When George Hinkle’s term of office was up, Seamus planned to turn in his badge. He would devote himself to acquiring a saloon of his own. That, and his partial interest in the Comique, would ensure a comfortable income, enough to spoil himself with the creature comforts he was so fond of.
Seamus thought it a shame he had not been born into money. Wealth would become him. The best clothes, the best liquor, the best food, the best women, they were the nectar that sweetened the tedium of life. He became so absorbed in his musing that he was on his third glass before he realized it. A glance at the clock told him he should be on his way. Hinkle had said to report to him as soon as he got back.
Seamus was in good spirits as he reined to the rail in front of the sheriff’s office. The door was open, which puzzled him, and deputies and other men were coming and going in a hurry, which added to his puzzlement. Climbing down, he encountered Deputy French, who was coming out.
“Glickman! Where have you been? The sheriff has had us looking all over for you.”
“He has?”
“You better get in there. I have to go to the stable for the packhorse we will need to bring the body back. Although why we don’t bury him there is beyond me.”
“Body?” Seamus said, but Deputy French had already hurried on down the street. Squaring his shoulders, Seamus entered, and nearly collided with an elderly man he recognized as the justice of the peace, who was just leaving.
“Watch where you are going, sonny.”
Seamus opened his mouth to tell the old man where he could go. But George Hinkle stepped between them.
“Finally! Where the hell have you bent? I sent you to do a simple job and all hell has busted loose.”
“I did as you wanted,” Seamus said. “I went to the schoolhouse but the schoolmarm wasn’t there.” He started to smile, to tell the sheriff about the schoolmarm and the shootist.
“She wasn’t there because she was at the justice of the peace, being forced to wed against her will.”
“What?”
“That was Horace Dundleman. He says Jeeter Frost dragged Miss Prescott to his place and made him marry them.”
“What?”
“Dundleman says there was nothing he could do to stop it. Frost was wearing that fancy Colt of his and was in a foul temper. Dundleman says he was lucky Frost didn’t shoot him.”
“What?”
George Hinkle studied Seamus. “Why do you keep saying that? Where have you been, anyhow? I expected you back long ago.”
It took some doing but Seamus collected his wits. “I was patrolling Front Street.”
“You should have come straight back, like I told you to,” Hinkle said. “All hell has broken loose. In addition to Frost stealing our schoolmarm, there has been another killing. Out-and-out murder this time, no self-defense.”
“Coffin Varnish?” Seamus naturally assumed.
“Crooked Creek,” Sheriff Hinkle said. “Sam Hoyt has been shot. No word on who is to blame, but whoever it is did a thorough job. Sam has twenty to thirty bullet holes in him.”
“What?”
“There you go again,” Sheriff Hinkle said. He moved to the gun cabinet, opened it, and took out a Winchester. “We have a murder and a kidnapping on our hands. I will investigate the murder. You will lead a posse and go after Jeeter Frost and Miss Prescott.”
Seamus needed to sit down. He could use another drink, too. “A posse?”
The sheriff glanced sharply around. “You begin to worry me. Yes, a posse. What else did you expect? That we would let a killer waltz in and steal the flower of our womanhood without lifting a finger to stop him?”
“You are sure about the marrying?”
Hinkle helped himself to a box of cartridges. “You saw Dundleman with your own eyes.”
“No, I meant are you sure she was forced?” Seamus could not shake the image of the woman and the man by the side of the road, and how it was the woman who pulled the man close and kissed him.
“Are you suggesting that our schoolmarm, a model of decorum for the whole community, would want to wed a man like Jeeter Frost?”
“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Seamus said.
“Where is the jump? Our schoolmarm disappears. She shows up at the justice of the peace with a notorious gun shark who insists the justice of the peace marry them then and there.” Hinkle began feeding cartridges into the Winchester. “The whole town will be out to stretch Jeeter Frost’s neck, and I can’t say as I blame them.”
“I better organize that posse,” Seamus said despondently. Once again circumstances conspired to force him to leave Dodge.
“Being tended to as we speak,” Sheriff Hinkle said. “I told Deputy Powell to round up twenty sober men who can ride.”
“Do we have any idea which direction they went?” Seamus had no desire to spend hours riding in circles.
“No, we do not.”
“Has anyone checked the schoolhouse? Or wherever the schoolmarm is staying?”
