The Man with the Iron Badge Read Online Free PDF Page B

shot himself, but set his pants on fire at the same time. Talk about a rude awakening.
    Clint dumped the remnants of coffee from the pot, cleaned it out, and then put an extra handful of coffee in the pot this time. He enjoyed strong coffee, but he didn’t think the kid would be able to handle it. Not many men had been able to handle Clint’s strongest trail coffee.
    The horses nickered, but Clint didn’t think anything of it. Probably some kind of critter outside the circle of light given off by the campfire. Eclipse would kick up a fuss if there was anything to worry about.
    He poured himself a cup of coffee when it was ready, then decided to clean his gun while he was on watch. While he did, he kept his rifle close, just in case.
    Â 
    Dan Starkweather watched while Clint Adams cleaned his gun. It had taken several days of traveling with Clint before he felt comfortable enough to sleep, effectively turning his back on Adams. By now, though, he pretty much trusted the man, although he was still curious about him. He was learning things from him every day, and it still took him a while to fall asleep on the ground.
    Tracking his father was a responsibility, but after this Starkweather didn’t think life on the trail was for him.

TWELVE
    The first town they came to was called Artisia. They had a newspaper and a telegraph office, and Clint and Starkweather dismounted and split up to find some information. They agreed to meet at the hotel they had passed on their way in.
    Starkweather went to the telegraph office, while Clint went to the newspaper office. He entered, and didn’t even need to say anything. There were newspapers stacked everywhere. He took one and saw the story on the front page about a bank robbery where a teller and two lawmen were killed. The people of Lost Mesa did not know if the gang had a name, but oddly, both lawmen had been shot right through their badges.
    â€œCan I help you?” a middle-aged man with ink-spotted fingertips asked.
    â€œThat’s okay,” Clint said. “I found out what I came to find out. Do you mind?” He held the newspaper up questioningly.
    â€œGo ahead, take it.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Â 
    â€œIt’s in the newspaper,” the telegraph key operator told Starkweather, “but yeah, we got a telegram from the mayor of Lost Mesa. Wanted to know if our sheriff would form a posse and go after them.”
    â€œAnd did he?”
    â€œOur sheriff?” The man made a face. “We’re lucky that gang didn’t pick our bank. He wouldn’t’ve gone after them even then.”
    â€œOkay,” Starkweather said, “much obliged.”
    â€œYou after that gang yerself, are ya?” the man asked, staring at Starkweather’s iron badge.
    â€œI wasn’t when I got to town,” Starkweather said, “but I think I am now.”
    â€œLemme give ya some advice.”
    â€œOkay.”
    The thin, middle-aged man leaned forward and lowered his voice, as if there were other people in the room, which there were not.
    â€œDon’t count on our sheriff for any help.”
    â€œI’ll remember,” Starkweather said, lowering his voice to match. “Much obliged.”
    â€œSure thing.”
    Starkweather started for the door, then stopped.
    â€œDo you know if Lost Mesa has replaced their sheriff yet?”
    â€œNot that I heard,” the man said. “And the operator in Lost Mesa woulda told me.”
    â€œObliged,” Starkweather said again, and left.

    Clint and Starkweather met in front of the hotel, went inside, and got rooms. Starkweather had his own money, although he’d never told Clint where it came from. He had offered to cover Clint’s expenses, since he had asked Clint to go along, but Clint waved the offer away.
    They collected their keys, put their gear in their rooms, and then walked to the nearest saloon. Once they each had a beer, they exchanged