The Bride

Chapter 9 - Arrivals and Revelations

The door flew open and Walter dropped his piece of cake on the desk, icing down on the Sheriff's notes. He jumped up and his eyes grew wide as he recognized the man as one of Wellman's boys; he had seen them in the saloon when Nathan shooed them out.

"Where's the Sheriff?"

"Uh- he- ah . . . out. He's out."

"I can see that. Where is he?"

"Not sure exactly- you can try the hotel."

Gus turned and left, slamming the door and Walter wiped his face in relief, leaving a smear of pink icing on his forehead. He looked around trying to figure what to do. He was in charge, Nathan had said so. Right, so what would Nathan do? His eyes fell on the mess he'd made on the desk and decided that was his first priority.

*********

The afternoon stage arrived in its usual cloud of dust and clamour. The driver calmed the team and set the brake then hopped down and opened the door. "Parkerville." He announced sparingly.

Ansen Playford stepped out and glanced around, moving aside so Trace could debark and get the bags.

"Where's the hotel?" Ansen demanded.

"Right behind you, mister. Careful it don't bite." The driver spat into the dust and stared Ansen down. Trace moved between them, smiling with his mouth only. The driver licked his lips, tugged his hat and moved away.

"Get us a room, I'm going to check out the saloon." Ansen said, leaving Trace to carry the bags.

************

Mrs. Hastings tilted forward as she chugged up the street, lips pursed, arms pumping. She had gone all the way to the Sheriff's office only to find he was probably right beside the bank in the hotel. Find the Sheriff and give him this information Mr. Ashbridge had said, as if she was some simple clerk instead of an important secretary. Mrs. Hastings rehearsed her response for when she got back to the bank as she pushed through the hotel doors and demanded to know where the Sheriff was.

"In the saloon, ma'am but I don't thin-" Ryan shrugged as the diminutive woman barged toward the saloon.

Nathan was at the bar watching Corbin in the mirror, sulking and drinking. He looked like a man building up courage to do something - something deadly. The poke in his side gave him a start and he spun around, hand darting to his holster.

"The stage arrived and Mr. Ashbridge told me to see you got this." She dropped the envelope on the bar, ignoring his defensive response. "My position at the bank does not include running all over town looking for the Sheriff or delivering mail."

"I'm sure it doesn't--"

"And I don't appreciate being used this way so I would advise you not to make a habit of using me as your personal delivery person."

Nathan nodded, looking down into the stubborn face and trying to smile."I sure didn't expect that you would--"

"And you better not expect it again." Spinning on her tiny heel, Mrs. Hastings left the same way she entered - hard and fast.

A couple of the men at the bar snickered and threw a few taunts about Nathan starting to draw down on little old ladies. He accepted the jibes and tore open the envelope, reading with great interest what they had learned about Ansen Playford back in Cincinnati.

Corbin looked over to see what the joking was about as the man entered the saloon and took a table by the door. The suit said somewhere back east and the face said opportunist. When he was joined by the taller man, Corbin felt something slide up his back. He'd seen enough men who lived by the gun to recognize a professional and the way they sat surveying the room said they weren't in Parkerville for a rest.