The bartender examined the $2 bill Arthur pushed across the counter, wiped a glass absentmindedly, and said coldly, "Sir, the tables and chairs you trashed yesterday cost more than this."
Arthur rubbed his forehead, a sigh escaping him. "Hey! Come on! Your guys started it. I was just defending myself." He dug into his pocket, producing another $2 bill and placed it before the bartender. "I don't want another fight over your stubbornness."
The bartender counted the bills with a disinterested gaze. "Well, after fixing the window, I'll be left with a few cents."
He slid the money into his pocket and glanced at Arthur, who was tapping his fingers impatiently on the counter. "Sheriff Malloy always needs criminals brought in. Get a reward warrant, take it with you, and see what luck brings. But only if you're a capable gunman. Otherwise, you'll end up being the hunted."
Arthur's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice calm. "Do you think I'm stupid? I don't need tips from the naive. I need real information."
The bartender's hands trembled slightly, almost dropping the glass. "Go out front, take a left, walk to the end of the street. Across the road, there's Keane's Saloon. There's a man there who needs help with a job. I don't know the details, but the pay's good."
Seeing Arthur's expression soften, the bartender leaned closer, cautious of the other patrons. "Ten dollars. This info is valuable, but it's risky telling you."
Arthur smirked, teasing, "Suddenly brave, huh?"
The bartender shot a look around. "Shh! Keep your voice down! Don't know if their people are around here."
Arthur chuckled, sliding $10 across the counter. "This better be worth it. You know what happens if it isn't."
The bartender tucked the money into his pocket, glanced nervously at the room, and whispered, "Deputy Sheriff Craigie seems to be covering for someone. My informant saw him take money from someone at the back door of the clinic."
Arthur grinned. "The sheriff's crooked? Interesting." He drained his glass in one gulp, then stood, patting Jamie on the shoulder. "Come on, let's check the station."
Jamie finished the remaining half glass of wine, shaking his head, and followed Arthur out.
"We'll go on foot," Arthur said. "Riding will draw too much attention. We'll collect the reward order and keep an eye on things at the same time."
"You're the expert," Jamie said drowsily, still feeling the lingering effects of the alcohol.
At the police station, Jamie noticed the sheriff wasn't at the usual post. He leaned toward Arthur, tugging gently. "Arthur, hold on. Something's happening inside."
Crouching, they peered through the window. Sergeant Malloy sat at a table, holding the hand of a woman in a white linen blouse and yellow straw hat, seemingly trying to calm her down.
The woman's face was a mix of anger and frustration. Malloy's voice, deliberately low, carried faintly: "We can't make it public yet, we'll endure it for now. You're my true love, I'll be with you."
Jamie peeked through the window and couldn't help but think,
'Wow, the Sheriff Malloy is shamelessly involved with a woman in broad daylight at the station. Aren't they afraid someone might walk in?'
Of course, Arthur, standing quietly beside him and observing, must have thought the same thing.
Arthur stood up and waved at Jamie with a mischievous grin. "Come on, Jamie. Let's walk in like we don't know anything and see how the sheriff handles this."
Jamie nodded, giving Arthur a knowing look, and together they pushed open the door to the police station.
Sheriff Malloy was startled, dropping his hand from the woman's as they both sprang upright. "Who let you in without knocking? Uh… this is Mrs. Calthorpe. She came to report a crime. Right, ma'am?"
Mrs. Calthorpe nodded quickly. "Yes, I'm here to file a report. Since Sheriff Malloy has taken it, I'll leave now." She made a polite gesture toward the door.
"Please wait a moment, Mrs. Calthorpe," the sheriff stammered. "You can use the back door; it's closer to your home." He winked at the woman discreetly.
"Ah, yes, the shortcut is perfect," she replied and hurried to the rear exit, clearly eager to leave.
Once the woman had gone, Malloy exhaled in relief and looked at Arthur and Jamie, who had barged in so boldly. "Now, tell me, what's the matter that brought you here so urgently?"
Arthur leaned casually against the desk, smiling. "Sheriff Malloy, if I remember right, citizens aren't required to report themselves when entering the station."
Malloy scowled. "True, but your abrupt entrance scared Mrs. Calthorpe, which isn't exactly proper conduct."
"Alright, alright, I admit we were a bit sudden," Arthur replied nonchalantly, then shifted the topic. "We didn't come for trouble—just to see if there's any work to do."
The sheriff sank back in his chair, pointing to two wanted posters pinned on the wall beside him. "Here, these are the current bounties. One's a ruthless drug dealer—last seen north of town near the canyon. The other is a woman who killed her husband, rumored to be camped near Cumberland Falls. If you're interested, you can take a wanted poster."
Arthur didn't hesitate. "We'll take the job."
As they left the police station, Jamie asked, confused, "Why didn't we tell the sheriff what we saw from the window?"
Arthur shook his head with a knowing smile. "Simple. We don't have leverage yet. We can't threaten anyone based on that unless there's more to uncover. Now, let's head to the tavern the bartender mentioned."
The pair made their way to Keane's Saloon, a small, run-down saloon, its wooden sign reading simply "Liquor."
Inside, only three patrons were scattered around. One sat quietly at a table downstairs, sipping his drink, while the other two lingered at the bar.
A portly man with spectacles turned to the man leaning against the bar. "Sir, tell me, what happened in Sylvia's Saloon in 1876?"
The man slouched over the bar, slurring his words, "Nothing really. Just drunken talk, empty tales."
"No, you don't understand, Mr. Calloway. This isn't just talk, it's history," the fat man insisted.
"It's all past now, all dust. The dead are lucky; the living will keep suffering," the other murmured, before drifting into sleep.
The fat man sighed, rubbing his face. "Things are not going well."
Arthur leaned closer to the man and asked, "You looking for help?"
"Yes," the man replied eagerly. "This is Jim "Boy" Calloway, the gunslinger with the fastest left-hand draw in the West, who once killed fourteen men in the battle of Lewsey Hollow." He jabbered excitedly, introducing his companion to Jamie and Arthur.
"Since he's as deadly as you say, what are you waiting for?" Arthur asked, leaning casually against the saloon railing.
"What?" The man looked genuinely confused, his face flushed from drink.
"Look at him right now," Arthur continued, pushing lightly on the unresponsive drunk. "You could take him down with one hand."
"No! You don't understand! I don't want to kill him! I want to deify him! He's my God!" the rotund man yelled, almost tripping over himself in excitement.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, amused. "Alright, alright. How do you plan on deifying him?"
The man wiped his sweaty forehead, pointing at the drunk beside him. "I thought about writing a biography, but it's hopeless. Now I'd rather duel with him. Either I kill him and prove I'm the best sharpshooter in the West, or he kills me and sets me free. That way, I'll never have to deal with him again."
Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "Ha. I think you're starting to understand the thrill of being a gunslinger. Either way, it's a win—freedom or honor."
The man quickly scribbled into a notebook he pulled from his pocket. "Hey, that line's gold. I'm writing it down."
Looking up, he asked, "Sir, are you a gunslinger too?"
Arthur smirked. "Not exactly. If I need someone gone, I find a way to knock 'em down from behind. As long as I win, the rest is just noise."
The man leaned in closer, eyes wide. "Do you like money?"
"Of course," Arthur replied without hesitation. "Everyone does, and everyone needs it."
The man shuffled nervously. "Alright, pardon the sudden question. I'm desperate. You might not know this, but I have big hopes for this book…" He pulled several sepia-toned photographs from his jacket pocket, spreading them on the table. "These are the gunslingers—legends all: Emmett Granger, Flaco Hernandez, Billy Midnight, and the Black Belle. Maybe you can track them down, talk to them, see what they think of Calloway. If anyone dares to despise him, well… help me take care of that."
Arthur let out a low whistle. "So you want me to find these deluded fools like Calloway, ask if they think he's the best, and if they laugh at him, I handle it? Sounds easy enough. But what's in it for me?"
Eyes sparkling with excitement, the man replied, "A lot. I'll give you half the profits from my book if you can make this happen."
Arthur leaned back, smirking. "Alright. I'll keep an eye on them for you."
The man handed him a small, square box. "Oh, and remember to take a picture."
Jamie squinted at the square box, curiosity lighting up his eyes. 'Hey, is this the same kind of camera from before? That doesn't seem right. I remember seeing those massive cameras in films, the ones that puff smoke when they take pictures. Could they have been modified in town?' he wondered, examining the device.
The other person leaned closer, lowering their voice. "Also, there are some notes behind the photos. These should help you track them quickly. If you have any news, just send it here directly. For now, I'm staying put."
Jamie nodded. "Alright, we'll let you know as soon as we find anything." Arthur carefully packed the photos and camera before stepping out of the tavern alongside Jamie.
"I thought this would be a quick payday, but it's another missing person job. Looks like you won't be getting your gun today," Arthur said, flipping through the photos and assessing the wanted men. "These gunslingers seem to be well-armed."
Jamie waved a hand dismissively. "No worries. You just focus on what you do best. I can scout the town, gather information, and keep an eye on things for you."
Arthur paused, resting a hand on Jamie's shoulder. "Jamie, you need to remember—it's dangerous for gang members to wander alone in the West. Even if you don't stir trouble, trouble will find you. It's better to stick in pairs or trios, watch each other's backs. You might think you're holding me back, but you're actually keeping me safe. Enough of the lecture though—let's check out the back of the clinic and see what's going on there." He gave Jamie a reassuring smile, then led him toward the clinic's rear entrance.
Behind the clinic stood a separate brick building with an iron door, solid and unyielding. Compared to the usual wooden structures of the town, it looked more like a small fort or a secure office. Its sturdiness suggested there might be more to it than met the eye.
Arthur pointed to a tree on the uphill side. "Jamie, see that tree over there? Let's set up and keep watch. Something about this place feels off, and we might find a clue if we stay alert." Jamie nodded, understanding the plan.
Together, they moved cautiously toward the tree, ready to observe the building and whatever secrets it might hold.
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