revenge for his humiliation at Washburn’s hand, but I had to let him come to his own conclusion.
A long moment passed before Bolton simply said, “All right, I’ll run.”
After I got the answer I wanted, I ran over to Richard’s print shop to find him setting type. “I have a new lead story for you.”
“Already got it. It wasn’t easy making you look like a banker. People trust their money to solid citizens, not gunfighters.”
“Not that story. Bolton has formally announced his candidacy for governor.”
Chapter 13
“We need to talk.” The burly man took the seat across from me at Mary’s.
“Good morning, Sheriff.”
I had been reading Richard’s stories about my ascendancy as the resident banker and Bolton’s aspiration for the governorship. It occurred to me again that I needed to find another place for breakfast. Of course, there was no other place in Pickhandle Gulch, and I was not ready to leave this dismal town.
I had encountered the sheriff many times, but our contacts had been limited to a tip of the hat. Odd, given that I had killed two men in his town. That messy incident probably would not be the subject of this encounter either. The sheriff was a big man, with a belly that rolled out over his gun belt. He had the swarthy look of a bully who demanded petty toadying from anyone he deemed beneath him, which probably included everyone not on the Washburn payroll. Despite my dispatch of the Cutlers, I assumed he saw me as a lower order of animal. I made a show of folding the newspaper and setting it aside to signal that he had my full attention.
The sheriff scooted his chair so close to the table that the edge gouged into his protruding stomach. “I don’t like being in business with you, and our silent partner will be furious.”
“What silent partner?”
“Sean Washburn.”
“I’ve read the Grand Hotel contract, and I didn’t see his name.” Acquiring the bank gave me a fifty percent interest in the Grand Hotel. The sheriff owned the other fifty percent, and I wasn’t surprised that he objected to sharing ownership with me.
“That’s what silent means.”
I leaned back. “What’s his interest, Clyde?”
“You call me sheriff, shithead,” he said menacingly. “And he gets ten percent—off the top.”
I shook my head. “No wonder that hotel’s so threadbare. Well, I’ll not pay another dime until he shows me a contract with his name on it.”
“There ain’t no contract, shopkeeper. It’s a gentlemen’s agreement.”
“I see no gentlemen.”
“Go to hell!” The sheriff pushed back his chair and stared at me. After a while he said, “I never should have sat down with you. You’re a dead man.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“No. I’m the law.” He put on a bullying smirk. “But you’ll be dead soon, just the same.”
“Well … I’m sure you’ll do everything in your power to protect me.”
“I won’t do shit.”
Perhaps the sheriff was more honest than I had supposed. One thing I had learned from this conversation was that he had not yet talked to Washburn or one of his surrogates. I had informed the hotel manager this morning that by acquiring the bank, I was now half-owner of his establishment. When I had asked to see the books, he had gotten nervous and asked for a day or two to get them updated. I let it pass. I didn’t really care about the hotel except for its irritation value. It had already irritated the sheriff and, as he said, it would infuriate Washburn.
I kept silent, so the sheriff added, “And don’t think you’re now the mayor because you bought that damned bank.”
“I only bought Crown’s commercial interests. The citizenry must elect a new mayor.” I smiled. “But it’s an interesting thought. It might be fun to be your boss.”
“Don’t be stupid. Crown was never my boss.”
“Was Crown stupid?”
“He wasn’t smart to sell out to you. Now he better run fast and
A long moment passed before Bolton simply said, “All right, I’ll run.”
After I got the answer I wanted, I ran over to Richard’s print shop to find him setting type. “I have a new lead story for you.”
“Already got it. It wasn’t easy making you look like a banker. People trust their money to solid citizens, not gunfighters.”
“Not that story. Bolton has formally announced his candidacy for governor.”
Chapter 13
“We need to talk.” The burly man took the seat across from me at Mary’s.
“Good morning, Sheriff.”
I had been reading Richard’s stories about my ascendancy as the resident banker and Bolton’s aspiration for the governorship. It occurred to me again that I needed to find another place for breakfast. Of course, there was no other place in Pickhandle Gulch, and I was not ready to leave this dismal town.
I had encountered the sheriff many times, but our contacts had been limited to a tip of the hat. Odd, given that I had killed two men in his town. That messy incident probably would not be the subject of this encounter either. The sheriff was a big man, with a belly that rolled out over his gun belt. He had the swarthy look of a bully who demanded petty toadying from anyone he deemed beneath him, which probably included everyone not on the Washburn payroll. Despite my dispatch of the Cutlers, I assumed he saw me as a lower order of animal. I made a show of folding the newspaper and setting it aside to signal that he had my full attention.
The sheriff scooted his chair so close to the table that the edge gouged into his protruding stomach. “I don’t like being in business with you, and our silent partner will be furious.”
“What silent partner?”
“Sean Washburn.”
“I’ve read the Grand Hotel contract, and I didn’t see his name.” Acquiring the bank gave me a fifty percent interest in the Grand Hotel. The sheriff owned the other fifty percent, and I wasn’t surprised that he objected to sharing ownership with me.
“That’s what silent means.”
I leaned back. “What’s his interest, Clyde?”
“You call me sheriff, shithead,” he said menacingly. “And he gets ten percent—off the top.”
I shook my head. “No wonder that hotel’s so threadbare. Well, I’ll not pay another dime until he shows me a contract with his name on it.”
“There ain’t no contract, shopkeeper. It’s a gentlemen’s agreement.”
“I see no gentlemen.”
“Go to hell!” The sheriff pushed back his chair and stared at me. After a while he said, “I never should have sat down with you. You’re a dead man.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“No. I’m the law.” He put on a bullying smirk. “But you’ll be dead soon, just the same.”
“Well … I’m sure you’ll do everything in your power to protect me.”
“I won’t do shit.”
Perhaps the sheriff was more honest than I had supposed. One thing I had learned from this conversation was that he had not yet talked to Washburn or one of his surrogates. I had informed the hotel manager this morning that by acquiring the bank, I was now half-owner of his establishment. When I had asked to see the books, he had gotten nervous and asked for a day or two to get them updated. I let it pass. I didn’t really care about the hotel except for its irritation value. It had already irritated the sheriff and, as he said, it would infuriate Washburn.
I kept silent, so the sheriff added, “And don’t think you’re now the mayor because you bought that damned bank.”
“I only bought Crown’s commercial interests. The citizenry must elect a new mayor.” I smiled. “But it’s an interesting thought. It might be fun to be your boss.”
“Don’t be stupid. Crown was never my boss.”
“Was Crown stupid?”
“He wasn’t smart to sell out to you. Now he better run fast and
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