Marie Miller was a shrewd woman—commonly thought of as the scariest in town. Her family had been running the inn since Sur Posta was founded. The whole town was basically built around the inn, so the Millers should have been one of the wealthier families in town. According to Marie, the Mayor had swindled her father out of most of their wealth before she was even born. The inn was the only thing they had left. Marie swore up and down that one day she'd make that damned Mayor pay for what he did to her family. The best advice Flint had for her was simple: Don't get caught.
They noticed the inn was unusually quiet as they rode up to it. Normally they saw families milling about, getting ready to continue the trip westward. There were still some carts and wagons out front, but surprisingly nobody was outside of the three-story building. The Sheriff counted the carts and wagons and noticed there were far more outside than there should have been for this time of day. Flint and Dr. Daver looked at each other suspiciously. They tied up their horses to whatever open post they could find and walked up to the door of the inn. Flint tried pulling the door open, but it didn't budge.
Odd, he thought, Why is the door locked?
“I didn't even think they could lock the door,” Dr. Daver said, trying to open the door himself. “What do we do now?”
“Knock, obviously.” Flint started banging on the door. “Marie? It's Flint! Why are y'all all locked up in there?” He continued knocking until they heard something moving behind the door. Flint stopped as he saw a frazzled brunette stepping out of the door, glaring daggers at him and carrying a gun.
“Sheriff! What the hell are you doing callin' me out here? You tryin' to get us killed?”
“Get us ki—Marie what are you goin' on about?”
“You already know there's a murderer on the loose, Sheriff! We can't be too careful!”
“Murde—Marie, there ain't no murderer on the loose.” Flint shook his head.
Marie's glare focused, “You caught ‘im then?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then there's still a murderer on the loose!”
“She's got you there, Sheriff.” The doctor shrugged his shoulders, finding no fault in the logic.
“You are not helping.”
“And him!” She pointed the gun at Dr. Daver, “I'll bet he's the one who did it!” Flint put up his hands quickly. The doctor just chuckled.
“Now, Marie,” he started, looking into her eyes, “There's no reason for you to be wavin' that gun around. Why don't you just put it on down now?” Her expression softened for a second and lowered the gun, but then she got angry again and pointed it at the doctor again. He sighed and shook his head. Time to move to Plan B. “Marie, I need you to think about all the times you have called me out here in the dead of night. How many guests at your inn have needed my services for things that you don't want to talk about? Mrs. Miller, I have selflessly come to help all manner of fugitive and stranger at your inn, at all hours of the day. Why would I kill anyone in town, much less that helpless little girl whose brother is taking refuge at your inn?”
Marie thought about what the doctor said and then lowered the gun, but still glared at the two men. “Fine. You didn't do it. I don't know why you gotta drag me out here to talk about it though.”
“Well, we would have gone inside, but you locked up.” Flint said bluntly. “We're trying to find James. Is he still here?”
“The poor boy is upstairs, sleeping. You can't tell me you mean to pester him more?”
“Unfortunately, I've got a few more questions he needs to answer. As long as he answers truthfully and honestly, we won't be up there too long.”
Marie just rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Fine. But don't you cause a ruckus in there. It's bad enough you've got all these folks in there worked up and worried.” They followed her into the inn, and she closed and barred the door behind them. The lobby was a small room—cozy, not cramped—lit by a few oil lamps with a large wooden counter near the back. There was a door in the back left corner of the room behind the counter and a stairwell to the counter's right. On the right wall was an open doorway, and Flint could see families packed into Marie's small dining room. “I've got too much to do for everybody here, so you're gonna have to go up to the room yourself.” She walked behind the counter and grabbed a key from behind it. “Room 3 on the second floor. Knock before you go in at least.”
“Much obliged.” Flint took the key, and the two men walked up the stairs to the second floor. Flint walked up to the room with a large metal “3” nailed to it and knocked on the door. “James? It's Sheriff Waters. You awake in there?” They waited a moment, and then Flint knocked again, “James? You in there? I'm coming in.” Flint unlocked the door, and they walked into the room. It was a small space with barely enough room for the bed and nightstand. The Inn rooms were never kept very well-furnished since most of the travelers only needed to stop for a night or two. They saw James sleeping soundly in the bed. They sighed and Flint tried rousing him.
“Heavy sleeper. Is he even still alive?” Flint mused. The doctor checked his pulse.
“He is. We've just got to encourage him a bit. Wait here.” Dr. Daver left the room, leaving a confused Flint wondering where he could even go. After a couple of minutes, the doctor returned carrying a glass of water. Flint just watched as the doctor threw the water on James, who sprang to life in a panic.
“What's goin' on?! Who's there?!” He flailed his arms around as if he was looking for something.
“James, calm down. It's me, Sheriff Waters.” Flint's voice was calm and firm. The doctor just gave Flint the glass with a smirk. Flint took it and shook his head. “James, it's just me.”
“Sheriff?” James rubbed his eyes and wiped off his face. He sat up and looked at both of them with a confused look. “What are you doing here? Did you find whoever killed my sister?”
“We're still investigatin', but we have some more questions for you.”
“Why me?”
“Because you haven't been honest with us, son.” Flint's stare was cold, “I asked some folks questions about you and your sister, and came out with more questions than answers, so I need you to stop messin' around.”
“But I was honest!” James looked at Dr. Daver, “And what's he doing here?”
The doctor just put a hand on James's shoulder and looked him in the eyes, “Just answer our three questions, and be truthful about it. Then I'll be on my way.” He watched James's eyes glaze over. The doctor took back his hand and looked at the Sheriff, “Make ‘em count, Sheriff.”
Only three questions. Not nearly as many as he'd hoped, but it was better than nothing. He'd ask the important questions he needed answers to, “What'd Gregor offer you to stay in Sur Posta?”
“Five acres, a mule, and two-hundred dollars.”
“That's quite an offer. You must be very valuable to him. Why'd you turn him down?”
“I hadn't. He told me about the offer yesterday and I wanted to talk to my sister about it first.”
If Gregor did kill Violet, then he didn't kill her to keep James from leaving. That didn't clear him as a suspect; they still needed to know what crisis of faith led him to the Church so early in the morning. This answer did, however, absolve James of the crime. He truly had not seen his sister before the murder. Hopefully he'd get more clarity about what happened when they found Joel. Those were concerns for later though. Right now, he had one more question to ask.
“Why'd y'all leave Virginia?”
“Because my sister killed our daddy.” As the light came back into his eyes, James realized what he'd said and covered his mouth. Flint couldn't believe what he'd heard. That young woman he saw had killed her father?
“I suppose that's as good a reason as any to run away from home,” Flint took off his hat and scratched his head. He looked over to the doctor, who just shrugged.
“This is your rodeo, Sheriff. I've got to uphold my end of the deal, so I'll head back downstairs and see if anyone in that packed crowd downstairs needs my assistance.” Dr. Daver walked out of the room and closed the door, leaving Flint and James alone. Flint sighed and crossed his arms.
“Alright, son, well ain't no more use lyin' about it. Violet killed your daddy, so you both ran away from home?”
“You can't send us back, Sheriff! If we go back, they'll—”
“Son, your sister is dead. Even if I were that kind of lawman, as far as any law I'm aware of is concerned, justice for your father's death has been served. ‘Sides, Virigina's got bigger problems right now than one girl killin' her daddy. So, why'd she do it?”
“Our family owned slaves. Only three, but still. Momma and Daddy were satisfied with the way things were and didn't want no change. Then, of course, the threat to secede rolled around and Daddy was all for it. The North was coming to take our slaves and our way of life away. We only had three, and they just took care of our housework. We didn't even do any farming. I didn't really understand what he was so up in arms about, but I didn't want to sit through one of his rants. If you got ‘im started, there's no tellin' when he would stop.” James rolled his eyes, “Anyway, when the war rolled around, he found other ways to support without havin' to send me off to fight. ‘War's a poor man's game' he'd say, which I don't rightly understand considerin' we weren't exactly wealthy, but I suppose I'm grateful to ‘im.”
“So, what does your sister have to do with all that?”
“Well, Violet knew how to read, and Momma always said she was a curious child. She'd talk with anybody and ask them about anything. I suppose she got talkin' to the abolitionists one day and they changed her mind about slave ownin'. She brought it up to Daddy's face so many times. At first, he just laughed ‘cause he didn't figure she was serious. She was just a kid; she didn't know any better. But then the years went on and she kept bringin' it up to him how he should let the slaves go free. They argued with each other so often. Daddy kept threatenin' to marry her off, but she was so pigheaded that she drove every possible suitor away. Then the war started, and their fights got worse. Once we caught wind that General Lee was surrenderin', Daddy said he'd rather die than let the slaves go free.”
“And I'm assumin' that's when she did it. How'd she manage it?”
“Poison. I told you Violet knew how to read, and there wasn't nothing Momma wouldn't let her. She had read about all these different kinds of things that were poisonous if you ate ‘em. Daddy liked to have himself some tea every day—tryin' t'be like one of them fancy Englishmen. Hated the stuff, but he forced himself to drink it. Obviously, we all knew his daily routine. The day she killed Daddy, Violet made a big deal that she was making his tea for him. She wanted everyone to know that she had found a way to make his tea taste better. She kicked everyone out of the kitchen, lockin' herself in there until the tea was done. Then she took the tray out to Daddy. As Daddy was dyin', Momma tore into her and asked what she'd done. Violet had no shame, she admitted to everything. Momma told us to run as far and as fast as we could. So, we did, and here we are.”
Flint just nodded his head slowly, absorbing the story. “I see. That's quite a story. Have y'all been chased down by anyone since leavin'?”
James shook his head, “No. We try to lay low and don't stay in one place for too long. We usually pick larger towns or cities to hide in. Sur Posta's the smallest town we've stayed in, so it was a little harder for us to be strangers.”
“It's also a little backwater town, so it's not like many lawmen would come lookin' for y'all up here.” Flint shrugged, “That bein' so, your sister wasn't too keen on layin' low and runnin' away all the time, was she?”
James shot Flint a dirty glare, “What d'you mean, Sheriff?”
“Well, I can't speak for how your travels have gone before arriving in my sleepy little town, but I did speak with some folks before comin' around to find you. Violet passionately hated vice—slavery, gamblin', drinkin', smokin'—you've told me as much yourself, but there was one thing she could not get away from: money.” James grit his teeth angrily. Flint knew he was hitting a nerve. “Now, you said y'all didn't grow up wealthy, and I believe that, but you didn't grow up poor either. Your family owned people. Slaves ain't cheap. Sure, y'all didn't have a whole plantation, but you had something. Daddy certainly wanted to play richer than he was, but don't pretend like y'all were out beggin' for alms on the street.”
“So what?!” James snapped, “What are you tryin' to say about my sister?”
Flint put his hands up, “I ain't tryin' to say nothin' ‘bout her character. What I will say is that a girl like her got used to a certain way of life. You don't spend twenty-some-odd years livin' one way and then get comfy livin' on the run. She wanted comforts she could not have, and she was gonna find ways to get those comforts. I doubt she ever knew a man, but there were men she liked, weren't there?” James continued glaring. “She didn't just like any men, though. She liked men with money.”
“I'll kill any man who calls my sister a no-good whore!”
“I didn't say she was. In fact, I'd say I said the opposite. So then, why is that your opinion?” James just kept gritting his teeth and glaring. “Plenty of big cities and towns between here and Virginia. It's easy to blend in and keep quiet. Lawmen could search for years and never find y'all. So why keep runnin'?” James still didn't respond, and Flint shook his head, “Don't clam up on me now. Why'd you keep runnin'?”
“You're right, Sheriff. Violet had her vices, just like everyone else. We were never poor growin' up. We never worried about nothin'. We were always taken care of. When Violet and I ran away, we had to give all that up. She hated livin' like a damn rat in whatever hole we could find. I didn't much like it either, but I found ways to tolerate it.” He sighed, “She did too, in her own way. Unfortunately, her own way meant findin' rich men to cozy on up to. Neither of us were a stranger to gossip before, but her getting' friendly with those types of folks meant she was gonna get attention we didn't want. Then people'd start askin' questions and eventually it'd just be too much to handle before we'd have to leave again. We'd only really be able to stay in the same place for a few months.”
Flint nodded his head again, “How do you think she would have taken Gregor's offer?”
James shrugged, “She might've been fine with it. She never did like Sur Posta, but we'd have more here than we ever did anywhere else.” He shook his head, “At least she wouldn't have to work for Joel anymore.”
“That'd've been good for both their sakes.” Flint sighed. He took out the knife and showed it to James. “You recognize this knife?”
James took it and looked it over, “It looks like the knife we had at home. Why do you have this, Sheriff?”
The sheriff took it back, “It was the murder weapon. I suppose it lends further evidence to the theory that this wasn't a planned murder.” He put the knife away again, “Alright, well we've got more investigatin' to do. Gregor's been givin' me some headache, so Imma see about having another talk with him. You haven't heard anything about Joel, have you?” James shook his head. “Damn it all. Hopefully we find him soon so I can question him.”
“You haven't talked to Joel?”
“Marguerite doesn't know where he is. He's missing, apparently. Whether or not it's connected to your sister's murder, I don't know. Hopefully we find him soon though.” As Flint turned to leave, he looked back at James, “Get some rest, son. Hopefully I'll have figured out who the killer is the next time we talk.”
Closing the door behind him, Flint walked back downstairs. Marie was standing behind the counter, and he handed the key back to her. He asked where the good doctor had gone, and she pointed to the other room. Flint walked into the packed room and saw Dr. Daver looking at someone's eyes. His hat and coat were hanging over the chair he was sitting on, and he had his sleeves pulled up, exposing his smooth and slender pale arms. The bag was open on the table. Flint could see different medical instruments and vials, both empty and full, packed inside. There were even a few closed metal cannisters with some indistinct labels too.
“You'll be fine. Ain't much I can do for your eyes, but you can put a wet rag over them to help with the dust and irritation. As for the body aches, let me see what I have.” He looked in the bag and grabbed two of the cannisters and a vial full of a yellow liquid. Dr. Daver fished around in the bag for another, smaller cannister and a small spoon. “There's only so much I can make you here, but if you're still in town tomorrow, come by my home. If this works, I'll make you more to take with you. If not, I'll try something else.” He opened all the canisters and scooped some of the contents of the larger ones into the smaller. Then he opened the vial and poured about a quarter of the contents into the small canister. Finally, the doctor mixed the concoction until it formed a paste. He closed the cannister and handed it to his patient. “Rub this wherever you feel the aches. You don't need too much, just enough for a thin layer. You can wash it off when it dries.” The patient thanked Dr. Daver and walked away.
“Gonna be here a while, Doc?” Flint asked as Dr. Daver wiped his hands with a nearby rag.
“I'll be just a bit. Got a couple toothaches and bruises to look at.”
“Well, make it quick. The day's not getting' any younger and we've gotta talk to Gregor.”
The doctor just waved Flint away as his next patient walked up to him. Flint walked to the inn's front door and told Marie he was going outside. Marie tried talking him out of it, but he ignored her. Flint could hear her swearing at him as she barred the door again. He walked over to their horses and checked up on them. He grabbed a grain bag off his horse's saddle and offered them a small treat. The doctor's horse refused the gift and Flint just rolled his eyes. He couldn't imagine there being such thing as an uppity spoiled horse, but the doctor was full of surprises. More for his horse, he supposed.
As Flint tended to his horse, he heard hoofbeats approaching. He looked and saw Henry riding in at a full gallop. Oh good, he thought, Looks like we've found Joel. He walked out to meet the Deputy.
“Sheriff! Sheriff, come quick!” Good news so far. “Joel's in trouble!”
“Come again?”
“Joel's in trouble!” The Deputy jumped off his horse and gave the Sheriff a note. “He's been kidnapped!”
“Kidnapped?” Flint looked at the very poorly written note. We've takin taken Joel Mondez hos hots hostage. Bring us $25 $250 and a bottle of wiskee whiskey and we'll return him. P.S. Don't tell the Sherf Shirif Sheriff “Damn it all.”
“What do we do, Sheriff?”
“Do we know who took him?”
“They're a bunch of upstarts callin' themselves the Whiskey Gang. Ain't nobody in town ever heard of them before.”
“So, they're gettin' their start kidnappin' the proprietor of the saloon?” Flint shook his head, “They've certainly got some balls on ‘em, that's for sure.” Although, he thought, It's real suspect that they've taken the one person connected to the murder we haven't been able to talk to. “Alright, where're they hidin' out?”
“Where's who hidin' out?” The doctor walked out of the inn, again wearing his hat and coat.
“Evidently Joel's been kidnapped.” He handed the doctor the note, “We've got to go negotiate his release.”
“Oh? You're gonna give them what they want?”
“Well, if what they want is my boot in their ass and a night in my jail, then they're gettin' exactly what they want. Where have they holed up, Deputy?”
Henry shook his head, “You're not gonna believe this.” He told them where they were holding Joel.
Flint did not believe it. He rubbed his eyes with both of his hands after hearing where this “Whiskey Gang” was hidden. “You've got to be kidding me.” Flint looked over to the doctor, who was also in disbelief. “Alright, well looks like we've gotta go and clear them out. You comin', Deputy?”
“With all due respect, gentlemen,” Dr. Daver spoke up before Henry could respond, “I think I'll be of more assistance here as well.”
“Don't you got more house calls to make?” Henry asked annoyedly, “Besides, the Sheriff and I can handle this without you.”
“I've never known the Sheriff to turn down my help.”
“What are you gettin' at?” Flint asked, eyeing the doctor suspiciously.
The doctor just shrugged, “Well, Sheriff, I believe my particular talents will help us free the unlawfully detained Joel Mondez much faster than if you and the Deputy went in by yourselves.”
“How exactly could you help?” the deputy asked.
“Well, Deputy, as you are aware, I can be very persuasive. I've also been known to be quite stealthy from time-to-time. I know you boys are interested in breaking some bones and calling me down to your jail to help patch them up after, but I'm a busy man. That's valuable time I could be using to treat the patients of the town who really need my assistance. Come to think of it, I haven't had a chance to rest at all today. I get sloppy when I'm tired.”
“Fine,” Flint ceded to the doctor's point, “Doc, you can come with us—”
“No, I believe the Deputy needs to stay here.” He looked right into Henry's eyes, “Marie could use the extra help protecting those innocent guests of hers.”
Henry blinked, and then looked at Flint, “He's right, Sheriff. I could help Marie out here.”
“What are you talkin' about?” Flint's voice was incredulous.
“Well, Sheriff, now we have a rampaging gang on our hands. Who knows what kind of harm will befall those poor travelers?”
Flint rubbed his temples, “Just because Marie's all worked up over this doesn't mean we have to feed into her delusions.”
“Come now, Sheriff.” Dr. Daver shrugged, “We're not feeding into her delusion. In fact, you could say we're keeping it contained and from spreading out into the town.”
Flint sighed, knowing there was no talking the Doctor (or Henry now) out of this. “Fine. Deputy, you stay here and keep Marie calm. Don't you mention a word of this gang to her, y'hear?” He looked to the doctor again, “You're with me again. Let's get movin'.” They both got on their horses and started riding to the gang's “hideout.” They rode out again to the forest at the south edge of town and got off their horses as they got closer to the gang's hideout. They didn't want to risk their horses if this was an actual serious gang.
“Alright, Doc,” Flint spoke quietly, “What's the real reason you came with me?”
“I need something these boys can give me.”
“I don't know if you want what they've got. With a name like ‘the Whiskey Gang' I feel like they're only about one thing.”
“At least one of them's got to be sober, and that's all I need.”
Flint shook his head, “We'll see. Remember, the first thing we've gotta do is get Joel out of there.”
“Don't worry about that too much, Sheriff. If these boys are as unserious as you believe, they'll be much easier to persuade.”
“Wouldn't that make it harder?”
“As long as I can make eye contact and they can hear me, that's all I need most times. Inebriation oftentimes weakens one's mental fortitude, which only makes my job easier.”
“But Marie—”
“Marie truly feared for her life. The body's defenses are heightened in stressful situations like hers, and my charms aren't as effective.”
“Then why don't your silly tricks work on me?”
The doctor shrugged, “Truly I do not know, Sheriff.”
They stopped the chatter as they saw the cabin that James and Violet were staying in.
“Now why the hell would they choose here, of all places, to hide out?” Flint muttered to himself. He sighed before yelling, “Alright, boys! This is Sheriff Flint waters! I understand you've got a hostage there in that cabin!”
“Did you bring what we wanted?” Flint heard a man yelling from inside the cabin. His voice was familiar, and he sounded sober.
“Now, listen boys, I don't want any trouble!”
“Then why didn't y'bring what we wanted?” Another man yelled from the woods. Less sober.
“Don't y'all think your demands are a bit much? $250 and a bottle of whiskey?”
“We know who we've got in here!” A third man yelled from a different side of the woods. Also less sober.
“Sheriff!” Flint heard Joel crying out from inside the cabin, “Sheriff, please help! I think they're going to hurt me!”
“Calm down now, Joel. Ain't nobody gettin' hurt!”
“Somebody's gettin' hurt if you don't have what we want!” The man inside the cabin yelled. “Ain't that right, boys!” A small chorus of “yeahs” came from the woods.
Flint shook his head, “How many of y'all are there out here?”
“We're not tellin'!” The fourth man sounded like he was near the cabin, maybe relieving himself? Flint was unsure, but he sounded very drunk.
“By my guess, there are six of y'all out here! Am I close?”
The second man in the woods laughed, “Stupid Sheriff. There are only five of us!”
“What are you doin'?!” the man in the cabin yelled back.
“Alright, five of y'all! Now, I'm not sure how new any of y'all are to Sur Posta, but you don't seem to know who I am!” Flint took a step towards the cabin.
“Don't take another step, Sheriff!” The man inside the cabin said, “If you come any closer, I'll kill Joel!”
“Now why would you do that? Kidnappin's one thing, but murder's another! Besides, why would I give you what you want if you don't have a hostage anymore?”
“Because—Well, because—” the man in the cabin started stammering and losing his confidence. Good.
“Since you so rudely interrupted me, let me tell you who I am! I am Sheriff Flint Waters! Little Earl the Murderer? I shot him dead! Marino Del Toro? His gang ain't here no more because of me! Cristoph Gantz the tax cheat? I got that man put away for a long time! You must be out of your damned minds if you think I can't handle four drunks in the forest!”
“We already told you there are five of us, Sheriff!”
“I know how to count!” Flint took a defiant step towards the cabin.
“Don't you do it, Sheriff! I will kill him!” Flint could hear the anxiety in the man's voice.
“Then be a goddamn man and do it!” Flint kept marching towards the cabin. The man kept yelling at Flint, trying to get him to stop, but Flint just ignored him. As he started walking to the cabin's door, he heard the fourth man yelling and saw him running closer, holding up a small knife. Flint let out a frustrated huff as the man got closer, and then swiftly punched the man in the face. The man hit the cabin wall and slid down to the ground unconscious. Flint just shook out his hand and continued walking. He could hear panicked whispers coming from inside of the cabin. They were too quiet to hear clearly, but it sounded like Joel was trying to strategize with his kidnapper? Flint stood imposingly in the doorway. He saw Joel in a back corner of the room with his feet tied together and his hands tied behind his back. Flint eyed the kidnapper suspiciously. He had tied a black bandana over his nose and mouth, but there was something familiar about the man's short reddish hair and brown eyes.
“Don't move!” The man's voice wavered. “I'll—I'll kill him!” Flint could see the man's hand trembling as he pointed his handgun at Joel. He didn't even have his finger on the trigger. Flint had seen enough wannabe crooks in his time that he knew how to call a bluff. In one quick motion, Flint unholstered his gun and fired at the kidnapper, just barely missing his leg. The man dropped to one knee and dropped is gun, screaming out in pain.
“You shot me!”
“I grazed you, you baby.” Flint walked up and pointed his gun at the man's forehead, “The next shot won't.” He put his hands up.
“Flint, thank God, I'm so glad to see you.” Joel started talking quickly.
“I've got questions for you, but you have to wait.” Flint's firm voice shut Joel up. His attention turned back to the man, “You the leader of this “gang,” son?” He nodded nervously. “How long have you been in Sur Posta?”
“On-only a-a week or t-two, sir.”
“Is that right? Why'd you take Joel hostage?”
“Well, he-he was a w-witness, sir.”
“A witness to what?”
“To the c-cr-crime we c-com-committed.”
“What crime did y'all commit?”
“They killed someone, Sheriff!” Joel shouted out.
“Did they, now?” Flint looked suspiciously at the supposed “gang” leader. “Looks like I've got someone else to ask a few questions.”
“Is that so?” Dr. Daver walked into the cabin.
“Where's the rest of this so-called “gang,” doc?”
“Exceptin' the one you've got knocked out outside the cabin, they're making the long walk back to the jailhouse.”
“Looks like we're bringing back 3 more to join ‘em.”
“Three?!” Joel yelled.
“Dependin' on what this boy confesses to, you may not find yourself inconvenienced for too long, Joel.” Flint put away his gun and handcuffed the gang leader and Joel. When he was finished, he looked at Dr. Daver, “I grazed his leg with a bullet, doc. Do you mind givin' him a quick check-up, so we can get back to the jailhouse?” Dr. Daver shrugged and got right to work. “I'm gonna get started bringing Joel back. I do need you to bring him back alive, Doctor, so don't go cuttin' off any of his limbs.”
Dr. Daver laughed, “A healthy boy like this?” He grabbed the man's face, “I wouldn't dream of marring this sweet face of his.”
Flint started walking Joel out of the cabin and back towards the horses. Joel was putting up a bit of a struggle. “Sheriff, why did you arrest me? I didn't do anything! They already admitted to committing the crime!”
“He confessed to committing a crime, Joel. Whether or not it's the same one I'm already investigatin' is somethin' we'll see when I finish interrogatin' him. Besides, you're not under arrest, you're bein' detained for questionin'.”
“They killed that girl, Sheriff! I saw them doin' it!”
“And I'll get your testimony at the jailhouse. If they're connected with my investigation, then that makes my job quick, and you can rest easy at the saloon tomorrow.”
Joel laughed nervously, “Wh-what'cha talkin' about, Sheriff?”
“Joel, it's just the two of us here.”
“Yeah, but that doctor could be—”
“Like all the locals, Dr. Daver is well-aware that the saloon turns into the world's most pathetic gamblin' house at night. Besides, we're far enough that he can't hear you.”
Joel let out a sigh of relief. “Can't wait to get back to it tonight. Who knows how much I lost last night from having to cancel?”
“Sounds like you'll have a lot to tell me at the jailhouse, then.”
“Sheriff, do we have to? I could just answer all your questions here and make my way back to the saloon.”
“Mags can handle the saloon by herself for a little longer. It's already noon, ain't it? ‘Sides, it's not like it's anything unusual for her.”
“I help my wife plenty during the day!”
“Sure, if by “help” you mean sleepin' the whole day.”
“Aw, c'mon Sheriff, you don't gotta say it like that.” The rest of the short walk back to the horses went by quickly and quietly. Flint put Joel on his horse and then walked them back to town. Flint arrived back at the jailhouse at the same time as the Deputy, who rode up with a confused look on his face.
“Sheriff, you found Joel!”
“I did.” Joel got off the horse and Flint took his horse's reins, “I'll stable the horses if you take Joel inside. We should also have some extra guests—courtesy of the good doctor.”
“Well, that man's good for some things, I'll tell you what.” Henry started pulling Joel into the jailhouse, “C'mon, now, let's get this over with.”
Flint just took the reins of the deputy's horse as well and led both animals back to their stable. Hopefully they would finally get some decent rest today, although Flint knew he would have to take Wind out again to go back up to the lumber mill. He put the horses in their stalls and gave Wind a solid pat on the neck. The horses whinnied loudly at him, and Flint looked around to see if anyone was watching. He didn't see anyone, so he walked over to his space and opened a small chest he kept on a table. The chest itself looked empty, but he knew better. He pulled out the false bottom, revealing some carrots he kept stashed away. Flint grabbed a couple of the carrots and put the false bottom back in, gifting both horses a small treat.
With the horses satisfied, Flint walked back to the jailhouse and went inside. Three confused drunk men sat together in one of the cells, all of them wondering how they got here. Joel sat at a table, watched closely by Henry. Flint took his seat across the table from Joel and crossed his arms. Joel Mondez was a small, balding man with thinning black hair and an even thinner mustache. Joel normally wore an ugly hat to hide his hair, but Flint hadn't seen it since they had found him. Flint noticed a small bruise on his cheek and that one of the sleeves on Joel's dirty white shirt was torn. Joel's looked annoyed, to say the least.
“Alright, Deputy. We don't want to inconvenience Mr. Mondez more than we already have. Get those cuffs off him.” The deputy shrugged and got the key for the cuffs from the Sheriff's desk, and then released Joel, who rubbed his wrists.
“I appreciate it, Sheriff.” Joel glared at Flint, who just had a small smirk on his face.
“Well, let's get down to it, so you can get on back to hustlin' people at the saloon. Joel, there was a murder in town.”
“Yeah, I know. I saw those guys do it.”
“Didya now? Well, why don't you tell me a little bit more about that?”
“It happened last night. I heard some commotion outside of the saloon as we were wrapping up for the night. Normally, it's just a couple of drunks settling the score, so I don't pay it too much mind. I've got a business to run, after all. But last night Marguerite came in and told me there were some men harassing one of the girls. I can't have that, so I grabbed my gun and went outside. I saw ‘em running off away from the saloon, so I chased ‘em down. They went out to the woods, to some clearing out there where they were holding her up. I was hiding behind a tree to get them, but they caught me and knocked me out before I could see them do it.”
“They killed her just out in the woods, did they?”
Joel nodded, “Just slit her throat and left her out there, I think.”
“You must've seen the girl, at least. What'd she look like?”
“I mean, she was average height. I don't think she was heavyset. Maybe brown hair? Or black? It was too dark to really tell.”
“You said your wife told you that it was one of the girls the men were harassin'. I'm assumin' that means it was one of your girls. Do y'know which one?”
Joel shook his head, “I didn't get a good look at her face, and I haven't been back to the saloon to see who's missing.”
“Alright. Have you ever seen this before?” Flint took out the knife and showed it to Joel, whose face lit up.
“That's it! That's the knife they used to kill her!”
“Really? And did they bring this knife with them?”
“Yeah, they had it when they killed her.”
Flint just nodded and put the knife away. “Do y'know why they holed up in that cabin we found you in?”
“Sheriff, you know nobody's used that cabin in years. It's one of my cabins I rent out to folks travelling through Sur Posta. The way I figure, they thought it'd be a good hiding spot in case they got caught by someone else.”
Flint just let out a terse hum. “Well, looks like I've got a second murder to investigate then.”
Joel's eyes opened wide, “A-a second murder?”
Flint nodded. “What do you know about the Allens, Joel?”
“The Allens? Who the hell are the Allens?”
“James and Violet Allen, of course.”
“James and Violet? I don't know any James or Violet.”
“You don't know nothin' about them?”
“Not a thing.”
Flint leaned forward on the table, “Don't you lie to me, Joel.”
“What do y'mean, Sheriff?”
“Violet Allen was one of the girls who worked for you.”
“I don't know all the girls that work for me, Sheriff.”
“From what I understand, there was some tension between the two of you. You didn't like the way she worked.” Flint's frosty glare bore into Joel, who knew he had been caught in a lie, “So, I'm going to ask politely one more time: What do you know about James and Violet Allen?”
“Fine. Violet was one of my girls. That girl frustrated me and Marguerite to no end. She had no respect for anyone. She'd shame anyone and everyone who came to gamble. I tried talking to her to get her to stop or at least tone it down, but she wouldn't listen. She'd just be cold to everyone who came in. The only way I saw to put out the fire in that girl was to kick her off the schedule for a few days. I hoped that would give her some time to realize how difficult she was being and get her to be more polite with the patrons.”
“And how did she take that?”
Joel shrugged, “I haven't seen her in days, Sheriff.”
Flint nodded, “What do you know about her brother?”
“James? I've never met the kid, but Marguerite tells me he's not that bright.”
“Do you know where they live?”
Joel was confused, “The hell do I look like, their father? I don't know where any of my girls live. Frankly, I don't care where they live.”
“See, the interestin' thing is that Violet Allen was murdered last night. Her body was found in her own home, and that just happened to be where this “Whiskey Gang” decided to hole up out of nowhere.” Flint folded his hands as he kept staring daggers at Joel, “That is one hell of a coincidence if you ask me.”
“You think I had something to do with Violet Allen's murder? Sheriff, I was being held hostage!”
“I know you were, Joel, but see, somethin's not addin' up. We already had a chat with Mags earlier today. She told us she didn't hear nothin' last night and slept like a baby. She woke up nice and refreshed and opened up the saloon early for once. Now, I won't say to know Mrs. Mondez all that well, but she never struck me as the kind to sleep well knowin' you'd run off earlier that night and didn't come back home.”
Joel winced. Flint had caught him again. He'd never been subject to the Sheriff's clever questioning before. Joel just needed to figure out how to outsmart him. “Y'know, Sheriff, I think I remembered that wrong. Marguerite had already gone up to bed for the night, but I hadn't started dealing cards yet. Another one of my girls, Ann, had come up to tell me about what was happening outside.”
“Does it take you long to get set up at night?”
“It depends. Some nights we've only got regulars who know the rules, so I can just get to dealing right away. Usually, we've got one or two new folks joining, so I've got to give them the rundown to keep me and them out of trouble.”
“Mags told me how y'all determine who will and won't be playing that night. How do y'all get new players in?”
“I've got a couple people in town who scout out new players. They've got a good eye for people who've got the itch and have a low enough moral character that they won't rat us out. They tell the new players what to order at the saloon, and then they get a cut of the winnings the next day. We've had a few close calls, but everyone sticks to the rules. ‘Course, if they'd broken the rules, I'm sure you'd know about it.”
“That is part of our arrangement.” Flint nodded, “And I will say you do a good job of keeping everyone in line.”
“Of course I do! You're looking at the next Mayor of Sur Posta right here!”
Flint rolled his eyes, “Somehow, I doubt you'll make it that far. One last question: Marguerite, is she a heavy sleeper?”
Joel laughed, “Not at all! Some nights I've been able to wake her up by breathing too loud! Honestly, some nights I wonder how she sleeps through everything that happens.”
Flint nodded, knowing he got exactly what he wanted. “Well, Deputy, I think we've gotten everything we need from Mr. Mondez for now. We can let him go back to the saloon, but before you go, Joel, I just want to warn you that I'm going to have more questions for you. So, don't you go run off chasing down other ne'er-do-wells causin' a ruckus, y'hear?”
“Of course, Sheriff. I'll stay put at the saloon.” Joel got up and walked out of the jailhouse. Henry took a seat where Joel was.
“Joel's still suspicious, ain't he?”
“Course he is. Not sure why he's so intent on lyin' to me, but he knows something else.”
“Do y'think he did it, Sheriff?”
Flint frowned, “Honestly, I can't tell right now. It's between him and Gregor for sure now.”
“What about the gang leader? Joel said they killed a girl.”
“He just happened to get injured when we were rescuing Joel. The good doctor is treating him for his injuries, but we're going to have a talk with him as well.”
“And you're positive the doctor didn't kill Violet?”
Flint threw his hands up, “Everybody keeps sayin' the doctor done did somethin', but in all my years in Sur Posta, I ain't never seen him do anything!” He put his hands down and shook his head, “Besides, I don't think the doctor would be so willing to help if he'd done this.”
The deputy shrugged, “If you say so, Sheriff. So, James isn't a suspect no more?”
Flint shook his head, “I got my answers out of the boy, finally. The good doctor helped him be honest, so I know we ain't lyin' to me. Gregor made him one generous offer to stay in Sur Posta, and he hadn't had the chance to tell Violet about it. Besides, after all they've been through, I don't think he'd just up and kill his sister.”
Henry leaned forward, “What all have they been through?”
“Not my story to tell, Deputy.” Flint started leaning back in his chair as one of the drunks started yelling from the cell.
“Hey, Sheriff!” He somehow managed to slur out, “How long do we gotta sit in here?”
“Well, that depends!” Flint yelled back, “If your boss admits y'all did somethin' real stupid, y'all are gonna be sittin' in there for a while. Then we have to figure out how to get y'all down to Denver.”
“Why're we goin' to Denver?”
“Well,” Flint adjusted his hat, “If Mr. Mondez's testimony is accurate, you boys done killed somebody. That bein' the case, we gotta get y'all down to a bigger courthouse to try your case.”
“We didn't kill nobody, Sheriff!” Another one of the men yelled, “Honest! We just took Mr. Joel and roughed him up a bit! But only ‘cause he asked!”
“Well, we'll see what your boss has to say before I decide what to do with y'all. At the very least, y'all're stayin' in there to sleep off the alcohol, so make yourselves comfy.” Frustrated grumbling came from the cell. Flint just paid it no mind as he looked at Henry, “Get our distinguished guests our finest refreshments, Deputy.”
The deputy was surprised, “R-really, Sheriff? I thought that stuff was meant for us.”
An incredulous stare slapped itself on Flint's face as he looked at Henry, “It is. Go get them water and some bread.”
“But you said—”
“I was bein' sarcastic, Deputy. Go and get them what they're supposed to have.” Flint rolled his eyes as the deputy ran out of the jailhouse. He put his hands behind his head as he kept leaning back in his chair. Flint covered his eyes with his hat and was about to fall asleep when he heard the jailhouse door being kicked open. He put his hat back on in time to see the drunk he had knocked out slide across the floor and Dr. Daver walking in carrying the “gang leader” over his shoulder. The doctor walked over and dropped the man on the table before wiping off his hands.
“Y'can't keep workin' me like this, Sheriff!” Dr. Daver rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “This ain't the kind of ride I'm fond of if you're gonna treat me like a workhorse.”
“Now why'd you have to go and throw him on the table? At least have the decency to put him in a chair!”
“You'll have to do that yourself, Sheriff. My bag is back at that damned cabin, so I need to run back and get it.” The doctor wiped off his coat. “Oh, before I forget, I found something that might be of interest to you.” He took a scrap of white cloth out of a pocket and handed it to Flint, “I found this stuck to one of the trees around the cabin while I was takin' care of the boys. It didn't look like it came from any of them, but I could be mistaken.” Flint couldn't really tell what the scrap was, but it looked like it had come from the handcuff of a white shirt.
He took the scrap from the doctor, “Much obliged.” He looked at both men the doctor had delivered. Flint noticed the drunk he had knocked out had a bandage around his head. “Are they gonna be alright?”
The doctor looked at the man on the ground, “Well, you knocked him out pretty good, but he should wake up soon. I'd throw him into one of them cells you've got so he can get his much-needed rest. As for him,” the doctor pointed at the man on the table, “When you're ready for him, just clap your hands real loud in his face. That'll give him a nice little shock.” He waved as he walked out of the jailhouse, “I'll be back shortly. Don't have too much fun.”