“I’m looking for your boss.” “What’s it about, sir?” the younger man asked. “It’s a courtesy call,” Clint said. “My name is Clint Adams.” The deputy’s feet dropped to the floor and he stared at Clint. “If I was to guess, I’d say he was at Leo’s.” “What’s Leo’s?” “A small hotel at the far end of town,” the deputy said. “Is your sheriff a drunk?” “No,” the deputy said, “Leo and the sheriff, they’re friends. Mostly the sheriff drinks coffee.” “Okay,” Clint said. “What’s the man’s name?” “Oh, uh, Sheriff Phipps, Billy Phipps.” I’ll go and see if the sheriff is at Leo’s. You want me to tell him you had your feet up on his desk?” “Oh, no sir . . .” “Don’t worry, son,” Clint said, “your secret is safe with me.” Clint walked all the way down to the far end of town and found the little place called Leo’s. There was half a sign over the door, as if it had once said LEO’S SALOON, but the word SALOON had fallen off.
What do You think about The Man With The Iron Badge?
