glass vibrating, humming. He looked down to see a smoking hole in his barn coat. It went in about six inches above his belt and exited in the back. His shirt was blackened on that side and the flesh underneath was blistered and sore, but the slug had passed by, missing cutting him in half by inches. If the other barrel had fired, it would have ripped right through him.
“I’m okay. Good thing he wasn’t firing shot, and I managed to block the right hammer, huh?”
“Luck still holding,” Mutt said. “You count on her being there too damn much.”
“Not my time yet,” Highfather said.
“Thanks, Jon,” Auggie said, eagerly pumping the sheriff’s hand while Highfather pulled up his collar and once again hid his neck. “The poor old fella is balled up something terrible, yes?”
Highfather winced, but tried to ignore the pain that was beginning to filter into his nerves from the powder burns on his flank. He shook Auggie’s hand and steadied himself on the counter.
“We’ll be pressing charges for the firearms discharge in the town limits and the assault, Auggie. Do you want to file any charges for the destruction of property?”
“I know I should, but Gert always says to turn the other cheek. So, no, I will not press the charges.”
“I’m sorry we had to bring Gertie up, Auggie. He was just so … well, I hope you understand it weren’t anything speaking to her character at all. I was just trying to spook him.”
“No, Jon, no. You are good man. Gert, she always like you.”
Mutt led Earl outside. The old man was still raving, but when he looked out onto the street amidst the whoops and cheers of the townsfolk he seemed to pause, as if he was seeing something, hearing something, fitting the pieces in his head.…
“Jon, you’ve got to stop them! Stop them, I tell you! They sing terrible songs, Jon, horrible songs! The worms! They’re coming, Jon. Worms, eating to the core of us. They eat life, they will eat up time and reason and then they will eat the light! They’ll eat the light, Jon! Please, Jon, you’ve got to stop them, stop me, stop him!”
Mutt pulled Earl aside, wrestled his arms behind him, again, and applied a pair of iron cuffs to his wrists.
Highfather placed a hand on Mutt’s shoulder. “This is the third person off the ridge to go bughouse crazy in the last few weeks.”
The Indian nodded as he struggled to keep Earl from twisting loose of his grasp. “You think someone is running bad hooch up there again?”
“Don’t know. Earl’s breath don’t smell like whiskey; neither does his clothes. I want you to head up there to the ridge tomorrow. See if anyone is brewing up anything they shouldn’t be.”
“Get right on it, boss,” Mutt said, then,“What about the kid?”
Highfather regarded Jim carefully, like he was weighing his soul. After a long pause he asked, “Jim, you looking for work?” He took the gun out of the boy’s hand.
“Yessir, and a place to stay.”
“All right, come on back to the jail with us and we’ll see what we can do about that.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said as he handed the sheriff his gun belt.
Highfather watched the boy leading his horse by his reins, back around the corner to the jail. Mutt and their mad prisoner walked beside them. The deputy paused to watch Maude Stapleton gather up her long hair and hide it under her bonnet. Their eyes met and held for too long to be healthy. Mutt finally nodded and tipped his hat. Maude hurried away with her daughter trailing behind her.
Highfather handled the crowds and the incessant demands for retelling of what happened inside the store with as few words and descriptions as possible. Several noted the bullet hole and whistled. He knew many of them were whispering again that Golgotha had a walking dead man for a sheriff, a lucky corpse, two steps and a handshake ahead of death. But he knew the truth behind all the myths and the tall tales.
He looked up to Argent
“I’m okay. Good thing he wasn’t firing shot, and I managed to block the right hammer, huh?”
“Luck still holding,” Mutt said. “You count on her being there too damn much.”
“Not my time yet,” Highfather said.
“Thanks, Jon,” Auggie said, eagerly pumping the sheriff’s hand while Highfather pulled up his collar and once again hid his neck. “The poor old fella is balled up something terrible, yes?”
Highfather winced, but tried to ignore the pain that was beginning to filter into his nerves from the powder burns on his flank. He shook Auggie’s hand and steadied himself on the counter.
“We’ll be pressing charges for the firearms discharge in the town limits and the assault, Auggie. Do you want to file any charges for the destruction of property?”
“I know I should, but Gert always says to turn the other cheek. So, no, I will not press the charges.”
“I’m sorry we had to bring Gertie up, Auggie. He was just so … well, I hope you understand it weren’t anything speaking to her character at all. I was just trying to spook him.”
“No, Jon, no. You are good man. Gert, she always like you.”
Mutt led Earl outside. The old man was still raving, but when he looked out onto the street amidst the whoops and cheers of the townsfolk he seemed to pause, as if he was seeing something, hearing something, fitting the pieces in his head.…
“Jon, you’ve got to stop them! Stop them, I tell you! They sing terrible songs, Jon, horrible songs! The worms! They’re coming, Jon. Worms, eating to the core of us. They eat life, they will eat up time and reason and then they will eat the light! They’ll eat the light, Jon! Please, Jon, you’ve got to stop them, stop me, stop him!”
Mutt pulled Earl aside, wrestled his arms behind him, again, and applied a pair of iron cuffs to his wrists.
Highfather placed a hand on Mutt’s shoulder. “This is the third person off the ridge to go bughouse crazy in the last few weeks.”
The Indian nodded as he struggled to keep Earl from twisting loose of his grasp. “You think someone is running bad hooch up there again?”
“Don’t know. Earl’s breath don’t smell like whiskey; neither does his clothes. I want you to head up there to the ridge tomorrow. See if anyone is brewing up anything they shouldn’t be.”
“Get right on it, boss,” Mutt said, then,“What about the kid?”
Highfather regarded Jim carefully, like he was weighing his soul. After a long pause he asked, “Jim, you looking for work?” He took the gun out of the boy’s hand.
“Yessir, and a place to stay.”
“All right, come on back to the jail with us and we’ll see what we can do about that.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said as he handed the sheriff his gun belt.
Highfather watched the boy leading his horse by his reins, back around the corner to the jail. Mutt and their mad prisoner walked beside them. The deputy paused to watch Maude Stapleton gather up her long hair and hide it under her bonnet. Their eyes met and held for too long to be healthy. Mutt finally nodded and tipped his hat. Maude hurried away with her daughter trailing behind her.
Highfather handled the crowds and the incessant demands for retelling of what happened inside the store with as few words and descriptions as possible. Several noted the bullet hole and whistled. He knew many of them were whispering again that Golgotha had a walking dead man for a sheriff, a lucky corpse, two steps and a handshake ahead of death. But he knew the truth behind all the myths and the tall tales.
He looked up to Argent
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