EXCERPT
He rapped twice on the big door. He heard a movement inside and what sounded like a Come in, so he swung open the door and pushed it in. The room was of adequate size, no more. Two holding cells made up the back section and both were empty. The sheriffCole assumed he was the sheriffwas sitting behind his desk being shaved by a short, fat man with broad shoulders dressed in a white barbers smock. A mirror was rigged so that the sheriff could follow the shavers progress without effort.
What can I do for you? the sheriff asked in a loud voice, his eyes steady on the mirror.
Dont want to interrupt, Cole said softly, laughing. Didnt know I came into a barber shop.
The sheriff swung around and the man in the smock jumped to avoid cutting him. What are you, he questioned after a pause, some kind of traveling funnyman? You from around these parts? he added quickly.
Meant no offense, Cole said, just took me back. Hang, I knew a guy back home that used an outhouse for a library. No kidding, an outhouse for a library. You go in there and you had to be real quiet.
The sheriff paused and then let out a deep, booming laugh. You got a wit about you, kid. Im too busy to shave myself, he said, moving his head to get a better look at Cole. Besides, he added, Harry here cut hair in Kansas City fore he came here. Hes up to date and that does my image well, right, Harry?
Harry grinned and resumed his shaving, Yes sir, Sheriff, up to date.
Before you tell me what youd like of me, let me explain I have two jobs hereabouts. The fine people of St. Bartow elected me sheriff, but I also do the marshals job. I dont mind my job, but why a do-nothing marshal was appointed in this active territory by that bureau of saps in Washington is another of those Washingtons mysteries Ill never understand. You know, on the same level as keeping Fort Sumter undermanned, undersupplied and under-gunned. The sheriff looked at Cole with suspicion and asked, You arent a Reb, are you?
No, not that, said Cole, a smile spreading across his face. He was still in his humorous stage. The whiskey had loosened him up for sure. He thought hed better watch himself.
I dont generally bitch, especially bout another in my line of work, the sheriff continued, but my boys and I are overworked and tired. The marshal is never here. So if youre coming about a problem out there in Rabbit Hollow, try the marshals office and if he aint there, good luck.
The two other men in the office, both wearing stars, were quiet and grinned proudly as the sheriff talked down the marshal.
With the shave completed, Harry dusted off the sheriff and helped him into his vest. A big, shiny, bright silver star stood affixed to the sheriffs leather vest.
The sheriff looked over at Cole. Youre big and impressive, young man. Whats your name, where you from, and what can I do for you?
The sheriff was big himself. Over six feet, trim, and he wore his gun even while being shaved. His staff respected him, that was clear. Not much dust settled on the guy either, Cole concluded.
Cole introduced himself to Lawton and his deputies, and told them of his intention to go west, probably to homestead. He asked the sheriff his opinion of the safest way to get there.
Well, Mason, the sheriff answered, let me tell you. Theres no real safe way. Thats why people pay money to ride on one of those wagon trains. There are renegades out there whod just as soon dry-gulch you as wave hello at you. Ive been out to investigate five sniper killings at least in the past few months. There is no indication that an organized group is doing it, far as I can tell, and I cant discover a motive. Money seems not to be an issue. The victims valuables and his supplies are always intact.
The sheriff downed the remaining black coffee from a mug. He stood with Cole near the desk. Theres another situation out there. Kind of a crazy, wacky thing. I made a trip up Chilson way the other week in my role as marshal. Towns not a days ride north of St. Bartow. Some friggin animal attacked a young boy up there. The boy and his father work a farm there. He paused and shook his head sadly. Darn it, really weird, the kid had pinholes in his throat. Bigger than pinholes, really, big as nail holes, probably. Small nails. At first I thought gunshot wound. No ones going to attack someone with a nail. But the holes were too small, I decided. Maybe a hungry animal. But what kind of grisly thing just sucks blood. Most animals I know want a little flesh too.
Sheriff Lawton gestured Cole to a straight-backed, wooden chair as he sat in his well-worn leather-cushioned office chair. Then the father tells me that from a distance he saw a bat sitting on his son. He thought his son was taking a nap. Thats when he rushed to the boys aid. Not a buzzard, mind you, the farmer saw a lousy, screeching big bat. Well, thats another problem, Mason, he added, you better be on the lookout for a bat that wants your blood.
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