scraping soap and whiskers off into the bowl of water.
Cotton pushed open the door to the jail to find Jack once again foraging through wanted dodgers. He had some of them spread across the desk, while others were piled in uneven stacks. Several had even found their way to the floor. Cotton stood staring at his distracted deputy, who apparently had either not taken notice of the sheriff’s entry or was so lost in thought that he failed to see the looming shadow across his disarray.
“What are you looking for? We both looked through those and found nothing.”
“I’m tryin’ to put one of these pictures with another owlhoot that rode into town last night. I’m hopin’ I can stick his worthless butt in one of those cells back there,” Jack said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Although, I’m not sure he’s a gunman, anyway. May be just gettin’ jittery.”
“You aren’t alone. I take it you’ve had no luck.”
“You take it right.” Jack sat back and threw up his hands. “But I know damned well those hombres are part of Havens’s doin’. I just can’t prove it. Yet.”
“You’ll be able to prove it about the time one of them throws down on one of us.”
“Yeah, but then it might be too late. I count a number of ’em.”
“Uh-huh.” Cotton walked over to the stove and picked up the coffeepot, looked inside, then frowned at what he saw. Or didn’t see. “I reckon you didn’t have time to put some of those dark brown beans in the pot to brew some coffee.”
“I reckon you reckon correct.”
“I’m goin’ down to the hotel for some breakfast. You stayin’ here or taggin’ along?” Cotton said with a grumble.
“Can’t very well sit here alone while you stumble into one of those hard cases on the street and get your fool head shot off, can I?”
“Wouldn’t be good for your continued employment prospects.”
“That’s what I figured. Course, you could sign me to along-term contract while still aboveground, then I might be talked into stickin’ around awhile longer.”
“Check with me after this Havens thing is over. If, that is, we’re both still standin’.”
Cotton pulled a shotgun from the rack and headed for the door. Jack pulled his hat off a wall peg, hiked up his holster, and followed suit. They both looked around to make sure they weren’t walking into something neither one looked forward to. On the way down the boardwalk, neither of them spotted any of the three scruffy gunslingers they’d observed before.
“Hmmm. You suppose all the rattlers took notice of the peace and quiet and figured they were no match for us?” Jack said with a smirk as they mounted the steps to the hotel’s dining room.
A wagon loaded with boards stopped in front of the saloon. From inside, the distinctive sounds of nails being pounded and boards being sawed made their presence known. Melody stood outside, hands on curvy hips, shouting orders like some wartime general. When she noticed Jack, she waved, then quickly returned to whipping her new enterprise into shape.
“Melody ought to consider bein’ a drover, Jack. She could sure make those dogies stay in line,” Cotton mused.
“She does have a way of gettin’ things done. Won’t be long before that place is bringin’ in more business than this town has ever seen.”
“Or more trouble.”
“That, too.”
“Could keep you up nights dealin’ with womanizin’ drunks with loaded guns, Jack. Nothin’ you aren’t already used to, I suppose.”
“Gonzales wasn’t all that tough a town. A couple of drunks now and again. That’s all.”
“And you were one of ’em, as I recall.”
“That’s all in the past, Sheriff, all in the past. But now Apache Springs could pose a different circumstance, ’specially since there seems to be an element bent on addin’ totheir reputation as shootists. And that star on your chest seems a likely target.”
“And that’s just the reason we both have to be alert to
Cotton pushed open the door to the jail to find Jack once again foraging through wanted dodgers. He had some of them spread across the desk, while others were piled in uneven stacks. Several had even found their way to the floor. Cotton stood staring at his distracted deputy, who apparently had either not taken notice of the sheriff’s entry or was so lost in thought that he failed to see the looming shadow across his disarray.
“What are you looking for? We both looked through those and found nothing.”
“I’m tryin’ to put one of these pictures with another owlhoot that rode into town last night. I’m hopin’ I can stick his worthless butt in one of those cells back there,” Jack said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Although, I’m not sure he’s a gunman, anyway. May be just gettin’ jittery.”
“You aren’t alone. I take it you’ve had no luck.”
“You take it right.” Jack sat back and threw up his hands. “But I know damned well those hombres are part of Havens’s doin’. I just can’t prove it. Yet.”
“You’ll be able to prove it about the time one of them throws down on one of us.”
“Yeah, but then it might be too late. I count a number of ’em.”
“Uh-huh.” Cotton walked over to the stove and picked up the coffeepot, looked inside, then frowned at what he saw. Or didn’t see. “I reckon you didn’t have time to put some of those dark brown beans in the pot to brew some coffee.”
“I reckon you reckon correct.”
“I’m goin’ down to the hotel for some breakfast. You stayin’ here or taggin’ along?” Cotton said with a grumble.
“Can’t very well sit here alone while you stumble into one of those hard cases on the street and get your fool head shot off, can I?”
“Wouldn’t be good for your continued employment prospects.”
“That’s what I figured. Course, you could sign me to along-term contract while still aboveground, then I might be talked into stickin’ around awhile longer.”
“Check with me after this Havens thing is over. If, that is, we’re both still standin’.”
Cotton pulled a shotgun from the rack and headed for the door. Jack pulled his hat off a wall peg, hiked up his holster, and followed suit. They both looked around to make sure they weren’t walking into something neither one looked forward to. On the way down the boardwalk, neither of them spotted any of the three scruffy gunslingers they’d observed before.
“Hmmm. You suppose all the rattlers took notice of the peace and quiet and figured they were no match for us?” Jack said with a smirk as they mounted the steps to the hotel’s dining room.
A wagon loaded with boards stopped in front of the saloon. From inside, the distinctive sounds of nails being pounded and boards being sawed made their presence known. Melody stood outside, hands on curvy hips, shouting orders like some wartime general. When she noticed Jack, she waved, then quickly returned to whipping her new enterprise into shape.
“Melody ought to consider bein’ a drover, Jack. She could sure make those dogies stay in line,” Cotton mused.
“She does have a way of gettin’ things done. Won’t be long before that place is bringin’ in more business than this town has ever seen.”
“Or more trouble.”
“That, too.”
“Could keep you up nights dealin’ with womanizin’ drunks with loaded guns, Jack. Nothin’ you aren’t already used to, I suppose.”
“Gonzales wasn’t all that tough a town. A couple of drunks now and again. That’s all.”
“And you were one of ’em, as I recall.”
“That’s all in the past, Sheriff, all in the past. But now Apache Springs could pose a different circumstance, ’specially since there seems to be an element bent on addin’ totheir reputation as shootists. And that star on your chest seems a likely target.”
“And that’s just the reason we both have to be alert to
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