Slim calculated that as soon as the stage was taken care of, Andy would be in to see him. But the first visitor who walked through the door was the stage driver. Mose looked as if he was heading for his own hanging as he stood in the doorway, holding his hat in his hats as he rocked on his heels.
"Mornin’ Mort," he said staring down at his hat. "You mind if I talk to Slim?"
"Sure, Mose."
Mose approached the cell with hesitation.
Slim smiled. "Howdy, Mose. Good to see you."
"Slim....I...I sure hope you ain’t angry at me." Mose glanced up at Slim.
"For what?"
"For testifying against you."
"You only told what you saw."
Mose moved closer to the cell and whispered, "You know I hate to admit it but I’m getting to be an old man. I can’t see like I use to. I ought to wear ‘specs but I don’t. Why I probably shouldn’t even be driving for the stage line. I’m that bad of eye sight."
Slim tilted his head. "Mose, you can see a bug on a leaf fifty feet away."
"No I can’t! So I been thinking that I might ought to tell the prosecutor that I could have been wrong about what I saw that day. Maybe I didn’t see you..."
"Mose, I appreciate it. But Frankie also testified. And I even testified that I was with Margaret when she died."
Mose frowned. "I wish I weren’t such an old man. I would have gone with Jess to hunt Bonnor down. Maybe between the two of us..."
Slim smiled. "I know you would have. And I appreciate that, Mose. You’ve been a good friend."
"I don’t feel much like a friend," Mose confided. "Even Andy don’t think I’ve been one to you."
"Andy knows better. Say Mose, what has Andy been saying to make you think that?"
"Truth is, Andy ain’t talking to me," Mose replied.
"He’ll come round."
Mose glanced at Mort then back at Slim. "I could slip you a gun."
"You’d do that?"
Mose pulled up his pant leg. Sticking out of his boot was a small derringer. He started to bend to retrieve it.
Slim reached out his hand through the cell bar and grabbed Mose’s arm. "I can’t let you do that, Mose."
"But Slim, you and me been friends for..."
"A long time. I know that. That’s why I got a favor to ask."
"You just name it."
"I’d appreciate if you’d help out Andy when you bring the stage in. You know Jonesy’s back is bothering him something fierce. And whether Andy likes it or not, he’s still a might young to be changing the horses by himself."
"He wouldn’t take my help this morning. I offered. I surely did Slim. But Andy insisted that he do the work all by himself. The boy blames me for putting the noose around your neck. Andy and me have always been friends. But now he ain’t saying a lick to me. Not one word!"
"He will...in time. I’m going to talk to him. Jonesy is suppose to bring him ‘round. I’m counting on you, Mose, to help Jonesy and Andy, whether they want your help or not. Will you promise me that?"
"I’ll be proud to help both of them in any way I can. And I’ll help Jess too. Jonesy ain’t heard from him in awhile."
Slim nodded. "Maybe he quit looking."
"Not Jess! He wouldn’t give up! He’s too stubborn. ‘Sides he knows your life depends on him. He’s looking all right. You should know, Slim, that the drivers been asking the passengers if they’ve seen Bonnor. I reckon the stage line wouldn’t be happy knowing we’re questioning ‘em like that. But a lot of us think you hanging is wrong. Even if it was a woman that died. I’m awful sorry that I helped to put that rope around your neck."
Slim touched his neck as if the rope was burning his skin. "I know, Mose. But I ain’t holding no grudge against you. You told the truth. I can’t fault you for that. No one can. I ain’t blaming you none. You be sure to tell Frankie the same thing."
"I’ll do it. Yes sir, I will. You need anything? Tobacco?"
"No. Jonesy is babying me so much that I can’t spit ‘fore he wipes my chin."
"Well...I guess I’ll be going." Mose hesitated. "You know this might be the last time we talk."
Slim swallowed hard. "Well then, you take care, Mose."
Mose nodded then turned. "Mort."
As the door closed, Mort chuckled. "That old goat’s lucky that he didn’t shoot his leg off carrying a derringer in his boot."
"You knew?"
"Believe me, I’ve wrestled with myself about helping you break out of this jail."
"Not you, Mort. You’ve been sheriff too long."
"I guess I have. But still...well this ain’t right. This just ain’t right. Sometimes I wonder if this badge is worth it."
"It’s worth it," Slim mumbled before he leaned against the window and stared at the gallows.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Slim’s next visitor was the one he was scared to see.
Andy offered no greeting as he stepped inside the sheriff’s office.
"I want to talk to Slim," Andy announced.
"Go ahead," Mort said. He moved to the window to give them more privacy.
Andy moved to the cell as if he was facing the devil himself. The closer he got to the cell the more his eyes lowered. "Howdy, Slim," the young boy said shyly, barely looking at his brother.
"Andy..." Slim tried to smile a greeting but his lips betrayed him as they quivered.
Andy’s eyes began to water. "Slim, tell me what to do." He looked up at Slim. His face pleaded for help.
Slim reached through the cell’s bars and pulled Andy to him. "You’ve had to grow up quicker than most."
"I kept telling everyone that I was all grown up now. Wanted to be full grown. Jonesy told me that there would be a time that I wished I weren’t grown. I reckon the time is now."
"Like it or not, you’re going to have to be grown up. You can’t be a kid any longer. I remember how I felt when Pa died. I felt like the whole world was crashing down on my shoulders. I was plenty scared."
Andy pulled back so he could see Slim’s face. "You didn’t show
it."
"Well I was."
"Are you scared now? Of dying? Like that?" Andy nodded towards gallows.
"I’m scared," Slim admitted.
"None of this is fair, Slim!" Andy cried out. "You didn’t do anything wrong."
"Yes, I did. I fell in love with the wrong woman."
"I hope she’s burning in hell! Right now! Woman or no woman! I hope she’s suffering!"
"Andy!" Slim’s lips pressed hard together. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. His voice turned gentle, "Sometimes things ain’t fair. It weren’t fair that Ma and Pa died like they did. Weren’t fair that we’ve gone through droughts and lost cattle to coyotes. But we got through it. And you’ll get through this. You’ll have Jonesy and Jess."
"But it won’t be you! You’re my brother. You’re family. Jess and Jonesy ain’t."
"Oh yes they are! They’d both die for you without you even asking. I’ve talked to Jonesy. He’ll help you run the ranch and keep the relay station going...."
"Slim, I’m going after Bonnor."
"That’s foolish talk!" Slim snapped.
"No it ain’t!" Andy argued back in a loud voice. "It’s the same as if he put the noose around your neck. It’s his fault that you’re being hung. He’s the one that killed her, not you!"
"And what chance do you think you would have against a gunfighter like Bonnor? He might be faster than Jess!"
"I’ve been practicing," Andy confessed.
Slim’s eyes narrowed. "Practicing what?"
"Shooting. I can’t quite draw as fast as Jess. But in time..."
"You make me ashame of you."
Andy’s face showed his hurt.
"Ma and Pa raised us to respect the law. Gun fighting ain’t nothing but..."
"Jess would say different."
"You got to quit putting so much store in what Jess thinks. He’s only a drifter that we hired..."
"Jess is like family. I reckon we ain’t had a better friend."
"Sometimes the people you count on, well, you find out that you can’t count on ‘em. You remember that Andy. Don’t you get sucker."
"Slim, I ain’t never heard you talk like this. You got something against Jess?"
"It’s just...hearing you talk about using a gun, I don’t want you to turn out like Jess, and be a fast gun, that’s all."
"Is that how you think of Jess? Only as a fast gun? I figured the way he’s been working around the ranch that you thought of him as your best friend."
Slim pounded his fist against the cell bar. "I got so much to say to you. But I don’t know how to say the words. And time is so short, I’m scared I ain’t going to say it all..."
Andy leaned close to the bars and whispered, "I’m going to slip you a gun. Tonight. I’ll have two horses tied..."
"And we’d be running the rest of our lives. What kind of life is that?"
"You’d be alive!"
"For how long? And what about Mort? You planning on shooting him when he tries to stop me from breaking out?"
"Slim..."
"You think that Mort is going to let me just walk out of here without a fight?"
"If he’s your friend..."
"He is! But Mort also has a job to do! I’d do the same if he was in here and I was the sheriff."
"If Jess was here, he’d break you out!"
"Well he ain’t here! And there’s no telling where he is either!"
Andy’s voice broke with tears. "But I can’t let you hang! I just can’t! I’m your brother. I got to do something to help you!"
"Andy, I’d rather hang than you become an outlaw. That’s no life. You want to be another Frank Bonnor? That would sure make Pa and me proud, wouldn’t it? We’d both think we failed when it came to raising you."
Andy wiped away the tears but they continued to fall. "I can’t tell you goodbye. I just can’t, Slim!
I got to do something!"
"You’re already doing it. Taking care of the relay station. Jonesy told me that you’re working hard. That you’re taking on a man’s responsibility and doing a good job of it too."
Andy swallowed hard but he couldn’t hold back the sob. "I lost Pa and Ma. Slim, please! Not you too!"
Slim put his finger under Andy’s chin and made the young boy look at him. "Jonesy will be there for you. And I’m hoping Jess is going to stay on. And Mose, if you let him. And you should. He thinks highly of you. And Mort would help you any time. You just say the word. We’re mighty lucky to have them for friends. So don’t you forget Mort and Mose are around if you need them."
"All right, Slim. If you say so."
"Andy, you can’t blame any one but Bonnor for me being in here. And if I hadn’t been so foolish over that gal, well, I got to shoulder some of the blame too."
Andy swayed on his feet with restless energy. "The preacher came out last night."
"What’d he say?"
"That I should pray."
"I’d say that’s mighty good advice. Ma always held highly ‘bout us going to church on Sundays."
"Slim, I’ve prayed until my tongue feels swollen from begging that Jess will get back to Laramie with Bonnor in time to stop this hanging."
"Well then I’d say you’re doing all you can for me."
"Don’t seem enough."
"Andy, I don’t want you to come back here."
"Slim!"
"When they come to get me, I want you home."
"You’ll need me here! You don’t want to die alone."
"You’re wrong! I want to do this alone! And I expect you to honor how I want this to be played out."
Andy frowned. "All right, Slim. But we still got four more days until....well we can talk some more."
Slim’s eyes watered. "We’ve said it all. No need to linger over a goodbye. You’ve said what you come here to say. I’ve said my piece except Andy I’m proud you’re my brother. I know you’ll do a good job with the relay station. And...you take good care of my horse. All right?"
"Sure, Slim! Treat him like he’s my own. You know that."
"Sure, I do!" Slim’s voice choked. He coughed quickly to hide his emotions. "Now you get on home. It’s getting near lunch time. And you tell Jonesy to quit killing the chickens. Mort will feed me good." Slim held out his hand. His arm scraped the bars of the cell.
Andy shook his hand.
"You’re a man now, Andy," Slim said. "You behave like Pa would want you to. You make the name Sherman a proud one."
Andy nodded.
Slim’s eyes watered. "Don’t come back here, all right?"
"All right."
"Bury me next to Ma and Pa."
"I will."
Slim smiled. "Go on. Jonesy will need your help with the afternoon stage."
"All right, Slim." Andy turned and walked to the door.
"‘Bye, Andy," Mort said.
Andy looked at Mort as if he wanted to hit him.
"Andy, Mort said bye," Slim said.
"Bye," Andy mumbled, dodging Mort’s eyes. He turned the doorknob but didn’t pull back. He faced the cowboy in jail as he cried out, "Slim, I love you." It was the first time Andy had ever said the words.
"I love you too, tiger. And I’m awful glad you’re my brother."
"Mort, you take good care of him," Andy said, sounding grownup.
"I will, Andy."
Andy took one last look at Slim. For a long moment they stared at each other; then Slim gave a short nod and Andy nodded back. Andy then left, never looking back.
Slim turned his back to Mort. He lowered his head. Tears ran down his cheeks. He wiped them away; but more followed.
"How about a game of checkers to pass the time?" Mort offered.
"Sure."
"He’ll be all right," Mort assured. "I’ll look in on him from time to time. Do what I can to help him."
"I’m counting on you," Slim said. "Andy can’t follow Jess’ way of using a gun."
"Jess has changed. He ain’t a gunslinger any more."
"I thought he changed but..."
"You want to tell me what happened between you two?"
Slim bit on his lip.
"All right, Slim. But a man ought to make peace before he dies. Seems to me that you still got business left to do with Jess."
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Jess read the telegram. The message was short. "Hangs in four days." His hands shook as folded up the paper and stuck it into his pocket.
"Bad news?" the telegraph operator asked.
"Any strangers been through here in the last day or so?"
The telegraph operator studied the cowboy. His face was covered with dark stubble. His clothes smelled from sweat and were so dusty that you could hardly make out the color of his shirt. There were circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept.
"Sorry, Mister. I wouldn’t know. You might ask down at the blacksmith. Most passing through board their horses there. And there’s a boarding house at the end of the street."
"Obliged," Jess mumbled. He stood on the boardwalk, eyeing the town. He had lost the trail five miles back. Now he could only hope that Frank would revert to his old ways and come to this town.
The town hadn’t changed much since Jess had last been here. A few more houses, and a new sheriff’s office was the only difference he could see. Still no hotel and only one saloon.
He wondered if any of the saloon girls that he knew would still be employed. He doubted it. He patted his horse. The animal hung his head as if tired. "I got enough money to get you a stall and some grain. Maybe he’ll let me sleep next to you without charging me."
Jess walked his horse down the street. He was so tired that he felt like his legs would buckle under him. His stomach growled loudly from hunger. He had run out of coffee a day ago and finished the last of the beans this morning. He led his horse into the stable. "Anyone here?"
"Howdy." The man eyed Jess with caution.
"Would like my horse fed and stalled. How much?"
"Looks like you’ve been on a trail a long time."
"How much?"
"A dollar."
"A dollar! That’s steep."
"That’s what the last man said. But like I told him, I’m the only stable in this town."
Jess handed him the bill. "Take good care of him. He’s earned a rest. Say, would it be all right if I bedded down in here tonight?"
"For twenty five cents, I’ll let you."
Jess tossed him the coin. "You got a place to eat."
"The saloon would still be open."
"Anyone else ride in here in last day or two?"
"You the law?"
"Do I look like the law?" Jess asked. His hand dropped to his gun.
"No. I guess you don’t. Though I ain’t sure what the law looks like."
"I see you got a sheriff’s office now." From the stable, they could see a light burning from the window of small building. The sign "Sheriff’s Office" blew from the wind.
"Had the law for ‘bout three years now. You been here before?"
"A time back."
"Then you should know. This town’s turned law abiding."
"I ain’t here for trouble."
"Just trailing a man, huh?"
Jess frowned so hard that the blacksmith’s body tensed with fear. "I don’t know of no stranger passing through..."
Jess nodded. He handed the man his reins. "I’ll be back after I get something to eat."
The blacksmith led the horse towards the last stall. Jess turned to walk away but he felt too tired to eat. He turned back and headed towards the last stall. He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.
"What the hell!"
The blacksmith peeked out of the stall. "Something wrong?"
Jess rushed the blacksmith. He grabbed him by the collar. "I ain’t the only stranger, am I?"
"Mister, I don’t want any trouble. You take your hands off of me or I’ll call the sheriff."
Jess only tightened his hold. "That horse." Jess nodded his head towards the next to last stall. "Whose owns it?"
"Mister, I can hardly breathe..."
"I want to know who owns that horse."
"A man paid me to take care of it."
"He have a name?" Jess jerked the man hard. "I said did he have a name?"
"No! Said to tend to his animal until he got back."
"From where?"
"I don’t know. That was two days ago. I ain’t seen him since."
"You’re lying..."
"I swear!" The blacksmith pushed against Jess, trying to free his hold.
Jess finally released him. "What did he look like?"
As the blacksmith straighten his clothes, he said, "Tall...dark hair...stocky."
"His gun?"
"Wore one like you do. I’d say he was a gun slick."
Jess moved to the animal. He touched the brand. It was a Texas brand. The same type of brand that Frank Bonnor’s horse had worn. And the horse was a sorrel with a white sock just like Frank’s. It had to be! It just had to be Frank’s horse. The description of the man fit, though it could fit a dozen men.
Jess started out the stable.
"Hey!" The blacksmith called out. "I want another dollar."
"For what?"
"In case you don’t come back. As worn out as your horse is, will take me some time to sell it."
"That horse better be here when I get back," Jess warned.
"Providing you’re faster on the draw than he is," the blacksmith said.
His words hit their mark. Jess flinched. He wasn’t sure if he was. There had been a time he hadn’t been as fast. But he was counting on Frank’s age and confinement in prison to even the odds.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Jess checked his gun to be sure it was loaded. He then walked into the saloon. It was one of the few businesses that was still open, despite the late hour. Jess tried to figure out why the blacksmith hadn’t seen Frank in two days. Maybe in here, he could learn where Frank had gone.
The room was like many saloons he had visited. A long bar covered most of one wall. There were several tables, many empty. There was one game of poker going on in the corner of the room. The haze from cigars still hung in the air though only a few people were in the saloon. A stink of beer, whiskey, and vomit filled the room.
"Whiskey," Jess said as he leaned against the bar. He kept his hat low and his back to the patrons.
"Come far?" the bartender asked with a smile. But seeing Jess’ look, he put a glass down on the bar and moved away.
Jess glanced in the mirror, studying each man. But Bonnor wasn’t one of them. Jess relaxed. He nodded towards the bartender.
"You want another drink?"
"I’m looking for someone."
The bartender said nothing.
"He’s about my height. Dark hair, though lighter than mine...."
"Mister, all I serve here is drinks. I don’t serve information."
Without warning, Jess grabbed the bartender by his collar and dragged him halfway across the bar. He now had everyone’s attention in the room. Several of the men stood, their hands resting on their guns.
"Someone get the sheriff!" Jess heard someone cry out.
But Jess paid no attention as his eyes were locked on the bartender. "I’ve been looking a long time," Jess said. "I’m tired. I’m hungry. Now two days ago a man rode into town on a sorrel with a Texas brand.
More than likely he came in here."
"I don’t know nothing about no sorrel."
Jess hit the glass hard against the counter. He brought the glass’s ragged edge close to the bartender’s face. "I’m going to ask you in a friendly way one more time. And if you don’t tell me, then I ain’t going be so friendly."
"He’s upstairs!" a saloon girl standing near the end of the bar called out.
Jess glanced at her. His hold on the bartender never loosened. "Where upstairs?"
"In Molly’s room."
"Which room?"
"Second on the right."
"He been here long?"
She nodded. "Drifted in here two days ago, like you said. Been upstairs since yesterday."
The timing was right. Still she might be lying. Five years ago Frank had friends in Canyon City. Many of them were saloon girls. Jess wasn’t sure about now.
Jess pushed the bartender away then leaned over the counter and grabbed the shotgun that lay nderneath the bar. "You don’t want to get involved in this," Jess warned. His glance included all the men in the bar. Men who were standing, now sat. Others begin to drink or once more started playing cards. Jess unloaded the shotgun. He put the shells in this pocket then started up the stairs.
"What did he do?" the saloon girl asked.
"Killed a woman," Jess said.
"Your woman?"
Jess admitted, "She was once."
"I hope you kill him," she answered. She touched the bruise on her face.
"I need him alive. But afterwards, I just might."
The hallway was dark, lit only by a single oil lantern. The smell was strong of oil and men’s sweat as he walked down the hall. Jess wished that he had taken the time to put on moccasins.
He stopped outside a door and listened to the laughter coming from the room. Light escaped under the door. He turned the knob as slow as he could. The door was locked. His hand wiped across the lower part of his face as he thought. He heard the bed squeak. Someone was moving. Whether it was love making or getting ready to ambush him, he didn’t know. But he knew that he could no longer take the time to plan.
Jess reacted immediately. He kicked once then twice at the door. The hinges rattled as the door loosen. He charged, hitting the door with his shoulder. The door fell to the floor with Jess on top of it. Both hit the floor hard. Jess scrambled to his feet as he pulled out his gun. He glanced around but all he saw was the naked woman.
She sat on the bed, looking so scared that she made no attempt to cover herself. Her eyes were opened wide in terror. "Don’t hurt me! Please!"
"Where is he?" Jess snarled. "Answer me! Where is..." As she glanced at the adjoining door to the other room, Jess heard the gun click.
He turned and threw his body into Frank, who was sneaking from behind the door. The gun went off; the bullet slamming into the wall over the girl’s shoulder. She screamed as if she had been hit. Grabbing a sheet, she ran out of the room into the arms of a crowd that had gathered.
Both Jess and Frank wrestled for the gun that Frank held. Jess slammed Frank’s hand against the doorframe. Again and again, he pounded Frank’s hand against the hard wood as his own hand took a beating.
Frank was taller and stockier than Jess. With Jess still clinging to him, Frank pushed Jess into the wall. Jess didn’t let go of his prey. Once more he slammed Frank’s hand into the wall. This time Frank dropped the gun. Jess hit Frank in the chin then in the nose. Blood poured on both of them. Frank ducked the third hit and delivered one of his own into Jess’ stomach. Jess bent over in pain. It gave Frank the few seconds that he needed to grab the gun off the floor. He pointed and fired at Jess.
Jess dove for the floor as the bullet sped by. Frank fired two more bullets as Jess rolled, dodging the flying lead. The gun click twice alerting Jess that there were no more bullets. Jess jumped to his feet. He hit Frank once in the side of the head then in the chest. As Frank started to fall, Jess spun trying to find his gun that had fallen during the shuffle. The colt had slid under the bed so only the handle was seen.
Frank slowly got to his feet. As Jess started for the weapon, Frank raced for the gun. Both men dove for the weapon. They wrestled, each with a grasp on the colt. Suddenly the gun went off. Both quit moving. For a second, the crowd in the hallway wasn’t sure who was alive and who was dead. Jess slowly stood. Frank lay on the ground motionless. Blood poured from a bullet wound in his neck. Jess didn’t take his pulse. Seeing the body, he knew there was no use. Frank Bonnor was dead.
The burly sheriff pushed through the crowd. "All right! Get your hands up."
Jess raised his hands.
The sheriff leaned over Frank. "He’s dead. Now you want to tell me..."
"That’s Frank Bonnor," Jess said.
"You killed..."
"I wanted him alive to take him back to Laramie!" Jess sat down on the bed, his hands still raised. He tried to catch his breath but was having trouble.
"Easy son. Now why don’t you tell me why you were after him?"
"He killed a woman in Laramie. I was taking him back," Jess explained.
"A woman, you say? You the law?"
Jess just shook his head no.
"A bounty hunter?"
"No."
"Here I thought you killed him for the bounty."
"What bounty? Bonnor served his time."
"Seems he killed a man near Cheyenne over some woman. Man lived long enough to identify Bonnor. Poster came through yesterday. If I had known he was here, I would have locked him up. From what I was told downstairs, he ain’t left this room in almost two days. You’re going to get yourself a good size chunk of money for killing Bonnor. You know, son, most men would look happy but you look like you lost your best friend."
"When I killed Bonnor, I did lose my best friend," Jess mumbled.
The sheriff picked up Jess’ gun. "I’ll give you this when you head out of town." He studied the gun. "This ain’t a gun most cowboys carry. Usually see that kind of weapon on a fast gun."
"You arresting me?"
"No, you done the territory a favor for killing Bonnor. As far as the door, well I’ll take the cost out of your reward. But you should know that I don’t tolerate no gun play in this town. Now you and me going to head to my office. You can tell me where to send the reward money. Then I want you out of town. I’ll give you an hour. Or I will find something to arrest you for."
"Like what?"
"No need to bother with what. I’ll find something. And with the circuit judge only coming through here every month or two, I don’t think you want to wait around for a trial."
The sheriff bent down and went through Bonnor’s pockets. He then searched his saddle bags.
"Sure didn’t have much money. Ain’t hardly enough here to buy a drink."
Jess suddenly moved to the dead body. "He got a ring on him?"
"Ring? What kind of ring?"
"Wedding ring. Gold ring."
The sheriff searched more. "Don’t see any. Did it belong to the woman that he killed?"
Jess started for the hallway. "Where’s the girl he was with?" he asked the first person standing in the doorway.
"Dora? She’s..."
The sheriff stopped Jess from talking to the others. "Now, boy, I don’t want no trouble from you. Your hour is ticking away."
"I got to get that ring!" Jess said. "That might be the only chance Slim has."
The sheriff studied Jess’ face. "You ain’t interested in the reward?"
"Keep it," Jess said. "I only want that ring."
"Is it worth anything?"
"Just to me...Sheriff, I swear!"
"Dora!" the sheriff called out. "Get your butt in here."
The girl appeared with the sheet wrapped around her. "Keep him away from me, Sheriff."
"Hush, girl! Now I got a question for you and I want you to answer me truthfully. That fellow give you a ring?"
"No Sheriff! I swear. He paid like the rest of them do with cash."
Jess neared her. "If you’re lying..."
"Sheriff! Keep him away!" She tried to get behind the sheriff.
The sheriff got in between them. "You back up!"
Jess took a few steps back and held his hands in the air to show that he wanted no trouble.
"Now Dora, you know how I get about someone lying to me. So I’m asking you one more time..."
"I swear! Cash only. I quit bartering about a year ago. I deal only in cash. You ought to know that sheriff from when you come a calling! You ask them other girls he was with. He paid us all cash."
The sheriff turned towards Jess. "She ain’t lying! She knows better than to lie to me."
Jess started to turn away. "Sheriff! You say he ain’t got much money."
The sheriff nodded. "A couple of coins."
"Then where did he get the money to pay her?"
"Guess he had..."
"Slim said he didn’t. Slim only had a few dollars and Bonnor took it all. That’s why he took the ring, hoping to get some money for it. You got a jeweler in this town?"
"Son, we ain’t even got a bank. Now I don’t know who Slim is. But no one here’s got a ring like you’re looking for. Lot of towns between here and Laramie. Bonnor could have sold it in any one of them. Maybe when you go back, you could ask as you pass through..."
Jess looked crushed. "I don’t have enough time."
"Take my advice, get on your horse and ride out of here. You don’t want any more trouble."
"All right, sheriff."
"Where’s your horse?"
"Blacksmith’s."
"I reckon Bonnor’s horse is there too."
"Yeah. I saw the one I trailed."
"Well I’ll walk over with you."
"Scared I ain’t going leave?"
The sheriff half smiled. "No, just want to lay claim on that horse before the smithy sells him. Going cost to bury him. Selling that horse should pay part of the expense."
