The food was as advertised.
Clint and Matthew washed it down with the last of the coffee.
“So, what’d’ya think?” Dudley asked.
“That was a fine breakfast, Dudley,” Clint said. “I’d be honored to come back here and eat any time.”
“Well, thank ya,” Dudley said. “And you, ya big lug, you should come back more often, too.”
“I will, Dud,” Matthew said. “Thanks.”
Matthew put his coat back on and he and Clint went out to the street.
“The gallery?” Matthew asked.
“Yup,” Clint said.
“Well, it was walking distance from the hotel, but kinda far from here.”
“Let’s get a cab, then.”
“On the corner,” Matthew said, gesturing. “And I’ll do it. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
“Well,” Clint said, “I might need you to be good at something else, Matthew.”
“I can do that, Clint,” the doorman said. “And you might as well call me Matt.”
~*~
Both men got out of the cab in front of the gallery, and Clint paid the driver.
“Looks quiet,” Matthew said.
“She probably just opened,” Clint said. “As far as quiet, let’s see if we can keep it that way.”
They walked to the door and Clint found it unlocked when he tried it.
“Know anything about art, Matt?” he asked as they entered.
“Only what I think is pretty and what I think ain’t,” Matthew said.
“That’s just about where I stand, too.”
Nadine came out of her office to see who had entered the gallery.
“Ah, it’s you,” she said. “Every time somebody comes in I don’t know if it’s going to be friend or foe.”
“Well,” Clint said, “this man is a friend. His name is Matthew . .”
“Rhodes,” Matthew finished, as Clint realized he didn’t know Matt’s last name.
“. . . Rhodes,” Clint said. “Matt Rhodes, meet Nadine Jensen.”
“Ma’am,” Matthew said. He would have removed his hat if he’d been wearing one.
“Mr. Rhodes.”
“Please. Call me Matt.”
“All right, Matt,” Nadine said. She looked at Clint. “Is he here to buy art?”
“He’s here to make sure nothing happens to your gallery, or to you. I can’t stay here all the time, Nadine,” Clint said. “I need to do a few things.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll tell you if they pan out,” Clint said. “For now, Matt’s your bodyguard.”
“Can I use him for other things?” she asked.
“Well, that depends on what they are,” Clint said.
She blushed and said, hurriedly, “I was talking about hanging paintings.”
“I knew that,” Clint said.
Matthew looked confused.
“I can hang paintings,” he said.
“Or take them down,” Nadine added.
“Sure.”
“Then you’re free to go, Mr. Adams,” she said, “and run whatever errands you think you need to run.”
Clint looked at Matthew. “You keep her safe.”
“I will. Where are you goin’?”
“I’ve got a telegram to send,” Clint said. “I’m thinking we might need one more man.”
“I know a few other guys who might need jobs,” Matthew said.
“Doormen?” Clint asked.
“Ex-lawmen.”
“Keep them in mind,” Clint said. “If I don’t get the one I’m thinking about, maybe we’ll need them.”
“Okay.”
Nadine walked to the front door with him.
“Where did you find Matt?’
“He’s the doorman at the Bastion.”
“I’m being protected by a doorman?”
“He’s also an ex-boxer, and an ex-policeman.”
“Well, then,” she said, “he sounds eminently qualified for the job.”
“Qualified enough,” Clint said, “but there are still a few things only I can do.”
She squeezed his arm as he opened the door and said, “I’m counting on that.”