law and order in Bitter Springs. Given what I have observed of your tenacity, it is astonishing that you haven’t already sworn in a new marshal. All by yourself.”
“I have heard it said that sarcasm is the language of the devil.”
“Then you know who you’re dealing with.”
The line of Tru’s full lips thinned as she suppressed another smile. His sardonic wit brought Charlotte Mackey to mind, although Mrs. Mackey’s pronouncements veered toward acerbic, while Cobb Bridger’s remarks were wry and dry.
“In spite of what you think, Mr. Bridger, the idea that you might make a reasonably competent marshal only occurred to me when you mentioned your experience. There have been discussions at public council meetings so it is not as if I am the only one who has been entertaining the notion. Not of you specifically, I mean. How could any of us have anticipated that someone with your experience would arrive in Bitter Springs? I’m talking about the
idea
that the town could benefit from a man like you. Since no one’s come forward to apply for the position, there’s been a proposal that the town should make the vacancy public.”
“Like they did with you.”
“As a matter of fact, yes. But how did you know?” She shook her head, blowing out an audible breath. “Finn.”
“And his grandmother. And Walt. Miss Ross said something about it as well. Or it could have been Miss Harrison. People seem to be delighted that the new teacher hails from Chicago and has an education to match her position. It’s a point of pride and the reason they talk about it so easily. Even Finn has come around, but then you know that.”
“It’s disquieting what a complete stranger can learn in a matter of days.”
“Most of it in the matter of a single day. Although it seems when the town agrees that some things are better not shared with strangers, like the absence of a marshal, for instance, there is almost universal silence.”
Tru flushed at what she felt was a rebuke. The fact that it was delivered by a virtual stranger made it all the more galling.
“When there is no such restriction,” he said, “I’ve learned that people in Bitter Springs have more to say than the
New York World
.”
“There is a lot of talk here,” she said. “And no town newspaper.”
“You don’t need one. Just like you probably don’t need a marshal.”
“I beg to differ on both counts.”
“Yet you did not ask me to be a publisher.”
“Do you have experience operating a newspaper?”
“No.”
“Experience is the salient point here. You carry a gun, don’t you?”
“Not to dinner.”
“But you know how to use one.”
“Yes. And so do the men robbing banks, stealing cattle, and challenging card cheats. One of the reasons people aren’t clamoring to be marshal is because it’s dangerous. Mrs. Sterling knows that all too well.”
Tru fell silent. Cecilia appeared again, this time to take their plates away and replace them with warm slices of apple pie. Tru thanked her and hoped she would recognize it for the dismissal it was. Cecilia lingered long enough to watch Cobb savor his first bite and agree to carry his compliments back to the cook.
“Mrs. Sterling doesn’t make the pies,” Tru said.
“I know. Mrs. Phillips does. But Mrs. Sterling deserves praise for purchasing them from someone so profoundly competent.”
“I will tell Jenny. She is a friend.”
“Then you should definitely tell her.”
“She thinks we need a marshal.”
He shrugged and took another bite of pie.
“The time to look for a marshal is when we don’t need one. If we are faced with the decision at the point of some calamity, it will be more difficult to be thoughtful.”
“Miss Morrow, there is more to being marshal than knowing how to shoot, although as a predictor of success in the job, it’s a reasonably good beginning.” He relished his last bite of pie but declined Tru’s serving when she pushed it toward him.
“What other
“I have heard it said that sarcasm is the language of the devil.”
“Then you know who you’re dealing with.”
The line of Tru’s full lips thinned as she suppressed another smile. His sardonic wit brought Charlotte Mackey to mind, although Mrs. Mackey’s pronouncements veered toward acerbic, while Cobb Bridger’s remarks were wry and dry.
“In spite of what you think, Mr. Bridger, the idea that you might make a reasonably competent marshal only occurred to me when you mentioned your experience. There have been discussions at public council meetings so it is not as if I am the only one who has been entertaining the notion. Not of you specifically, I mean. How could any of us have anticipated that someone with your experience would arrive in Bitter Springs? I’m talking about the
idea
that the town could benefit from a man like you. Since no one’s come forward to apply for the position, there’s been a proposal that the town should make the vacancy public.”
“Like they did with you.”
“As a matter of fact, yes. But how did you know?” She shook her head, blowing out an audible breath. “Finn.”
“And his grandmother. And Walt. Miss Ross said something about it as well. Or it could have been Miss Harrison. People seem to be delighted that the new teacher hails from Chicago and has an education to match her position. It’s a point of pride and the reason they talk about it so easily. Even Finn has come around, but then you know that.”
“It’s disquieting what a complete stranger can learn in a matter of days.”
“Most of it in the matter of a single day. Although it seems when the town agrees that some things are better not shared with strangers, like the absence of a marshal, for instance, there is almost universal silence.”
Tru flushed at what she felt was a rebuke. The fact that it was delivered by a virtual stranger made it all the more galling.
“When there is no such restriction,” he said, “I’ve learned that people in Bitter Springs have more to say than the
New York World
.”
“There is a lot of talk here,” she said. “And no town newspaper.”
“You don’t need one. Just like you probably don’t need a marshal.”
“I beg to differ on both counts.”
“Yet you did not ask me to be a publisher.”
“Do you have experience operating a newspaper?”
“No.”
“Experience is the salient point here. You carry a gun, don’t you?”
“Not to dinner.”
“But you know how to use one.”
“Yes. And so do the men robbing banks, stealing cattle, and challenging card cheats. One of the reasons people aren’t clamoring to be marshal is because it’s dangerous. Mrs. Sterling knows that all too well.”
Tru fell silent. Cecilia appeared again, this time to take their plates away and replace them with warm slices of apple pie. Tru thanked her and hoped she would recognize it for the dismissal it was. Cecilia lingered long enough to watch Cobb savor his first bite and agree to carry his compliments back to the cook.
“Mrs. Sterling doesn’t make the pies,” Tru said.
“I know. Mrs. Phillips does. But Mrs. Sterling deserves praise for purchasing them from someone so profoundly competent.”
“I will tell Jenny. She is a friend.”
“Then you should definitely tell her.”
“She thinks we need a marshal.”
He shrugged and took another bite of pie.
“The time to look for a marshal is when we don’t need one. If we are faced with the decision at the point of some calamity, it will be more difficult to be thoughtful.”
“Miss Morrow, there is more to being marshal than knowing how to shoot, although as a predictor of success in the job, it’s a reasonably good beginning.” He relished his last bite of pie but declined Tru’s serving when she pushed it toward him.
“What other
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