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

heard, or saw, come and see us, Eddie.” He put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “All we’re asking is that you think it over.”
    â€œA-all right,” Eddie Forbes said, “I will.”
    â€œThanks, Eddie.”
    After the teller went inside, Starkweather asked, “You really think he knows something?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Clint said. “I didn’t when we walked in there. But he’s too nervous. If he knows something, maybe he’ll come across.”
    Â 
    Clint and Starkweather had decided they would eat their supper in the jail. They stopped in the restaurant to pick it up, and as Clint had figured they would, they attracted attention.
    Now they were sitting at the sheriff’s desk, eating their steak dinners.
    â€œThis isn’t bad,” Starkweather said.
    â€œThinking about taking the mayor up on his offer?” Clint asked.
    â€œNo,” Starkweather said.
    â€œYou like Danner that much?” Clint asked. “Nice place to live?”
    â€œI don’t live there.”
    â€œWhere do you live?”
    â€œNowhere, at the moment,” Starkweather said.
    â€œYou never told me your father committed a crime in Danner.”
    â€œHe killed a man,” Starkweather said. “I heard about it.”
    â€œA man?”
    â€œThe sheriff,” Starkweather said. “When I heard about it, I rode to Danner. Much like this town, no one wanted the sheriff’s job. They’re all afraid of my father.”
    â€œBut you’re not.”
    â€œI talked to the mayor, and he gave me the job. I supplied my own badge and rode out. I was in Danner for less than three hours.”
    â€œHow long have you been trying to find your father?” Clint asked.
    â€œSix months.”
    â€œYou’re the sheriff of Danner, Kansas, and you haven’t been there in six months?”
    Starkweather nodded.
    â€œHow do you even know you still have the job?” Clint asked.
    â€œThe mayor and me have a lot in common.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œThe sheriff my father killed?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œHe was the mayor’s brother.”
    â€œThen why isn’t the mayor’s ass in the saddle?”
    Starkweather laughed. “They don’t make saddles wide enough, or horses big enough.”
    Clint laughed.
    â€œBesides,” Starkweather added, “he’s a lot like this mayor—he’s a politician, not a lawman.”
    â€œSo what do you plan to do after you bring your father to justice?” Clint asked. “That is what you’re planning to do, right?”
    Starkweather played with his steak.
    â€œI mean, you do intend to see that he stands trial, right? You’re not planning anything silly, like killing him?”
    â€œThat’ll be his call,” Starkweather said.
    â€œAnd knowing what you know about him, what do you think his call will be?”
    â€œI don’t think he’ll come along easily.”
    â€œYou don’t think?” Clint asked. “Or are you counting on that?”
    â€œRight now I’m just trying to find him,” Starkweather said. “I don’t know what will happen when I do.”
    Clint poured some more coffee for both of them from the office coffeepot they’d found on the stove. It was awful. He didn’t know what had been in the pot last, and he didn’t want to know.
    â€œWhen your father does make the call, Dan,” Clint said, “I wonder if you’ll be able to do what you have to do.”
    â€œI guess we’ll all find out at the same time,” Starkweather said. “God, what was in this pot . . .”

EIGHTEEN
    Clint was sitting behind the sheriff’s desk with his feet up, and Starkweather was about to go to sleep in one of the cells, when the door opened.
    Eddie Forbes stuck his head in.
    â€œHey, Eddie,” Clint said. “Come on in! Have a seat.”
    â€œUm, I