Falcon welcomed the sheriff’s offer of coffee for what it was, an invitation for them to talk more privately.
“I don’t mind if I do,” Falcon answered, stepping up onto the boardwalk.
“How they goin’ to act now? They holdin’ the girl’s killin’ against all whites?” someone shouted from the crowd.
“Is there goin’ to be an Indian war?” another man called.
The sheriff stepped in front of the crowd and held up his hands as if pushing them back. “Now listen, you people, go on now,” the sheriff said. “Haven’t you got something else to do? Shoo, get away.”
“Sheriff, now by damn we got us a right to know if there’s goin’ to be an Indian war or not,” one of the men said challengingly. “And you ain’t got no right to keep us in the dark.”
“I have no intention of keeping you in the dark, but there ain’t no way Mr. MacCallister can get told what all has to be told with all of you standin’ around here shoutin’ at him. If there is somethin’ you need to know, I’ll tell you first thing,” Sheriff Corbin said. “But for now, there ain’t none of you goin’ to find out anythin’ unless I find it out first. Get on back to your business, all of you.”
“This ain’t right, Sheriff.”
“I tell you what, Chandler,” the sheriff said, growing impatient now. “You can come inside if you want to, and spend the next twenty-four hours in the cell.”
“On what charge?” the man named Chandler challenged angrily.
“On the charge of you’re too damn ugly to be standin’ out in public,” the sheriff replied, and it had the desired effect of causing everyone, including Chandler, to laugh.
“All right, all right,” Chandler said. “But don’t you forget to let us know what you find out.” Chandler walked away then, and his action led the others away as well.
“Come on inside,” the sheriff said, “and I’ll pour you that coffee.”
Falcon followed the sheriff inside, then sat down in a chair, removed his hat, and ran his hand through his hair.
“Thanks for getting me away from the mob,” he said.
“How is it?” the sheriff asked as he poured a cup of coffee.
“Beg your pardon?”
“The wound you have in your head. I see you’re runnin’ your hand across it. Is the wound botherin’ you any?”
“No, not really,” Falcon said. “It’s just a force of habit, I guess.” He put his hat back on.
The sheriff handed Falcon the cup of coffee. “So, are we? Going to have us an Indian war, I mean.”
“Not if I can help it,” Falcon replied. The coffee was hot, and he extended his lips and slurped it in order to cool it.
“Not if you can help it? Good Lord, man, you mean the issue is in doubt?”
“Yeah, you might say that.”
“How? Why?”
“I had to promise Keytano and the council that I would track down the men who killed his daughter.”
The sheriff looked relieved. “Well, that is understandable. And by the way, we have even more reasons to track them down now.”
“How is that?”
“It turns out that when they escaped from jail back in Calabasas, they killed the sheriff, both his deputies, and the kid who worked at the livery stable,” the sheriff said. “We just got word of it today.”
“So, counting the expressman back in Calabasas, the sheriff, his two deputies, the kid at the corral, the shotgun guard, and Cloud Dancer ... that makes seven people they’ve killed just in the last few days,” Falcon said. He sighed. “They have really been on a tear.”
“Seven that we know of,” Sheriff Corbin said. “There’s no telling what they have done since they left here.”
“If somebody gets in their way, they won’t hesitate to kill them, that’s for sure,” Falcon said.
Sheriff Corbin walked over to his desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out a star.
“What’s that for?” Falcon asked.
“You may recollect that I offered this to you before, when you took the girl back to the Indian village. I reckon you were right to turn it down then. But I’m offerin’ it to you again.” He crossed over to where Falcon was sitting and held the star out toward him. “I wish you’d take it.”
Falcon held up his hand. “Sorry, Sheriff, but I’m goin’ to have to turn it down again.”
“Why? It might come in handy for you, havin’ the law on your side.”
Falcon shook his head. “What I have to do, the law would want no part of,” he said. “And I wouldn’t want to put the burden of my action on the law.”
Sheriff Corbin stared at Falcon. “What are you talking about? Huntin’ down those folks ... even huntin’ them down and killin’ them would be doin’ the work of the law.”
Falcon pointed to the star. “Sheriff, if I’m wearing that badge, I would be honor bound to try and bring them in alive for trial,” he said.
