Page 49 of Charlotte's Reckoning
“After I threw his gun away, he was unarmed,”Charlotte explained.
“He’s also unmanned,”a man called out, prompting laughter from their growing audience.
“That’s what you call balls-on accurate, Sneed,”another man joked to more chuckles.
“He won’t be playing without paying again soon,”yet another called, adding with a whistle. “That was one helluva shot, but dang... It’s gotta hurt.”
Charlotte handed her gun to Fen, eager to get rid of it. “Would you see to him while I see to Prue?”
“What makes you think I care about a thiefbleeding in thealley?”he asked in response.
“You can’t leave me here to die!”Prue’s attacker called in a sniveling, pain-riddled voice.
“Watch me,”Fen challenged as he took Charlotte’s arm and they returned inside together.
Chapter 12
A New Sheriff in Town
As he rode through the dusty streets of Laramie, Seth was amazed by how much it had changed. What had once been a small settlement of tents along the overland trail had grown into a bustling town with thriving businesses and a flourishing population. Main Street had a booming business district with new shops and restaurants, and it seemed like a church was on every corner. To the north were several sprawling blocks of houses, all neat and quiet, with glass windows, flowers, and children’s toys in the yards.
South of MainStreet was the factory district, including the rail yard, a glass plant, and a slaughterhouse, to name a few—all new. Nearby, the tents that he remembered still stood. There were at least ten times as many now, though, overcrowded, squalid, and filthy. Then came Sixth Street—a rough, disreputable block filled with saloons, brothels, and bathhouses.
He entered city hall past business hours, and no one was around. The mayor’s office door stood open. As Seth approached, a man suddenly came striding out. Aaron Jackson, the reason he was here, stood an inch taller, several inches broader, and weighed at least thirty pounds more than him.
“Walker,”he said, offering his hand. “You’re just in time.”
With lingering skepticism, Seth shook his hand, his eyes narrowed. This had been his state of mind since their chance meeting in Denver a week agowhen the formermarshal had made his outlandish suggestion.
Over the years, their paths crossed many times as they worked toward the same aim: capturing the most dangerous fugitives in the West. While their motivations differed, Marshal Jackson’s bringing them to justice and Seth’sthereward money, theyachieved the same outcome—putting the worst of the worst behind bars—and developed a mutual respect for one another.
Jackson had experienced several changes in the last few years, including getting married, having a baby on the way, and winning the recent mayoral election in a landslide. Seth recognized the challenges he now faced—envying some and pitying others. As mayor, he would need to share some of his burdens to succeed, which was why Seth was there today.
“Have a seat,”Jackson said, waving toward the ladder-back chairs in the sparsely furnished lobby. “I’m on my way to brief the council on the new agenda item.”
“Are you sure about this?”
The man’s face was shadowed beneath the lowbrim of hisblack hat, but Seth knew he was sizing him up. “If we’re ever going to getthelawlessness inLaramieunder control, I need a competent sheriff. The last man didn’t give citizens’ concerns the time of day and turned a blind eye to everythingsouth of Main. He excused crime as decent, hardworking men letting off steam. I’m not saying we shut down the saloons, dance halls, and brothels, just the kidnappings, nightly shootings, and opium rings.”
“You’re painting a grim picture of the job you want me to take.”
Jackson nudgedhishat up with his thumb, revealing narrowed eyes. “Did I read you wrong, Walker? Are you saying you’re not up to it?”
“No. I’m the man to do it if your council doesn’t mind my history. As I told you when you made the offer, I don’t lie about my past, but I don’t broadcast it, either.”
“That’s firmly behind you, right?”
“Absolutely,” Seth replied.
Jackson said with a nod, “The council and townsfolk keep looking to me for answers, so they’ll just have to accept my solution.”
Watching the man lift his hat and run his fingers through his full head of hair reminded Seth that he was just three years his senior. To go from sheriff to marshal to mayor by the age of thirty-one was impressive.
“Be right back,”he said and strode across the wood floor and out the door, his boot heels echoing with determination.
Seth followed at a slower pace. Out in the empty hall, Seth didn’t sit and wait. Instead, he crossed to the windows and gazed out atthe sun settingbehindthemountains inthewest. If approved for the job, reducingthelawlessness inLaramiewould consume every minute of his time. The prospect was a mighty big“if,”given the heated conversation behind the closed door. Since he was the topic of discussion, Seth didn’t pretend not to listen.
“We can’t have an outlaw as our sheriff!”a man exclaimed in a high-pitched, nasal twang.
