Lackies in tow, Blythe walked away from the station and headed down the main road through town.
“It’s excellent,” Blythe said. “Better than I imagined.”
“Sir,” Hewitt said. “We can’t find the boy.”
“Keep searching,” Blythe said.
“We’ve already gone as far as Iowa and Illinois,” Becker protested.
“We must satisfy the board that everything was done to locate him,” Blythe said. “If he isn’t found today, you’re free to hunt down Freeman this evening.”
“Yes sir,” Becket said.
As the trio passed by an office marked “Herbert O’Brien, Professional Photographer” their heads were turned by a very raspy, “Hold it.”
Slade was taking a smoke break while Sarah was inside, going over the details with O’Brien. The ex-marshal exhaled some cigar smoke in Blythe’s direction.
“Ah,” Blythe said. Good day Marshal…or rather, good day, Mr. Slade. I forgot how you so callously abandoned your noble position, leaving the denizens of Highwater to fend off themselves against all manner of villainy.”
“I think I’m staring at a villain right now,” Slade said.
Blythe clutched his chest as if to say, “Who, me?”
Slade nodded.
“Such hostile paranoia,” Blythe said. “It’s very unbecoming.”
“What is that monstrosity you brought to town this morning?” Slade asked.
Blythe feigned a dumbfounded expression. He looked to Hewitt, then to Becker, then back to Slade. “It’s a train, sir. You put goods you want moved onto it and then it goes ‘choo choo’ and takes them where they need to be.”
“I’ve never seen a train pack that much firepower before,” Slade said.
“It’s very simple,” Blythe said. “Our accountants took a hard look at the losses we’ve suffered over the years, shipments lost to outlaws, bandits, Indians and what have you. They did the math and determined it is cheaper to protect what is ours the first time rather than continue to paying to replace our property ad infinitum. Rest assured, Mr. Slade. If the Federal government will not part with the money necessary to tame the West, the Legion Corporation will.”
“It looks like something that should belong to the Army,” Slade said. “Not you.”
“I assure you all relevant government authorities were consulted and proper permits were obtained,” Blythe said.
“Must have cost you a pretty penny, all that bribery,” Slade said.
Blythe grinned. “Mr. Slade, I do believe we have gotten off on the wrong foot. The Legion Corporation could use a man like you. Your intellect, your talent, it’s all going to waste in your premature retirement. What say we get together and discuss the generous salary I’m prepared to offer you as a rail line security agent?”
Slade chomped on his cigar and gave his answer out of the corner of his mouth. “What say you go fuck yourself?”
Like clockwork, Hewitt and Becker took that as an invitation to move in closer. Blythe raised a hand and backed them off.
“How unfortunate,” Blythe said.
The office door opened and Sarah walked out, accompanied by Mr. O’Brien. He was a short man with a round face.
“Years from now you’ll be glad you did this, ma’am,” O’Brien said. “Memories may fade but a photograph is forever!”
“Oh Rain,” Sarah said. “You really must see some of the wonderful photographs Mr. O’Brien has taken. They’re amazing.”
Sarah noticed Blythe. “Oh. Hello.”
“Good day, ma’am,” Blythe said. “You must be the soon to be Mrs. Slade. I apologize for my boldness, but gossip does have a way of floating through the breeze in this town.”
“Yes,” Sarah said, extending her hand. “Sarah Farquhar.”
The counselor took Sarah’s hand and kissed it, much to Slade’s very visible dismay. “Au chante, mademoiselle,” Blythe said.
O’Brien chimed in. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Blythe. I heard there was a new gentleman in town. I hope you’ll stop by and do me the honor of taking your portrait one of these days.”
“Thank you sir, but, no,” Blythe said. “I’m afraid I do not…photograph well.”
Blythe tipped his hat to Slade. “Good day.”
The trio walked off. Slade followed them into the road. He put a hand on Blythe’s shoulder. Hewitt and Becker immediately reached for their guns, prompting Slade to reach for his. Blythe intervened before weapons were drawn.
“Gentlemen, please. We mustn’t lower ourselves to savagery.”
“We aren’t done yet,” Slade said.
“Aren’t we?” Blythe asked. “Mr. Slade, have you picked up your star since you gave it away?”
“No,” Slade replied.
“And tell me, have you acquired any new credentials to back up this unseemly bravado of yours?”
“No,” Slade repeated.
“I see,” Blythe said. “Well then, to borrow from your prior and rather unceremonious vernacular, I do suggest you go and fuck yourself, Mr. Slade. Good day.”
As the trio walked away, Sarah Joined her impending husband on the street.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“Just some asshole,” Slade said.
Sarah lightly swatted Slade on the arm. “You know I don’t like that language.”
Down the road, the trio schemed.
“Should we take care of him?” Hewitt asked.
“No,” Blythe said. “Leave him to me.”
Bookshelf Battle 