    â€œGood,” Dockery said, grabbing his hat. “Follow me.”
    Â 
    Dockery led them to a nearby restaurant.
    â€œBest place in town to eat,” he said. “Only opened a few months ago. I know the owner.”
    When they walked in, a handsome woman with blond hair came walking over with a smile on her face. The smile transformed her, made her beautiful.
    â€œThanks for bringing me more customers, Tom,” she said.
    â€œJustine Thorn, this is my friend Clint Adams and his friend Dan Starkweather.”
    â€œI’m happy to meet you both,” Justine said.
    â€œThe place looks busy,” Dockery said.
    â€œAlways a table for the law, Tom,” she said. “Come on.”
    She showed them to a table in the rear.
    â€œEnjoy your dinners. Take my advice and have the steak.”
    â€œThat’s what we’re here for, Justine,” Dockery said.
    â€œWelcome to town, gents,” she said. “Your waiter will be right with you.”
    â€œDid Clint tell you who I am?” Starkweather asked.
    â€œSure,” Dockery said. “Who you are and what you’re doin’.”
    â€œCan you help?”
    â€œTom’s going to send some telegrams to other lawmen in Arizona, to see if anyone has seen Nate and his boys.”
    â€œBut they’re not wanted in Arizona,” Starkweather said. “We already know that.”
    â€œThat doesn’t mean they’re not known,” Dockery said. “Maybe somebody saw them. That would point you in a direction.”
    The waiter came over and Dockery ordered three steak dinners and three beers. Starkweather remained silent while the two old friends caught up.
    When the waiter came with their steaks, they all remained quiet while they attacked their meals. Halfway through, Justine came over to see how they were.
    â€œSit with us awhile,” Dockery said.
    â€œWell,” she said, “Just until I’m needed elsewhere.”
    She sat across from Dockery, between Clint and Starkweather. She looked at Clint.
    â€œYou’re name is familiar to me,” she said. “Have we met?”
    â€œIf we had,” Clint said, “I’d remember.”
    â€œHe’s Clint Adams, the Gunsmith,” Starkweather said. “You must have heard of him.”
    â€œThe