Bookshelf Battle

The next day, Slade, Gunther, the Knoxes and Joe sat in the back of the church, pondering their next move.

“Shot him even though he was dead?” Gunther asked.

Slade nodded in confirmation. “Three times…in the head.”

“Makes no sense,” Gunther replied.

Knox had a low baritone voice, ominous with a touch of authority. “Army life doesn’t make much sense. Serve long enough and you see things. Things that would turn a Sunday preacher loco. Sounds like you ran into a couple of nutters.”

“But the telegram about Colorado being overrun by monsters,” Gunther said. “These fellas saying their regiment’s gone. I sent telegrams to Denver and Washington and haven’t heard a peep back yet. I’ll check again this afternoon.”

“New gang?” Knox asked. “Scum buckets throwing their wait around. Trying to make a name for themselves.”

“A gang that could overtake Colorado?” Gunther asked.

“Uxley always was full of shit,” Knox said. “Remember we met him at Antietam? Bastard damn near exaggerated about everything.”

“You’re thinking of Captain Exler ya’ old goat,” Gunther said. “We didn’t meet any Uxleys at Antietam.”

“Pretty sure his name was Uxley,” Knox said. “And who are you calling old, Methuselah?”

The Knox boys sat back, bored out of their minds, no interest in the conversation whatsoever. Joe stopped resting his chin in the palm of his hand and spoke up.

“You all should leave,” Joe said, his tone grave. “Evacuate the town. Get far, far away.”

“Uxley did say to leave,” Knox pointed out.

“Uxley isn’t charge of a cockroach taking a shit,” Gunther stated ever so eloquently. “You need an order from Washington to leave or else its desertion.”

The deputies bickered for a few minutes until a fed up Slade banged his fist on the table.

“I don’t leave for anyone,” the boss said.

Ironically, he picked that very moment to leave the table.

“Where ya’ going?” Gunther asked.

“To check on the Widow Farquhar,” Slade said.

“Good idea,” Gunther said. “Aint safe out there for a lady with…well whatever’s happening.”

“Check her out a couple of times for me too,” Knox said.

Slade, realized that comment was good natured, Knox’s way of dishing out an “Atta boy!”

He let it go and headed for the front door, opened it, and low and behold, the newfound object of his affection was already standing there, an overflowing picnic basket in hand.

“Marshal! You startled me!”

Slade wasn’t one to get startled. “Miss Sarah.”

Back at the table, Knox leaned over to Gunther.

“She bringing him food?” Knox asked.

“Yup,” Gunther said.

“Shit, that’s a keeper.”