trembling. âI could definitely use a drink. But . . . shouldnât we wait here for the law or whoever will clean this up?â
âI reckon someone will find us before we get to the River Wheel.â
Now that they were walking down the street, Ed could see the River Wheel Saloon up past the next corner. Heâd only been to Saint Joseph twice before, which wasnât enough for him to be familiar with the place. All he knew was the way out of town, but something kept him from taking that very attractive prospect just yet. âI ought to buy you that drink.â
âYes,â Slocum replied with a wry smirk, âyou should.â
They were halfway to the corner when Ed asked, âSo you were out looking for that Vaccaro fella?â
âNope.â
âThen you knew there could be trouble?â
âNot as such.â
Ed kept staring at Slocum, which did nothing to elicit a response. âSo what were you doing at that spot at that particular time?â
âI was headed to the general store for some coffee,â Slocum said. âTomorrow Iâm riding out. Speaking of which . . .â
âYes?â Ed chirped as he watched a man walk straight for them with purpose in his strides.
âI still need coffee.â
âMr. Slocum,â the purposeful man said. He wore a dusty Stetson and a rumpled yellow shirt beneath a wool-lined jacket. His wide face bore a smile that was as short on humor as it was on patience. âI heard shots. Am I wrong in thinking you were in the vicinity when they were fired?â
Slocum stopped and hooked his thumbs over his gun belt. âI was there, Sheriff. Vaccaro meant to kill me.â
âWhat happened?â
âI killed him first.â
The man in the Stetson turned to face Ed. He placed his hands upon his hips so as to display the star pinned to his shirt pocket as well as the gun strapped around his waist. âAnd who might you be?â
âEd Warren, sir. I came by to visit a friend of mine from way back.â
âYou know Mr. Slocum here?â
âOnly just got introduced,â Ed said while lifting his chin. âHe saved my life.â
âYeah, well, donât let that color your expectations,â the sheriff said. âMost folks who spend too much time around him just get shot.â
Slocum took that barb in good humor. âIâm sure you donât mind the occasional shot being fired around here,â he said. âEspecially since it means someone else is doing your job for you.â
The big lawman nodded. âSpeaking of my job, Iâve got some business to tend to right now. I believe you owe me some money.â
That brought an end to Slocumâs good humor. âWhat for?â
âThe disturbance just now. Seems thereâs a dead body that wasnât there before.â
âI told you Vaccaro meant to kill me,â Slocum said.
âAnd I believe you, which is why Iâm not hauling you away right now. Instead, Iâm fining you for disturbance of the peace and for taking the law into your own hands. Also, after your last confrontation with Mr. Vaccaro, I recall asking you to hand in your weapon and not fire another one within town limits.â
âHow much is the fine?â
After milking the next few moments by scratching his chin thoughtfully, the lawman told him, âTwo hundred sounds about right.â
âI donât have that much.â
âThen perhaps thereâs still a cage in your future,â the sheriff said, punctuating his statement with a sharp jab of his finger against Slocumâs chest.
Slocum stared directly into the sheriffâs eyes. His body tensed in a way that made the air crackle like a storm that was less than a minute away from spilling rain onto the town. Ed could feel more violence approaching and didnât have the first idea of what to do about it. Before he was forced to run or
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