hard way, dulled the senses and the reflexes, and with half the
gunslingers in the territory wanting to build their reputations by
killing him in a shoot-out, he wasn't about to drink anything more
dulling than water.
Someone was having a mighty fine time. He heard laughter again and
tried to turn his head toward the sound. Pain shot up from the base of
his neck, causing bile to rush to his throat. Ah, Lord, he felt like
hell.
"Looks like he's coming around, Josey. You'd best get on back home
before he starts growling and spewing. You're liable to get your
feelings hurt." Sheriff Tom Norton stared through the bars of the cell
while he addressed his wife of thirty years.
Josey Norton scurried away before Cole could get his eyes focused. It
took him a minute to realize where he was. He gritted his teeth as he
sat up on the narrow cot and swung his legs to the floor. His hands
gripped the mattress and his head dropped to his chest.
He studied the sheriff through bloodshot eyes. Norton was an older man
with weather-beaten skin, a potbelly, and melancholy eyes. He looked
like a harmless hound dog.
"Why am I in jail? " The question was issued in a sharp whisper.
The sheriff leaned against the bars, crossed one ankle over the other,
and smiled. "You broke the law, son."
"How? " "Disturbing the peace."
"What? " "No need to shout. I can see it pained you.
You've got a nice bump on the back of your head, and I don't suppose
yelling is gonna make you feel better. Don't you remember what
happened? " Cole shook his head and immediately regretted it. Pain
exploded behind his eyes.
"I remember being sick."
"Yes, you had the influenza. You were sick with fever for four days,
and my Josey nursed you back to health.
Today was your second day out of bed."
"When did I disturb the peace?
" "When you crossed the street, " he said cheerfully. "It was real
disturbing to me, the way you walked away while I was trying so hard to
convince you to stay in Middleton until the appointment came through.
I gave my word to someone real important that I would keep you here,
son, but you wouldn't cooperate."
"So you hit me over the head."
"Yes, I did, " he admitted. "I didn't see any other way. It wasn't
much of a hit though, just a little thump with the butt of my pistol on
the back of your head. No permanent damage was done, or you wouldn't
be sitting there growling at me.
Besides, I did you a favor." The sheriff's chipper voice was grating
on Cole's nerves. He glared at him and asked, "How do you figure
that?
" "There were two gunslingers waiting for you to get into the street.
Both of them were determined to make you drawţone at a time, of
course.
You were just getting over your sick spell, and even though you won't
admit it, I'd wager a week's pay you weren't well enough to take either
one of them on. The influenza hit you hard, son, and you're only just
now getting your color back. Yes sirree, I did you a favor."
"It's all coming back to me."
"Put it behind you, " he suggested." Cause it's water under the sink
now. The appointment came through, and we had us a nice ceremony right
here in the jail. It seemed kind of odd to file into your cell for a
big do, but the judge didn't mind and it worked out all right. Yes, it
did.
Too bad you had to sleep through the celebration, since you were the
honoree and all. My wife, Josey, made her special yellow cake with
sugar icing. She cut you a nice big piece and left it on the table
over there, " he added with a nod toward the opposite side of the
cell.
"You'd best eat it before the mice get to it.
Cole was becoming more frustrated by the second. Most of what the
sheriff was telling him didn't make any sense. "Answer my questions, "
he demanded. "You said that someone important wanted to keep me
here.
Who was it? " "Marshal Daniel Ryan, that's who. He should be along
any minute now to let you out."
"Ryan's here? That no-good, low-down, thievingţ" "Hold on now. There
ain't no need to carry on.
The marshal told me you've been bearing a grudge against him. He said
it had something to do with a compass and gold case he's been keeping
safe for you." Cole's head was rapidly clearing. "My mother was
bringing me the compass, and Ryan stole it from her. He doesn't have
any intention of giving it back. I'm going to have to take it from
him."
"I think you might be wrong about that, " Norton said with a chuckle.
It was futile to argue with him. Cole decided to save his wrath for
the man who was responsible for locking him up . . . Daniel Ryan. He
couldn't wait to get his hands on him.
"Are you going to let me out of here and give me my guns back? " "I'd
surely like to."
"But? " "But I can't, " the sheriff said. "Ryan's got the keys. I've
got to take some papers across town to the judge, so why don't you sit
tight and eat some cake? I shouldn't be gone long." The sheriff
turned to leave. "One more thing, " he drawled out.
"Congratulations, son. I'm sure you'll do your family proud."
"Wait!
" Cole called out. "Why are you congratulating me? " Norton didn't
answer him. He sauntered into the outer office, and a minute later
Cole heard the front door open and close. He shook his head in
confusion. He didn't know what the old man had been rambling on
about.
Why would he congratulate him?
He glanced around the stark cellţgray walls, gray bars, and gray
floor.
On a three-legged stand in the corner was a grayspeckled basin and a
water jug next to the piece of cake the sheriff's wife had left for
him. The only other adornment was the black spider crawling up the
painted stones of the wall. There was another one hanging from its web
in the barred windowsill high up by the ceiling.
Cole was over six feet tall, but in order to look out, he would have to
stand on a chair. There weren't any inside the cell. He could see a
fragment of the sky, though, and like his temporary home, it too was
gray.
The color fit his mood. He was in a no-win situation. He couldn't
very well shoot Norton, since his wife had nursed him back to health.
The sheriff had probably saved his life, as well, by knocking him out
before the gunslingers had challenged him. Cole remembered the
influenza had left him weak and shaky. He would have died in a
gunfight all right, but damn it all, did Norton have to hit him so
hard? His head still felt as if it had been split in two.
He reached up to rub the knot in the back of his neck, and his right
arm bumped against cold metal. He looked down, then froze when he
realized what he was staring at. A gold case dangled from a chain
someoneţRyan most likelyţhad clipped to the pocket of his leather
vest.
The son of a bitch had finally given him his treasure back. He gently
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