Support Your Local Deputy: A Cotton Pickens Western Read Free Page B

business to do. Namely, look for a red-and-gilt chariot, and two blonde Ukrainian women joined at the hip. I took a quick prowl around the rear of the place, and into the other wagon, to satisfy myself that no one was hiding a chariot or Siamese twins, blonde or any other color. Whoever kidnapped the ladies, it wasn’t this miserable outfit.
    I spotted a gent smoking a cigar back there, and thought he might have some answers. He saw the glint of my badge even before we spoke. He sucked on his gummy cheroot, and knocked off the ash.
    “You looking for something, sheriff?”
    “Just keeping an eye on things. How many people you got in this outfit?”
    “Six and the professor.”
    “Any women?”
    He stared at me as if I were an idiot. “That’s Elvira Smoothpepper out there. And we got Elsie Sanchez, the Argentine firecracker.”
    “No Ukrainian blondes?”
    “You got eyes, dontcha?”
    “Who else’s in the show?”
    “Sheriff, there ain’t anyone with a wanted poster on him. There’s me and another teamster. He’s the accordionist, and there’s a tap dancer named Fogarty, and the professor.”
    “What does the professor sell? What’s his medicine?”
    The gent smiled. “Try it sometime and come back and tell me.”
    “Any chariots around here?”
    “Any what?”
    “Oh, never mind.”
    “You all right, sheriff? Want to lie down? That second wagon, it’s got bunks. Had a little too much?”
    “Who’s the professor?”
    “He’s whatever he is at any moment. Right now, he’s a medicine man, and he’s working the rubes for a few bucks.”
    “Yeah, well I’ll go watch the show,” I said.
    “It beats pissing on a fence post.”
    Half of the crowd was cowboys, out from the saloons. I recognized a few, most of them the ones that hung out at Mrs. Gladstone’s Sampling Room. They were tied up with the Admiral Ranch, other side of the county. But there were some locals, too, including the mayor, George Waller, who looked embarrassed when he saw me.
    “I just came to view the competition,” he said. Waller was a merchant, and any outfit that sold anything was competition, as far as he was concerned. “Maybe you should arrest the whole lot,” he said.
    “What for?”
    “They’re all crooks.”
    “Well, that’s progress. You show me one act of crookery, and I’ll pinch the person straight off.”
    Elvira Smoothpepper was making her belly roll and the grass skirts sway, and that was pretty entertaining. The accordionist got to wheezing away, and pretty soon the act creaked to a stop, and out came Professor Zoroaster Zimmer, in black silk top hat, tux and tails, and a grimy white vest that looked a little worse for wear.
    I’d never seen the like.
    He spotted me at once, and welcomed me. “Ladies and gents, here’s the sheriff of, ah, what? Puma County, Wyoming. Come to see our little show, and maybe endorse my product, namely, the Zimmer Miracle Tonic, guaranteed to cure piles, insomnia, gout, St. Vitus Dance, and all bowel troubles. Welcome, Mr. Sheriff.
    “Now, esteemed friends, I want to tell you about a product that should need no introducing, since it sells itself. You need only ask your neighbor, who has the remedy on his shelf, ready to use, and you’ll see how effective it is. Mr. Sheriff, please come up.”
    “Me?”
    “Of course, you. Step right up, my friend.”
    “I haven’t got anything ailing me, doc.”
    “Oh, my friend, do you have restless nights? Toss and turn nights?”
    “Naw, I sleep like a log.”
    “Do you ache after a long day on your horse?”
    “Now, you’re talking about Critter, the orneriest critter on four legs. Yes, I’ll allow that I ache some after a long ride on that beast.”
    “Were you out on him today, sheriff?”
    “Pretty near the whole blasted day, professor.”
    “Then you must feel weary, right down to the bone.”
    “Well, we were out looking for some blonde Ukrainian women that got attached at the hip and plain disappeared.”
    That got