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

was wondering if I could have a word with you?” Forbes asked.
    â€œBoth of us?” Clint asked.
    â€œUm, yes.”
    â€œLike I said,” Clint repeated, “come on in.”
    Forbes came the rest of the way in and closed the door behind him. He was still dressed for work in a tweed suit, white shirt, and tie.
    Slowly, he approached the desk. Starkweather pulled a chair over for him. The sound of the chair dragging on the floor startled him.
    â€œTake it easy, Eddie,” Clint said. “We’re all friends here.”
    Forbes sat down gingerly, looking as if he might bolt from the room any minute.
    â€œWhat’s on your mind, Eddie?”
    â€œI didn’t know anyone would g-get hurt,” he said haltingly.
    â€œDid you do something to help the gang rob the bank?” Clint asked.
    â€œI was in the saloon,” he said, “and they—they made me sit with them. They made me drink whiskey and—and talk about the bank.”
    â€œSo you told them how much money was in the bank, how many people worked there, like that?” Clint asked.
    â€œY-yes,” he said. “I—I didn’t know why they were asking me those questions.”
    â€œSure you knew, Eddie,” Starkweather said. “You had to know.”
    â€œHow much did they pay you, Eddie?”
    â€œA—a hundred dollars.”
    â€œA hundred dollars?” Starkweather asked. “That’s what three lives were worth to you?”
    â€œI tell you, I didn’t know!” Forbes said. Then he sobbed and buried his face in his hands.
    â€œEddie,” Clint said, “look at me. Come on, Eddie! Look!”
    Forbes took his face from his hands and looked up at Clint.
    â€œYou need to tell us what you know,” Clint said. “Anything that would help us catch the gang.”
    â€œI—I don’t know anything.”
    â€œSure you do,” Clint said. “Or you wouldn’t be here. Come on, you heard something.”
    â€œWell . . . they talked about a canyon that nobody could ever find. And a cabin.”
    â€œLike the Hole-in-the-Wall?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œNever mind,” Clint said. “Is that where they were going to go after the job?”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œAnd how far is it?”
    â€œI—I can’t be sure, but I think they said it would take several days to get there.”
    â€œAnd then how long were they going to stay?”
    â€œThat I—I don’t know anything about,” Forbes said. “Really.”
    â€œWherever it is,” Starkweather said, “they’re probably gone now.”
    â€œThat may be,” Clint agreed, “but they may have left something useful behind.” He looked at Forbes. “Anything else, Eddie?”
    â€œI—I don’t know—”
    â€œCome on, Eddie!” Starkweather said. “Just a little more.”
    â€œWell . . . it seemed to me that the gang was separated into two parts.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œMr. Starkweather, he was very friendly with a man named Santino. And then the other four men stuck together.”
    â€œSantino must be his number one,” Clint said. “Like a foreman.”
    â€œAny other names, Eddie?”
    â€œOne of them was called Vail, but . . . that’s all I know. Are you going to put me in jail?”
    â€œI should put you in jail for what you did,” Starkweather said, “but I don’t have time!”
    â€œGo home, Eddie,” Clint said. “Just . . . go home. Don’t talk to anyone else about this.”
    â€œYou—you’re not going to tell?”
    â€œNo,” Clint said, “we’re not going to tell.”
    â€œCome on, Eddie,” Starkweather said, grabbing his arm. “Let me help you out the door.”
    At the door Forbes looked at Starkweather and said, “I really didn’t mean any harm.”
    â€œYeah,” Starkweather