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

Gunsmith,” she repeated. “Well, of course. What brings you to Fenton City, Mr. Adams?”
    â€œCall me Clint, please,” Clint said. “I came to see Dock. We’ve been friends for a while.”
    â€œOf course you have,” she said. “You must have worked together before.”
    â€œThat’s how it started,” Dockery said. “Then we became friends.”
    â€œAnd you?” she asked, looking at Starkweather. “You’re a little young to be a lawman, aren’t you?”
    â€œAge has nothing to do with it, miss,” Starkweather said. “It suits my purpose.”
    â€œAnd you’re learning from Clint?”
    â€œWe’re kind of learning from each other,” Clint said.
    â€œReally?” she asked. “Are there still some things the Gunsmith can learn from someone else?”
    â€œWe can always learn from someone else, Justine,” Clint said.
    â€œI’m impressed,” she said.
    â€œDon’t let the reputation fool you,” Dockery said. “It’s never the measure of a man.”
    â€œI’ll try to remember that,” she said. Suddenly, she looked past Clint. “Oh my, looks like an emergency in the kitchen. Excuse me.”
    She got up and left.
    â€œQuite a woman,” Clint said.
    â€œPretty,” Starkweather said. “Kind of old, though. Don’t you think?”
    â€œHey!” Dockery said. “She’s younger than me.”
    â€œHe’s twenty,” Clint said to Dockery. “I told you that.”
    Starkweather laughed—probably the first time Clint had heard him do that since they had met.
    Â 
    After supper Dockery told Clint he’d go over to the telegraph office before it closed.
    â€œMeet me in the Cactus Saloon,” he said. “It’s down the street. Give me about an hour.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œYou, too, Dan,” Dockery said.
    â€œI think I’m going to go to my room for the night, if you don’t mind,” Starkweather said.
    â€œYou mean these two old-timers are going to last longer than you?”
    â€œI’m afraid so.”
    â€œOkay, then we’ll see you for breakfast. Your hotel serves a good one.”
    â€œBreakfast, then,” Starkweather said.
    He went back to his hotel. Clint went directly to the Cactus to wait for Dockery.

TWENTY-FOUR
    Clint found the Cactus very busy, with gaming tables and a piano player. There were several girls working the floor, serving drinks and sitting on men’s laps.
    He was able to make a place for himself at the bar, order a beer, and keep a low profile. Nobody paid him any attention—that is, until Dockery appeared and joined him at the bar. Then the curiosity started. Who was the man drinking with the sheriff?
    â€œSorry,” Dockery said. “I seem to have brought you some attention.”
    â€œThis place still has a shine on it,” Clint said.
    â€œYeah, it’s only been open about four months,” Dockery said. “It’s already put a couple of the smaller saloons out of business.”
    â€œThis saloon, the hotel, the restaurant . . . the town’s really grown.”
    â€œIt’s slowed down now,” Dockery said. “People are starting to get used to the new businesses. I think most towns get to a certain point and then really can’t support any more growth.”
    â€œAnd you think that’s happened here?”
    â€œWell, the mayor and the town council don’t think so,” Dockery said. “I’m sorta on the fence about it.”
    â€œAre you okay with it, either way?”
    â€œOh, sure,” Dockery said. “We get any bigger, I’ll just ask for more money in my budget to hire more deputies.”
    â€œHow many do you have now?”
    Dockery grinned and said, “None. Think your kid might want a job farther west than Kansas?”
    â€œI couldn’t answer for him, but right