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Episode Six concluded
with:
Tully listened to Rance’s departing
footsteps and then began to cry. He cried for the Marshall he had killed two
years back, he wept for a life he had never lived, for friendships never made
and for the girl he had loved when he was fourteen and whose name he couldn’t
remember.
Tully
thought he heard Rance’s footsteps hurrying back and tried to stop the tears.
He couldn’t let Rance see him bawling like a baby. That would be a terrible
humiliation, he had to stop…
When
the detective crouched over Tully Brooks, he knew the cold cloth would be of no
use. He mistook the dampness on the outlaw’s face for perspiration.
Episode Seven
***
Sheriff Rush Hunter approached the
two revelers who were firing guns outside the Lucky Mine saloon. This was a
routine matter and he was treating it as such.
“Do everyone a favor, gents, and
holster those guns.” Hunter’s voice was friendly.
The men did what they were told but
one of them, a short, muscular man whose face reflected many months of mining
and few baths, looked at the lawman scornfully.
“Guess we best do what the star packer says or we might end up in
territorial prison for fifteen years.”
His companion, a red headed miner
with hostile eyes and a slight limp, spit on the ground. The saliva landed at a
safe distance from the lawman but Rush Hunter got the message. The sheriff
wanted to say something, but contented himself with walking off. He could hear
the guffaws behind him.
Rush wanted desperately to return
to his office or go anywhere else except his destination. But the sheriff had
an appointment that had to be kept. Hunter could hear the two miners laugh
mockingly as he stepped into the bank. One of them shouted, “The lawdog is goin’
to lick his master’s boots!” Rush Hunter ignored the remarks. Ignoring insults
was something he was doing a lot of recently.
Inside, the Bank of Hard Stone
looked pretty much like any other small town bank. Tellers’ cages dominated the
far wall. George Conklin’s office was off to one side. The door to the office
was closed.
There was one difference about The
Bank of Hard Stone. A large desk perched in front of Conklin’s office, and
during business hours, an older man named Thorton Weaver sat there. Thorton had
once owned a restaurant, but had sold his establishment and retired.
Apparently, he went through most of his money and now worked for the bank
doing…Rush couldn’t figure out what the old man did, but you had to get past
him in order to talk with George Conklin.
“Good afternoon, Sheriff!” Thorton
was always friendly; for some reason that grated on Rush Hunter.
“Afternoon, Thorton, I’m here to
see Mr. Conklin.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
Hunter couldn’t keep the
exasperation out of his voice. “Yes.”
“And for what time?” Thorton
remained cheerful, apparently unaware of the lawman’s dark mood.
“Two PM!”
“Let me check,” Thorton lifted the
page of a tablet in front of him, then pulled out his pocket watch. “Yes
indeed, Sheriff. You have an appointment for two and you are right on time!”
Thorton Weaver smiled benignly at
the lawman. “I’ll tell Mr.Conklin you’re here.”
He arose from his desk and walked
in a ceremonious manner toward Conklin’s office, where he knocked twice and
entered upon hearing Conklin shout, “Yes!” from inside.
Weaver closed the door, then
reappeared a few moments later, closing the door behind him. He paraded back to
his desk and announced, “Mr. Conklin is very busy with some important work
right now. He will see you in a few minutes.” Thorton lifted an arm toward a
bench by the front door. “Please take a seat.”
Rush Hunter sat down very carefully
on what he figured had to be the most uncomfortable bench in Colorado. Thorton
and the one teller on duty both looked away to hide their chuckles. For the
second time in less than fifteen minutes, Rush Hunter was being laughed at.
Tomorrow: Episode Eight of Last Job
