The door jingled as it closed behind me. The man I took to be the shop owner looked up from the paperwork laying before him on the counter.
As I advanced into the room he pushed his glasses up on his nose and regarded me more closely. His gaze had a way of taking everything in and I immediately felt respect for the man far separate from the diminutive physical presentation he presented the world with.
He couldn’t be much past five feet tall and other than his balding head he had nothing else distinguishable about him except for the intelligence of his eyes.
“Can I help you sir?”
“I need a few things.”
The man’s eyes took in my appearance again and a slight smile reached his thin lips as he said, “Yes, I can see that.”
Tilting his head to the side he asked, “You’re the man they brought in that survived the snakebite aren’t you?”
I nodded.
He closed the ledger before him with a snap and said, “Well let’s see then, I think a change of clothes are in order and perhaps some new boots and………”
I held up a hand forestalling him from going further, “I don’t have money to pay for anything, but I’ve just been hired on as the Marshal. I’m told the position in addition to my wage of forty dollars a month comes along with on the job expenses. I need some bullets and I would like a knife. Can I look at your selection?”
“Certainly! They’re right over there.” He said pointing to a display case.
“Thank you. I’ll be back next month to buy what else I need.” I said, as I went over to the case in question.
The shop owner moved busily about the store as I debated over what knife to get. I’d lost my Arkansas toothpick and I was sorely tempted to get the biggest knife in the case, but the workmanship of it was shoddy and I couldn’t bring myself to replace the best knife I’d ever owned with something so inferior.
It wasn’t practical either. As a Marshal it would be for the best to have a knife that was more discrete so I chose a long slim boot knife.
I tapped on the glass and the shop owner came over. He nodded approvingly and slipped the knife out of the case and then pulled free another knife as well.
The second knife was quite small and of a curious design. Its blade was little bigger than an arrow head and it had a rounded ball of a handle too short to grip a hold of with the entire hand.
The shop owner pulled it free of its tiny sheath and demonstrated its application. He made a fist. The rounded ball of the handle was within his palm, but the blade of the knife stuck out between his fisted middle two fingers.
Nice! That would make quite the punch.
I took both knives and headed to the main counter in order to collect my bullets. I came to a stop as I took in the folded pile of clothes, the pair of new boots, and various other items all set out on the counter.
I started to protest, but the shop owner preempted me by saying, “Can’t be having our new Marshal not looking his best now can we?”
It really hadn’t been a question.
I studied him as he bagged up the items for me. “You’re taking quite the risk on me being around for a while seeing as how your last Marshal is being put under today.”
He looked at me again with his implacable gaze and said, “I’ll take the risk. The names Angus McLean and it’s been a pleasure to meet you Marshal.”
He held his hand out and I shook it. Taking the bags I left the store feeling very much in the man’s debt. Of everyone so far he seemed to respect me the most and I didn’t intend to disappoint him.
Stepping back out on the boardwalk I made my way to the wash house just down the street and opened a tab. The Chinese owner was only too glad to offer the new Marshal a bath.
*****
The water was cooling off, but the feel of just water against my skin, after the feeling of being parched without it still vivid in my memory kept me staying within the tepid water overly long. The bath had helped to take the residual sting out of my arm too.
The doors of the wash house busted open and three men with a jingle of spurs strode into the room. With stated harshness the leader of the three jerked a finger at me and asked, “You the new Marshal?”
“One and the same.”
“Well I want to know what you’re going to do about the squatters that have moved onto my range! The last coward they had to wear a tin star didn’t do a thing! The gutless wonder! Now how about it?”
“And your name would be?” I asked calmly.
“Doug Stryker. I own one of the biggest spreads around Orlaca.”
I nodded, “Well Mr. Stryker I’ll look into it and I’ll let you know what I find out.”
The man swore viciously and said, “You’ll look into it right now! Boys pull the tinhorn coward out of that tub!”
The timbers of the barrel tub shattered and all three men stumbled about trying to keep their footing as the sudsy water washed about their legs. Standing up I shoved the two enforcers towards their master and stooping down I grabbed a hold of the metal band that had held in the staves of the washtub.
Bringing the wide band of metal up and over my head I then rammed it down over the heads of the three men. It was a tight fit and with startled exclamations the men fought against the metal band that held their arms to their sides and kept all three of them pressed tightly together.
Cursing they fought against each other in their bid to be free. Picking up one of the slats of the tub I proceeded to conk the three foulmouthed individuals on the head and with startled grunts of pain they fell to the wet floor still bound together.
I wasn’t done yet though. The three banded together men were silent party to me picking up three bars of soap, which I then rammed into their unconscious mouths.
“There maybe that will clean your mouths out and teach you to leave a man taking a bath alone!” I said with satisfaction.
I turned to see the Chinaman, who ran the place, looking upon the whole scene with shock.
“Sorry about the tub.” I said.
“No! No! It okay.” He said, as he dashed forward and rifled through Doug Stryker’s pockets and came out with several coins, which he held up triumphantly, “See!”
I nodded, even as I noted for future reference not to leave loose change in my pockets when I came to take a bath.
The Chinaman blabbered on excitedly as I dressed and then abruptly sobered up at a sudden realization, “What about when they wake up? Big trouble! They come for you!”
I shrugged and said, “They’re welcome to come.”
Chinaman said pointing to my chest, “You brave man! Make good Marshal Man, maybe I should…….” He trailed off, as he made a gesture, as if wringing a chicken’s neck before pointing to the three metal banded men.
“Wong that would be murder and I’d hate to have to hang you.”
He shrugged and offered hopefully, “Less trouble for all?”
Smiling I shook my head no. Adjusting my new clothes, which fit me perfectly, I slid my feet into my new boots and slung on my gun belt. “Behave yourself Wong.” I called out as I left the wash house.
I walked on down the street to the jailhouse. Looking around the town I wondered for the first time about the key aspects of my job. Just what did a Marshal do?
Such as what was in my authority to do and how far did my jurisdiction extend from the town?
A host of other questions suddenly plagued my mind and troubled I headed on into the jail. I walked in only to see Edgar packing his stuff up.
“All done with the funeral?” I asked.
Edgar looked up guiltily, but I didn’t overly care now about how I had been fooled into accepting this job.
“Are there any books on law or the such in the town?”
Edgar blinked in surprise and then gesturing to the desk he said, “Yeah I think there’s a couple of books in one of those drawers.”
“Thanks.” I said going to the desk.
Edgar went back to packing up, but after a moment he went back to watching me as I cracked open one of the dusty books from the bottom drawer. After a while he went back to packing.
He was all but out the door with his stuff when he came back to the desk and laid something on it. Breaking my focus from the rather boring treatise on law I saw that it was a badge that he had laid down.
There was still blood on it. Edgar backed away silently and went out the door and closed it.
I looked from the badge to the boring book of laws in my hand. I dropped the book back in the drawer and rooting around I came out with a Bible that reminded me of the one that my mother had read from.
Fingering its worn edges I snorted absently in disgust. I hadn’t even been sworn into office as Marshal over a Bible as the custom was to do. Such inattention to detail spoke a great deal as to how long these people expected me to survive as Marshal.
I cracked the Bible open and read for a while. It had been a long time and I found myself absorbed into the stories that I’d heard read to me by my mother.