"You're gonna have to douse that girl with a bucket of cold water." Ethan said, watching Miss June waggle up the grand staircase, her trim ankles flashing with each saucy step. "Either that, or get the mayor over here and plumb wear 'im out."

"Austin doesn't wear out." Verna chuckled, watching the girl disappear along the balcony. "From what I've heard lately, he doesn't get the chance." She flashed him an amused look, tapping his hand with her long nails.

"Hah! I guess you're right there. Seems I have bin curtailin' the mayor's pastime recently." Bragg sipped at his beer and toyed with the brim of his hat, sitting on the table. "Maybe you can help me Verna—"

"I've been dying for the opportunity." Her lashes wafted up and down coyly.

Ethan shook his head and clucked. "Yeah, well . . . what I meant was, do you know any of the galoots that come in here that might be handy with a gun?"

"Are you expecting some kind of trouble Ethan, or are you just bored? "Cause if you're bored, I can—"

"Verna! I'm serious. I'm looking for deputies. I need some extra guns . . . temporarily." He bit his tongue, thinking how he'd blasted Austin for the same description. "A situation might come up and I don't want to be unprepared."

She searched his face, mimicking the concern it showed. "Does this have something to do with those two marshals?"

Ethan sighed, stalling his reply and making wet circles on the table top with his sweating glass. "I reckon your knowing would probably be a wise thing." He took another gulp of his beer and began the long story, giving her all the facts as he knew them.

When he was done, she poured herself a stiff shot from the whiskey bottle on the table. A spray of sunlight poured through the swinging doors, sending Bragg's shadow scooting across the plank floor and up the far wall. Dust motes performed a lazy waltz in its glare, and the only sound was the loud ticking from another of Hector Field's morbid clocks.

"This marshal, Tyrone, where is he now?"

"Ah, he figured it might be useful to visit some of the outlying ranches, see if anybody saw a stranger recently." Bragg shook his head and leaned over the table. "He's killed four people since he broke out. If the people Tyrone visits are lucky, they won't have seen him." The saloon door swung open, sending the dust motes into a dizzying whirl and startling Bragg. He turned quickly to find young Daniel heading toward him, a sheet of paper clutched purposefully in his tiny hand.

"Mister Kinsdale said to fetch this to you right away sheriff." He handed Bragg the wire and jerked off his cap when he saw Verna smiling at him.

Bragg watched the boy marching lightly on the spot under Verna's amused gaze. "Verna, this is young Daniel, the most reliable help I've found in this town so far. Daniel, say hello to Miss Fairweather, the owner of this grand place."

Verna leaned forward, extending her slim hand. "Very pleased to meet a young gentleman with such a glowing reputation, Daniel."

"P-pleasure's mine m-m-ma'am." He answered, his cheeks exploding with colour. His little hand slid from hers and joined the other, clutching his cap.

"Was there something else?" Her sleek eyebrows rose questioningly. Daniel turned to the sheriff, expectation bursting through his flushing cheeks.

Bragg looked up from the wire, a deep crease pulling his wiry eyebrows together. "Huh? Oh. I've been paying the boy a five-cent piece for helpin'. I'm fresh out, can you do me a favour?"

Verna snickered and pulled open the drawstring on her satin purse. "Here you go young Daniel." She pressed the coin into his moist palm. "Make sure you save all that money to spend in here when you're grown up."

"I- I surely will ma'am." Jamming his cap on his head and clutching his treasure, he scurried out the door, chased by his eager shadow.

"Bad news?"

"Ain't good. It's from Marshal Gower. Says he tracked a lone rider from up where the old man was killed, down into the valley where it appeared he joined a wagon train. Gower tracked the wagons to a place called Smuther's Water Hole. Says the whole area was burned out, looked like some kind of incident took place there."

"Where's the wire from?" Verna asked.

"Place called the Milk River Conserve. He tracked the wagons there."

"Hah! I've been there." Verna chuckled. "Used to work in a place called Dinty's. Dinty Waller, I wonder if he's still alive."

"He goes on to say that the rider he was trackin' was lookin' for the man that slaughtered his family up in Golden Sky. Gower says he's headin' back here, and will fill me in when he arrives." Bragg sat back counting on his fingers. "Judging from the time it's taken him already, I reckon he should be back here in a couple of days."

"Well I can tell you it's four days by wagon, so a lone rider should make it easy in two." She gave a bit of a gasp, considering what she'd said. "Ethan, that could mean your man could be here anytime now . . . if he came this way."

"I know." Bragg grabbed his hat and stood up. "Thanks for the beer Verna. If you see Horace, tell him to hightail it over to the jail, would ya." He gave her an impotent grin and headed out to his office.