The first ten minutes of Bullock’s tenure as Sheriff of Deadwood were uneventful. He felt proud of himself, that he’d found a way to improve his family’s well-being. As he walked down the road, a few people noticed the star.
There were a few mutterings about it. “New Sheriff in town” and so forth.
Around the eleventh minute, Bullock noticed that a large crowd had gathered outside the town stable. Curious, Bullock graciously pushed his way through the townsfolk until he was inside.
Harvey Turner, a big man in overalls, was the stable keeper. He stood over a dead body that was lying on the ground, pieces of hay sticking to the blood that covered his face and clothing.
Doctor McGillicuddy was on his knees, examining the body.
“What state exactly was he in when he found him?” the doctor asked.
“I lifted up a bale of hay to feed the horses and there he was,” Harvey said. “Put a fright in me something fierce.”
“What’s going on, Doc?” Bullock asked.
Doctor McGillicuddy had been so busy with his examination that he hadn’t even noticed Bullock’s entry into the stable. He looked up and the first thing that caught his attention was the shiny star pinned to Bullock’s shirt.
“Why in God’s name are you wearing that?” Doctor McGillicuddy asked.