Flint groaned as he stood up, wiping the blood off his face. He looked at the carnage, counting the five bodies laying on the ground. He shook his head, thinking about how much of a pain in the ass it was going to be to clean this mess up. Normally the riffraff had the decency to operate outside of town, so he didn't have to think too hard about what to do with the bodies (although usually Flint had the respect to bury the dead at least). This time they came to him, and now he had to get the church involved. He sighed and started moving the bodies, looking through their pockets to see if they had anything of value to help cover the costs of their burials. Most of them only carried a few dollars on their persons, but they all had silver crosses and small bottles of holy water. One of them was even carrying a head of garlic. Flint found his torn-up shirt and wrapped everything he found in it.
“Didn't Gray bring six men with him?” The sheriff mused out loud, counting the bodies again.
“Oh, he did,” Flint heard the doctor's tired voice. He looked around but didn't see him.
“Where the hell are ya, doc?”
“Over here, in the alley.” Flint walked to a nearby alley. He saw the last Osiris operative lying dead on his side. Flint walked up to him and saw he had two bloody holes in his neck and his skin was pallid. Flint groaned, knowing his headache had just gotten worse.
“Oh, don't be like that, Sheriff.” Flint looked over at Dr. Daver, who was sitting on the ground with his chin covered with blood, “You know I'll clean up my own mess.”
“If it were closer to night, I'd be inclined to believe you.”
Dr. Daver dismissively waved his hand, “You underestimate me.” The doctor then tried his best to give the sheriff a sly grin as he appreciated the man's well-toned body.
Flint squat down next to the doctor, looking closer at his face. The Louisiana man's soft features were surprisingly unmarred after the attack. “Must be rough goin' at a man who knows how to fight a vampire.” Dr. Daver just rolled his vibrant purple eyes. Flint had known the doctor's secret for years. He had always had his suspicions about the man when he first met him, but it seemed the townspeople genuinely did not know. It made sense; the good doctor rarely left his home and most days when he had appointments, he always took the most expedient path in tending to his patients. Very rarely did Dr. C.A. Daver fraternize with the townspeople. At the very least, he was a competent doctor. “He got you good with that crucifix. I'm surprised it didn't leave a mark.”
“It would have if I didn't get to his lackey here when I did. Our new friend Gray Craven really should have killed me when he had a chance.”
“I'm sure he'll try harder when one of the townspeople pay him to. Can you stand?”
“Not well, but my strength should return to me soon.”
“Well, clean your face up. We've still gotta go and arrest Joel for murderin' Violet.”
“Are you sure it wasn't that Osiris gang?” Dr. Daver wiped his chin with the sleeve of his coat, doing a better job of smearing the blood than cleaning it off. Clint shook his head and helped the doctor stand, and then put his arm around him to help him walk about of the alley. Flint swore under his breath as he saw a crowd of people gathering around the bodies. The doctor told him to just lean him up against a building to go talk to them. He did so and started walking over. One of the townspeople saw him and the group swarmed around him instead, assaulting him with a barrage of questions.
“Now, look, I need y'all to stay calm and not get worked up. This ain't the start of no violence in the town or any sort of gang struggle.”
“But Sheriff, they sure do look like a gang.”
“I mean, they are, but they're not like the other ne'er-do-wells we normally see skulkin' ‘round these parts. They're not comin' to terrorize the town or demand anything from us.”
“Well, then why were they here?”
“Evidently, I've done such a good job cleanin' up crime and puffin' folks away that they were here to try and kill me.”
“Was it the doctor who sent them?”
“Dr. Daver is a Frenchman, not a monster. ‘Sides, they tried killin' him as much as they tried killin' me, so I don't think he's the one payin' ‘em.”
“What about the murder that happened this mornin'? What if they did that?”
“No, I don't think they're connected, but I am goin' to arrest the murderer. I was on my way to do that when I was unnecessarily delayed by our unwelcome guests.” Flint took a quick look at himself, “I suppose I'll be delayed a little longer.”
“What if the murderer gets away, Sheriff?”
“Don't you worry about that. Deputy Henry is keepin' an eye on our suspect and will keep ‘em from leavin' town if they try.” There were more than a few unsure murmurs in the crowd. “Don't y'all do that. The Deputy might not be the sharpest knife, but he's a good, honest, and trustworthy man. Ain't no reason to worry like that. Now look, I got this all under control. Y'all just go on back home, I'll get this taken care of.” The crowd slowly dispersed, with several of the women discreetly asking Flint if they could help him in any way. He politely declined their offers and reassured them he had everything under control. After a few minutes, it was just the sheriff, the doctor, and the pile of bodies. Flint walked out and grabbed Dr. Daver's hat off the ground and gave it to him. He also found his gun and holstered it. Flint handed the wrapped crucifixes and bottles to the doctor, asking if he could carry them in his bag. The doctor hesitantly accepted and put them in his bag but told Flint he would need to take them out later. The sheriff just shrugged and looked around for his horse.
Figuring Wind had run off in the commotion, he whistled for him. Hearing his master's call and knowing the danger had passed, Wind came trotting up to Flint and whinnied at him.
“They didn't kill us yet. Maybe they'll get lucky next time.” The two men mounted up on the horse once again.
“Alright, Sheriff, let's go arrest us one Joel Mondez.”
Flint shook his head, “That's gonna have to wait. I ain't ready to arrest anyone looking like this.”
He could feel the doctor's lips on his ear, “On the contrary, good Sheriff, you can handcuff me any time looking like this.”
A shiver went down Flint's spine, but he just ignored it like he ignored the doctor. He took the reins and took off, heading back towards the jailhouse. The two men rode on the outskirts of town, trying to avoid any further attention to themselves. It took longer than they would have liked, but the reprieve from fighting Osiris was much needed. When they got back to the jailhouse, Flint told the doctor to wait outside. Dr. Daver shrugged but was in no position to argue, and just reminded the sheriff to take his spoils from his bag. Flint retrieved his bundled-up shirt and took it up the stairs on the side of the building.
The stairs wrapped around to the back of the jailhouse, where the door to the Sheriff's lodgings could be found. He and Henry were supposed to share the space with one of them living above the jailhouse for a week at a time, but Flint actually decided to claim the apartment space for himself. Besides, it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go and Henry had a wife and kids to go home to. Henry tried putting up a fight, but Flint and the Missus were a terrible combination (including and especially when she was pregnant). Whenever he was frustrated with Henry, Flint often joked that he was going to fire him and deputize his wife instead. Henry very rarely found this joke funny.
Flint walked into the large, sparely decorated room. It covered the space of the front half of the first floor below. The walls were empty; Flint wasn't a hunter and didn't have any trophies to display. There was a large, neatly made bed in the front corner of the room with a heavy locked chest at the foot. In the opposite corner of the room was a small round table with two unused chairs. Near the table was a small iron stove. Flint walked over to the table, setting the shirt down and then checking the inside of the stove to see how much wood he had left. It was still half-full, but Flint knew he didn't have any extra to burn, so he'd need to get some from either Chris or Gregor soon. He closed the small stove door, then walked over to the chest. Flint opened it up, pulling out a freshly cleaned flannel from underneath a dingy grey uniform. He put it on and walked back to the table, unwrapping the bundle, and dropping the crucifixes and bottles onto the table.
He picked up one of the crucifixes and inspected it closely. Silver was never a problem for the doctor, so why did he have such a visceral reaction to these? Flint had seen several people shoving all sorts of religious trinkets into the doctor's face. At worst, they annoyed him, but he usually just laughed at their vain efforts to out him. Flint had never quite figured out what the doctor's weaknesses were. Dr. Daver was especially tight-lipped about the topic, and until today Flint assumed the doctor could only truly be harmed by direct sunlight. The Sheriff doubted he'd ever know, but now he had something to help defend against Dr. Daver if he ever actually became a threat to the town.
All the crucifixes and bottles were tucked into the chest, which was closed and locked again after he grabbed an extra pair of handcuffs and reloaded his gun. Flint walked out of the apartment and back down to his horse, who was unattended. He walked up to the horse and gave him a gentle pat on the neck, “Where'd that fool doctor run off to, boy?”
“Come now, Sheriff, there's no need to call me names.” Dr. Daver rode up on his own horse. “You were takin' your sweet time up there, so I was able to call my horse again.”
Flint just shook his head as he got back up on his horse, “Such a shame everything's over now; I know how much you love riding my ass.”
The doctor just gave Flint a lustful look, “I'll ride your ass anytime you want, Sheriff. All you have to do is ask.”
“Maybe later. Right now, we've got an arrest to make.” They started riding back into town once again. They had been distracted long enough, now it was time to get Joel to fess up to what he had done last night. Flint went through everything he knew about the murder.
Violet Allen had been murdered. She was living in Sur Posta with James Allen, her brother. They had run away from Virginia because she had murdered their father in the aftermath of the War. Violet was a good, god-fearing woman whose worst vice was that she had a taste for the finer things in life. She worked for Joel Mondez, the proprietor of the saloon, as one of his barmaids who helped serve customers in Joel's illicit, late night, gambling ring. There was some conflict between Joel and Violet because she treated the wealthier patrons far more favorably than any of the others. Because of this, Joel had kept Violet from working for the past few nights. Marguerite Mondez, Joel's wife, told Violet that she needed to talk to Joel about scheduling when she asked why she hadn't been put to work. Late last night, something happened in the saloon after last call but before the game started, making Joel leave the saloon. Violet was also seen at the saloon around the same time. Joel was then not seen until early this morning, when he convinced Samuel Settler and his idiot friends to become the Whiskey Gang and hold him hostage.
This, of course, did not connect Joel to the murder. Unless Violet was connected to the commotion that took Joel away from the saloon last night, then Joel's disappearance was much harder to explain. Of course, why would Joel need the Whiskey Gang to take him hostage? He could have just as easily gone back home after settling whatever commotion was going on in the saloon. Why did he feel the need to stage his own kidnapping? If Flint could figure that out, then he could put all the pieces together to solve the murder.
They arrived back in the town square to see the deputy standing between a shouting Chris and Joel. It was quite the spectacle. People weren't crowding around them, but they were watching the argument intently.
“It's your fault she's dead, you selfish bastard!” Chris yelled, pointing at Joel. “So, what if she didn't like the poor suckers who always come to your piece of shit little casino? It's just as easy for you to cheat and rip them off regardless of what she did, ain't it?”
“If anyone's a cheat and a rip off, it's you! Everybody look at Christopher Ett, the big, big man who couldn't make it in New York City, so he ran away and came out here where he could hawk off third-rate goods at premium prices!”
“Don't pretend like you're better than me! At least I didn't completely wipe out my entire family's wealth by hitching my horse to the stupid ass Confederacy in the last few months of the war! How was it, having to leave home because your ass was so deep in debt? Not only that, but you had to ditch your family's name because if anyone knew who you were, you'd be chased back to the shithole you slithered out of! I might not have been able to make it in New York, but at least I had the money to afford the general store!”
“Gentlemen, that is ENOUGH!” Flint yelled, getting their attention before things escalated further. “Deputy, what the hell is going on here?”
Henry opened his mouth to explain, but Chris started talking first, “He fucking did it, Sheriff! He killed Violet Allen, and he won't admit to the crime!”
“You shut your goddamn mouth!” Joel yelled back. “Why don't you mind your own shitty little business?”
“I SAID ENOUGH!” Flint got off his horse and walked over to the two men. “When I want you two to talk, I will ask you to talk. Until then, both of you be quiet!” The two men just glared at one another. Flint took a deep breath and then looked at Deputy Henry again, “Deputy, what is happening here?”
“Well, Sheriff, I was watching the town square, like you asked, when Chris came out to ask how things were goin'. I didn't say nothin' about the investigation, Sheriff, but I did tell him that I'm feelin' tired from all the investigations today. Anyway, we were just standing here and havin' a talk when Joel came out and started yellin' at Chris to get away and mind his own business. That's about the time when you came around, Sheriff.”
“Why is the Deputy even out here in the town square?” Joel asked, “Shouldn't he have been with you finding out who killed Violet?”
“I needed someone to keep the peace in town. Word that a murderer's on the loose ain't gonna help keep the town quiet and peaceful if people don't see the law keepin' an eye out.”
“But Sheriff, I thought you wanted—”
“I wanted you to keep an eye on the town square, which you did. Chris, we're still lookin' for who murdered Violet. We have our leads, but nothing solid yet. Go back into the store ‘fore you say or do somethin' you regret.”
Chris grumbled and glared at Joel, “Fine, Sheriff, but I'm tellin' ya, he did it. I know he did.” He slowly walked back to the general store, shooting one last dirty look at Joel before going inside.
“And Joel, I've got some more questions for you. You got a room in the saloon where we can talk privately?”
“Of course, I do, Sheriff. Follow me.” Joel started leading the way back into the saloon.
Flint looked at the deputy, “Stay out here. Keep the peace, but things might get messy in there. Doc, you're with me.” He started following Joel.
“Haven't we had enough adventure for today, Sheriff?” The doctor got off his horse and handed the reins to the deputy before following behind Flint and Joel.
As they walked in the saloon, everything fell silent. There was a sudden tension in the air. The footsteps of the three men walking through the saloon were the loudest things in the room. Marguerite once again walked out confused from the back.
“Sheriff, you've gotta stop walkin' in here unannounced,” her boisterous voice caught his attention, “You keep this up, ain't nobody gonna come around here anymore.”
“Please, the town lowlifes have to come somewhere to wet their whistles.” Dr. Daver replied flippantly, shaking his head. “Actually, speaking of lowlifes, one Gregor Hess thinks he left a pair of gloves here about a week ago. Said the fingertips were steel. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Confusion replaced annoyance. Marguerite looked at Joel, “I thought you told me those gloves were yours? I knew they looked too big for your hands.”
“They're mine now,” Joel's reply was terse, “Gregor can afford another pair of gloves.”
Flint also shot a confused glance at Joel, but he kept following Joel as they walked upstairs. Joel unlocked a door, and then invited the sheriff and doctor in. “My apologies for the state of the room. I suppose the boys weren't too thrilled about me having to cancel for the night and made a mess of everything.”
Flint had never been in the saloon's gambling room before, but it was a mess. There was a long oblong table in the middle of the room that was covered in glass and wood pieces. Chairs laid broken on the floor. There were four shelving units on the back wall, but two had been tipped over. All the shelves had been broken on a third, but the fourth appeared to be fine. The floor felt sticky and wet. They looked at the chairs and found three that hadn't been totally ruined yet and sat down around the table.
“So, what else did you want to ask me, Sheriff?” Joel asked, wiping some of the mess off the table.
“Well, Joel, there's some things you told me that just don't quite add up.”
“Like what, Sheriff?”
“Well, for starters, let's talk about this “Whiskey Gang” that took you hostage. I had a nice chat with Samuel Settler, the leader of the so-called Gang.” Flint leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Now, Sammy's a lot of things. Stupid comes to mind real easy, and it describes him very well, but he's not about to get himself into trouble daddy can't save him from.” He saw Joel's face twisting into a grimace. “He told me that you told his posse to take you hostage. Is that true?”
Joel chuckled nervously, “Th-the boy's an idiot, Sheriff. You know that.”
“Everybody knows that. He's also not always honest, but he's not stupid enough to come up with a lie like that.” Flint started stroking his chin, “Now, let's assume he's correct. You, Joel Mondez, went out and found Sam Settler's gang of misfits and told them to take you hostage. Obviously, they said yes, which brings up the next question: Why? Sure, they're not afraid to get into trouble, but this is kidnappin'. They're more of a stupid prank and petty theft outfit. So, why would they agree to take you hostage?
“Well, then you tell them they can make money from it. You offer them a $250 bribe to take you hostage. Most of them are good with that, except for the one that matters: Sam Settler. His daddy's got more money than that family knows what to do with. So, you sweeten the pot: Have them “demand” a bottle of whiskey too. The boys get some money, Sammy gets a bottle, you get taken “hostage.” Everybody gets what they want.”
“That's an absurd story you've come up with Sheriff. Why would I want them to take me hostage?”
“See, that's what I'm tryin' to figure out. You're not a stupid man, certainly much smarter than Samuel. So, you wouldn't just ask them to take you hostage, not without a reason. So that's why I needed to come back and ask you some more questions.” Flint leaned forward on the table and folded his hands. “I can expect you to be honest with me, can't I?”
“Of-of course, Sheriff.” Joel stammered. Flint could see the man trying to figure out a way out of this. Flint just needed to stay two steps ahead of Joel to catch him.
“Alright. Well, you're lookin' a little nervous, so why don't we change the conversation a bit? You ever hear of this group called the ‘Osiris Collective'?”
The most genuine look of confusion spread across Joel's face. “Is that a cult of some kind?”
“No, no,” Flint shook his head, “Just something I heard about. Rumors spreading in the town, that's all.”
“Well, if I hear anything I'll let you know, Sheriff.”
“Much obliged,” Flint tipped his hat. He didn't expect Joel to know anything about Osiris, but it was a good start to get him to lower his defenses. “So, did you learn which of your girls is missing?”
“It's Violet. She's the one that got murdered.”
“My condolences. It's a terrible situation, but I will admit that I'm glad there's only one murder to investigate.”
“Well, she said she and her brother were leaving soon anyway, so I guess I don't lose much either. Besides, she was too much to deal with.”
“You may not have been her best friend, but that's no reason to speak ill of the dead, Joel.” Flint gave him a dark look, “They've got a way of comin' back to haunt ya.” He saw Joel's eyes go wide with fear. “Ain't that right, Doc?”
“Oh, Sheriff, if the dead truly could rise again, we'd never see the end of any wars.” Dr. Daver chuckled. He then looked wistfully in the air, “It's the spirits of the dead you have to watch out for. They'll haunt you to your grave, and they'll keep haunting your family even after you're gone. Why, sometimes I'll look out a window at night and see the ghost of a patient I failed to save.”
Joel's face was getting pale, “Tha-that's nonsense. I don't believe in any of that.”
“There are plenty of inexplicable things in this world, Mr. Mondez.” Dr. Daver gave Joel a cold smile, “It's the ghosts of children that stick with you the most.”
“Don't go scarin' the poor man like that!” Flint said loudly, playfully shoving the doctor, “Look at ‘im! He's turnin' whiter than your ghosts!” He folded his hands again and learned on the table, “Don't pay him no mind. He gets like this sometimes. Now, I do wanna ask, does Gregor Hess ever come ‘round here and patronize your establishment?”
Some of the color returned to Joel's face as he rolled his eyes, “Don't get me started on Mr. Holier-than-Thou Gregor Hess. He belittles me for doing what I do, and the one night he comes here, he wastes the finest whiskey I've ever seen and plays like shit. Worst of all, Violet had him wrapped around her finger all night. Once again, she only paid attention to the wealthiest man at the table too. Let me tell you, that's a match made in Heaven right there. And then he has the gall to back out of the game early in the night and take Violet with him? I told Marguerite that if he wants to do shit like that, he can pay extra like everyone else.” Joel spit on the ground, “Hell, I'd've charged him more than extra for her.”
“So, Gregor was fond of her, then?”
“God, yes.” Joel faked a gag, “It was disgusting to watch. I mean, watching Violet fawn over other rich men was always annoying, but something about those two really got under my skin.”
“And was this before the incident with the banker, right?”
“I don't think I could have handled it after the banker. Besides, she didn't work since then, remember?”
“Right, right. Apologies, I'm just tryin' to keep the story straight.” Flint adjusted his hat, “I'd like to ask you again about the murder. You said it was out in the woods where they killed her, right? Which way out of town do you reckon that was?”
“I'd probably say it's out to the west of the town square, headin' up towards the mayor's estate.”
“Headin' out towards the mayor's estate, huh? And how'd you say they killed her?”
“Well, I didn't see exactly, Sheriff, but I think they slit her throat.”
Flint nodded his head, “That's a messy way to go. Just one question: Why would they take her back to her house?”
“What do you mean, Sheriff?”
“Well, the body was found this morning in her own home. Her brother was the first one to find her body. After that, the Deputy, the Doctor, and I all saw her in her home. So, if they killed her out in the woods, why would they bother to bring her body back there?”
“W-well, maybe,” Joel let out an exasperated gasp, trying desperately to find an answer, “Maybe they just needed a place to hide the body, and they just went to the closest cabin?”
“That'd be believable, except the Allens' cabin is all the way to the south of town, past the inn. If they killed her headin' up towards the Mayor's Estate, then why would they go south to leave her body at her cabin?” Joel fidgeted trying to find an answer. Flint shrugged, “This is all a moot point, anyway. There's no evidence the body was moved after she was murdered.”
Joel was stunned, “No evid—why didn't you say anything sooner, Sheriff?”
“You said you were gonna be honest with me, Joel.” Flint crossed his arms. “So, are you gonna tell me what actually happened?”
“I—I know what I saw, Sheriff.”
“I know you saw something, but it's definitely not what you told me. I'm gonna ask you one more time: Are you gonna be honest with me?”
“I-I am bein' honest with you.”
“I think tensions are getting' a little high in here.” Dr. Daver spoke up, “Joel, perhaps you could go retrieve a refreshing beverage for our good Sheriff here to help calm his nerves.”
“Y-Yes, of course.” Joel got up and walked out of the room, leaving Flint and Dr. Daver alone.
“Alright, look,” the doctor turned to the sheriff, “He's not going to volunteer anything. You've caught him in a lie, but he's just going to double-down on it.”
“I can see that. Even if I distract him, he's just going to get quiet when I come back to the murder. Can't you use your tricks to get him to tell us the truth?”
“It depends. I've actually fed for the first time in a long time, so I have more strength than I usually do. He knows we're onto him, so he's probably got a greater mental fortitude than he normally would. I can hypnotize him like I did with James, but I doubt you can just outright ask him if he committed the murder.” The doctor sat back and crossed his arms, “You can't get too complicated with the questions either. Asking for too many details will break the charm.”
“But he won't be able to lie, right?”
“He will be compelled to be honest.”
“How many questions will I get?”
“We'll play it safe and say three. I don't want to push my luck, even with full strength.”
“And after that you'll have to leave?”
The doctor nodded, “It's a simple exchange. I find most people detest my presence, and it's something of value I can easily give them.”
So, I've just got three questions that Joel can't dance around, huh? Flint stroked his chin contemplatively. As he thought what to ask, Joel came back into the room with three highball glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He set a glass down in front of the sheriff and filled it.
He then set a glass in front of the doctor, but before he could pour anything into it, the doctor held up a hand. “No, no, don't trouble yourself with me. I don't drink.” Joel looked Dr. Daver in the eye, seeing some kind of glint in it, “But I must be on my way. We have three more questions for you. Answer them truthfully, and I will take my leave.” The life in Joel's eyes faded as they glazed over and became unfocused. “Go ahead and take your seat.” Joel slowly walked around the table to get back to his chair. The doctor looked at the sheriff as the man took his seat, “He's all yours.”
“Alright, Joel, who caused all the mess in here?”
Joel's voice was monotone, “Violet Allen did.”
The sheriff and doctor shot each other surprised looks. Violet caused all this mess? She didn't look like she had the strength to do all this.
“Where was the last place you saw Violet?”
“In her cabin.”
“Was she alive when you got there?”
“Yes.”
The doctor grabbed the glass in front of him as the light returned to Joel's eyes. “That's it for me. You've got him right where you need him, Sheriff.” Dr. Daver gave Flint a solid pat on the shoulder as he stood up, and then looked at Joel, “I'm going to go return this to your wife downstairs. Good luck, to the both of you.” Dr. Daver left the room, and as the door closed behind him, fear took a tight grip on Joel's face.
“I-I—”
“So, Violet Allen caused all this mess, did she?”
Joel grit his teeth and looked away, “She did. I can't do anything with all this mess. I'm gonna have to get all new chairs made, all my shelves fixed, and all those bottles replaced. I can't believe she did this.”
“So, why do you think she did it?”
“I don't ‘think' I know why she did it. It was to get back at me for keepin' her off the schedules.”
“This seems like a bit of an overreaction though, don't it? All this mess for a few days of not workin'? What did you do to her to make her want to get you back like this?”
“I didn't—” Joel sighed, knowing there was no use in lying to the sheriff now, “She came to me a couple of days ago to ask about working. I told her exactly why I kept her off the schedule, and she told me she couldn't believe it. Well, then she asked why it was such a big deal if that banker man spent so much money anyway, but it wasn't about her pampering the rich. It's about her being nice to only them.” He rubbed his eyes, “Then she threatened to quit and leave. She told me it didn't matter what I thought about her, because she could just leave when she wanted. Her and her brother were going to leave anyway, she said. So, I told that as long as she was living in my cabin, she wasn't going to leave Sur Posta any time soon. If she tried leaving, I was gonna send someone to hunt her down and drag her back here. As long as she was in Sur Posta, her life was as good as mine.”
“I'll bet she didn't take too kindly to that.”
“She did not. So, yesterday she came up here while the saloon was still open, just before last call, and trashed the entire room. I came in and saw her in here and we started having an argument. She stormed out and I followed her because I couldn't believe what she had done. We argued loudly all the way back to the cabin. I'm surprised we didn't wake anybody in town up.”
“So, you went back to the cabin. Then what?”
“That's when it happened. We started fighting. I snapped and choked her, but then she kicked me and tried to get me with that knife you showed me earlier today. I managed to take the blade from her, and I-I stabbed her.” Joel put his head in his hands, “I killed her and watched her die, Sheriff.”
“What'd you do after that?”
Joel put his hands down, looking defeated, “I ran. I had to figure out what to do. I had just killed someone, Sheriff! I couldn't leave town! I own the saloon for God's sake! So, I just ran off farther into the woods to think about what I'd done and what I could do. I tried going back to get rid of the body, but you and that damn doctor were already there. My crime was found out, so I had to find a way to get out of this mess. I ran into one of Sam's boys who lives in another cabin out in those woods.”
“And that's when you told them to take you hostage.”
“Yeah. I told Sam that I needed a favor from him, and that I'd pay him back nicely. I said I'd done something bad, and I needed him to take the fall for it. He'd be $250 richer for just sitting in a jail cell for a few hours. It wasn't anything he hadn't done before. It was flawless, I thought. Marguerite would give him the money, he'd sit in jail for a while, and then his father would just make you let him go. The mayor, he'd probably bribe you to keep your mouth shut about the whole thing to keep his spotless image. But I was gonna tell Marie what Sam had done and let the rumor mill do what it does best. The mayor would be ruined, and I'd get to step in and take his place.”
Flint stared blankly at Joel and blinked a few times in disbelief. “You—you expected that harebrained scheme to work?”
“Sheriff, Mayor Settler would never let his son go to prison for murder. That wouldn't help him any come election time.”
“And why do you think I'd believe Sam Settler when he said he killed somebody?”
“Mostly because I told him to admit to the crime. Make your job nice and easy.”
“Oh, he tried. He gave me a deposition that didn't match the facts of the case. He also immediately broke as soon as I told him he'd be tried in Denver for the murder.” Flint shook his head, “You really should have tried harder to cover your ass.” He stood up, “Well, Joel Mondez, you are under arrest for the murder of Violet Allen and the obstruction of justice. I expect you understand your rights?”
“I do, Sheriff.” Joel looked down dejectedly. The game was lost. There was nowhere else to run. Flint knew these were the thoughts going through Joel's head right now. But Flint had been here before; he knew that Joel was not the kind to give up so easily. He could see Joel's arm moving ever so slightly, reaching for something under the table. Flint started reaching for his own gun. As Flint came around the table, Joel pulled a gun out. If he meant to surprise Flint, he failed, as the sheriff quickly pulled out his gun and fired from the hip, hitting Joel in the shoulder. Joel stumbled back into his chair, almost falling out of it, as the door to the room opened and Marguerite and Dr. Daver barged in. Joel's gun clattered to the ground. Joel sat in his chair, gripping his shoulder tightly and glaring at the sheriff. Flint just returned Joel's fury with cold disappointment. They could hear Marguerite shouting, but neither one was paying attention to what she was saying. Flint holstered his gun as he kept approaching Joel.
“Mr. Mondez,” his voice was as cold as his stare, “I'm disappointed. Did you really think you could get away with this?” Joel just grit his teeth. “You were messy, Mondez, and you're going to face justice for your crimes.”
“Then administer your justice, Sheriff,” Joel hissed.
“That's not my job.” Flint looked over to Dr. Daver, “Doc, can you patch him up? We've got to get him ready for his trial.” The doctor nodded and approached Joel, shaking his head and saying something about how foolish he was to think he could outgun Sheriff Flint Waters. Flint just ignored him and started walking over to Marguerite.
“Mags, I'm so sorry—” She pushed past him and stormed up to Joel, slapping him hard.
“You stupid, selfish man! You just can't help yourself, can you?”
“Marguerite, I—”
“Don't give me any of your damned excuses! I've had enough of this! It's already bad enough that your idiocy got us kicked out of our own home once, but this? This is unforgivable.” She took off her wedding ring and slammed it on the table. “I hope they forget how to tie a noose when they hang you.” She left the room, swearing under her breath with tears in her eyes.
The tiny town of Sur Posta was rocked by the news. Joel was arrested without further incident. Sur Posta didn't have a courthouse or a judge, so Flint was responsible for transporting Joel to a larger town to be tried properly. The sheriff sent a letter to notify the court, and Joel was incarcerated. When it came to all his property and possessions, Joel was considered a dead man, and everything passed to Marguerite. She sold everything she could, mostly to Mayor Settler, before commissioning a carriage to take her back home. Flint was one of the few people to see her off as she was leaving and was the last one there to say good-bye.
“I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised; we were never the popular couple in town.” Marguerite said, looking wistfully back at the town.
“Ain't no reason to leave, Mags,” Flint said with a sad smile, “Plenty of single men in this town would love to take care of you.”
“Oh, Sheriff, it's hard enough staying in this town when you aren't the murderer's wife. Even if I took the money and became somebody's housewife, I'd never be able to show my face in town again.”
“Well, we'll miss ya, Mags. You sure you got everything you need for the trip?”
“Well, if you're offering, I could use a kiss for the road.” She leaned in, but Flint politely pushed her back.
“Sorry, Mags, I've told ya many a time that you're just not my type.”
Now she gave him a sad smile, “I suppose I'll never know what your type is.” She looked past Flint and saw Dr. Daver riding up on his horse.
“Oh good, you're still here. I was afraid I was too late.” He got off his horse and handed a small cannister to Marguerite. “Here, mix a spoonful of this into water before you go to bed. It should help with you stay asleep.” He also gave her a piece of paper, “If it works, you can give this to a pharmacist or apothecary, and they'll be able to make you more.”
She took the cannister and the paper, then opened up her handbag, “How much do I owe you, doctor?"
"Mrs. Mondez, you've been through enough. Think of this as a parting gift.” He extended a hand for a handshake, “I hope you find peace wherever you go.”
She took his hand, “Such a kindness I do not deserve.” The carriage driver told her it was time to go, and she curtseyed. “Well, gentlemen, I believe our time together has come to an end. Thank you both for everything.” Before she got into the carriage, she turned back to them, “May this ending bring us all a new beginning.”