A couple of days later Clint checked out of the Bastion Hotel and paid his bill. The Assistant Manager, Mr. Bender, was behind the desk.
“I hope you had a pleasant stay in New York, Mr. Adams,” he said.
“Let’s just say it was eventful.”
He walked across the lobby, out the front door and stopped next to the doorman, setting his bag down on the ground.
“Headin’ out?” Matthew asked.
Clint looked at him. He appeared a little worse for wear, with a bandage under his eye, and bruises on his face, but he was smiling. When Clint had returned to the gallery after visiting Emory Bates and resolving all issues, Matthew told him that Sly had already left.
“What happened?” Clint asked.
“He said he got paid a lot of money,” Matt had said. “Too much to turn down.”
“So what happened?”
Matthew had smiled. “Let’s just say a good little man can’t beat a good big man. He just wasn’t fast enough.”
Now Clint put out his hand and Matthew took it, even though his hand was swollen.
“Comin’ back?” Matthew asked.
“I don’t know,” Clint said. “This has been quite a visit, and it seems every time I come to New York I get involved in some kind of trouble.”
“And that doesn’t happen when you stay in the West?”
Clint laughed, picked up his bag and said, “Oh, Matthew, it happens to me all the time. Can you get me a cab to the train?”
“Comin’ up!”