Chapter 1
Narrator:
Some men enjoyed huntin', others liked a good card game, not so Sherriff Harris Owens . If he had his druthers, he'd spend his days apprehending train robbers, or bank robbers, or stagecoach robbers for that matter. Anything that resulted in a horse chase in an effort to catch a bad guy was a damn good time.
It made a man feel like a man.
Which made days like today so damn depressing.
Damn depressing, indeed. You see today Sheriff Owens missed the pesky train robbin' varmints only to be left with, well, nothin’.
Harris allowed a sigh and released the door to the empty safe. “These guys were pros,” he muttered to himself. Professionals with fancy new technology. The safe had employed a fibercast jigiron heart lock, but that security device had been blown open by some sort of incendiary squib. Harris had never seen one able to power open a lock while doing such little damage to its surroundings.
The only thing Harris knew for sure was that the robbers got on the train at one of its stops, tied up the guard, took the gold bullion from the safe, and got off the train before the theft was discovered by train employees at this stop. He used a commonsense guess to ascertain the events because no one had seen a damn thing.
No mean looking hombres in bandannas, except for the two cowboys headed to Vergina City, Nev'adda for a bit of fun before starting new jobs at the Curly C Ranch in Washliper Valley. No gun wielding thieves, except for the three businessmen on their way home from a conference in Sang Frensighsco. No demands of jewelry and cash from the passengers except from a young woman wondering why her beau hadn’t yet given her a wedding ring and a young boy asking his beleaguered mother for a penny for candy. To top it off, there had not been a single unscheduled train stop.
The safe had been full and locked at the last depot and now at the Vergina City depot it was empty, and the guard incapacitated. It stood to reason that the robbers got on and off the train with no fanfare or posturing. Just regular train passengers going about their regular lives.
One of his deputies entered the car carrying a large knife and he went right to the still unconscious and roped up guard slumped in the corner. The robbers used a thin, easy to carry, easy to conceal rope to tie up the guard. Harris assumed they used etherium to knock him out because the man showed no signs of bodily force and he was sleeping, trussed up in the corner, like a happy baby. That is until Harris saw an empty metal canister in the corner. He picked it up and sighed again. Nope, no etherium involved.
"I can't make sense of any of it, Sheriff,” another of his deputies said from the doorway. “There was a lot of commotion in the passenger cars. Crying babies, arguing women, drunk teens, and something about a kid with a couple of loose chickens. No one saw anything unusual.”
Harris nodded. Yep, these guys were professionals. “Keep on it, Ted. Find out everything the passengers remember about the ride no matter how insignificant. Smells, sounds, colors, people, it might prove useful later on.”
The sky outside the train car was a bright blue without a single cloud and the air pulled in dry and sage tinged. Harris took a deep breath. Sage filled air was one of the many things he loved about living in the high desert of Nev’adda. The wide-open spaces were another. But, after a rare rainstorm hit, (which hadn’t happened in a while) well the world was lush with the rich aroma of sage. Today, the sun was bright and clear, no signs of rain, and Harris put on his eyeshades to protect against the intense rays.
His foot had barely hit the platform when he saw the well-dressed Easterner waiting for him. He’d met the senator a few days ago when the man had first rolled into town in a plush personal locomotive car. Senator Sterling Worth was well known in these parts as the man trying to push law and order in lawless territories while doing his best to hold railroad and mining companies to a standard of ethics. He used bold words and bold tactics to get his points across and his mandates enacted.
Harris didn’t trust him. Nine times outta ten do-gooders had a hidden agenda and Harris would bet the good senator sided with nine more times than not. The man was here to investigate the mines, but Harris couldn’t help feeling that there was something else brewing with the senator and he couldn’t help feeling that he was involuntarily involved. Nothing set in stone, just a hunch, and Harris always followed his gut.
“Good morning, Sheriff,” Senator Worth greeted. “It looks like you’ve had quite a day already.”
Harris nodded his greeting. "Senator."
"Sheriff, I'd like you to meet Jagx Ransom. Mr. Ransom needs your help in a matter of national security.”
See, involuntarily involved.
Do-gooders always wanted you to do things for them for “the good of mankind” and all that claptrap. Nothing for it now but shake the kid’s (yeah, kid. He couldn’t be more than 12...24 tops) hand and find out what national problems could be so all-fired important that they required his help.
Fortunately, the kid’s handshake was firm and direct, and he didn’t flounce about with false flattery and pithy greetings, which raised him slightly in Harris’ estimation.
“Now if you will excuse me, I’ll rejoin my entourage,” Senator Worth indicated a quartet of businessmen, two guards, and a single reporter. “I’m touring a few of the mines today. Any advice, sheriff?”
“Yeah, don’t cry when your shiny shoes get dirty.”
Worth smiled. “I think I can manage.”
“So, what are you, kid, a government agent?” Harris asked as the senator walked away.
"We're not affiliated with the government, sir. I work for an independent group tasked with testing and safeguarding private and sometimes governmental interests."
“Like Plinkertron agents?”
Ransom chuckled. “I assure you we are nothing like Plinkertron agents.”
Harris started walking. Ransom fell into step with him. “You’re not affiliated with the government, yet you sometimes safeguard government interests and you have a senator vouching for you. Care to explain?”
“We’re good at what we do.”
With a flick of his wrist Harris tossed him the empty canister. "I found this in the safe car. What does that look like to you?"
“Smoke bomb.”
“You ever see one like that before?"
When no response was forthcoming Harris pressed with, "Or how about an explosive squib able to destroy a fibercast jigiron heart lock but not damage anything else?”
Ransom remained silent.
Harris stopped walking and faced the kid. "You know who robbed that train?"
"I have agents on it."
Harris shook his head and gave a tight smile. Sure, a non-government agent tasked with safeguarding government interest just happened to show up immediately after a government shipment was stolen from a train, with no sign of force, the use of sparkly new technology, and with no one on the train being the wiser. "This is your jurisdiction now?"
"No sir. I’m here because we believe the Ralston Gang is on their way to Vergina City. We’ll need your help to apprehend them. We have agents in place who will in no way impede your authority, but we need your help."
The Ralston Gang was bad news. Thieving and murdering were the nice things the gang did. Led by Barrett Ralston, the gang started out as a bunch of Yew Nork City street thugs, they’d made their money through coercion, blackmail, and outright stealing. Recently, Ralston had decided to move into the interstellar Clopium trade and he was eagerly doing business with the rising Sang Frensighsco street gangs. The last thing Harris wanted was for Ralston and his crew taking up residency in his county. "What do you need?"
"One of my agents will contact you when they require cooperation, sheriff and I’ll keep you updated as to the gangs movements.”
Narrator:
Now, as Sheriff Owens watched the kid walk away, he wondered when in the hell he'd gone wrong. Maybe he should quit the law and follow in his pa's footsteps to become a gold miner. He could make his own schedule, and aside from the occasional claim-jumper, he wouldn't have had to deal with people.
By the time he reached the jail house he was pert sure that's just what he was gonna do. He'd head on up to his pa's claim and start sluicin, without ever havin to see another person again. Sadly, when he stepped through the jail house door, all his dreams of solitude came to an abrupt halt. You see, he'd forgotten one tiny fact that would follow him no matter what he’d chose to do or where he'd chose to live.
His sister.
"Mrs. Vivian Galban is a lovely young widow."
Harris sighed. He walked to his desk, taking off his hat as he went. He didn't bother to glare at his sister. It was a waste of energy. "Anna, I am not paying court to another of your friends," he told her again. Over the last two years he'd been forced to met most of her husband hungry friends and none of the meetings had gone well, at least not from his prospective.
Enjoying a pleasant conversation about the weather didn’t mean he wanted to up and marry a lady. Most of the women were nice enough, but they were all about the same. Pleasant and nice and eager to marry. He wasn’t opposed to marriage, but he didn’t relish the idea of a woman marrying him when any other man would do just as well. Call him an old fashion romantic, but he didn’t want to be married just for the sake of being married. If he was to marry he’d prefer it to be for love.
As usual, Annabeth ignored his statement. Normally, he'd be perfectly content about that little fact, because quite honestly the more she ignored him the less he had to listen to or do for her. However, he really, really needed her to listen to him right now because he really really didn't want to meet another of her friends who only wanted him because he had a shiny badge on his chest.
"I've arranged for you to meet with her. She's a delightful woman who bought the tearoom a few weeks back. You know the building. Next to Clancy’s Assay Office and Mrs. Conrad’s Guesthouse. She's expecting you tonight at six o’clock."
"This clinches it. I'm moving in with pa," Harris muttered.
Annabeth heard him and laughed outright, "Ha! You won't even go visit him. You'd go crazy up there with only pa for company. Can you see yourself wearing months old clothing and cooking your own food? You're too lazy and spoiled to care for yourself."
“I don’t go see pa because all the old man does is yell at me about my job.”
“He doesn’t think it suits you.”
“Being a miner does?”
“We’ve already established that it does not.”
"Anna–"
"Six o'clock, Harris. Don't be late." Anna wiggled a wave with her gloved hand, and merrily exited. He hated sisters.
Fifteen minutes later Deputy Angus Day, who’d spent the morning rounding up a handful of rowdy silver miners who didn’t want to leave Mrs. Maddie’s Pleasure Pen, entered and hung his hat on the wall.
Harris held up the paper from Annabeth. "My future wife."
Angus, a square, blond man of average height and mild personality, grimaced a little, “I told her not to do it.” Then he shrugged. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. I was there and Mrs. Galván wasn’t too keen on meeting you."
She wasn’t keen on meeting him? “She told Anna she didn't want to meet me?" That didn’t make sense. All of Anna’s unmarried friends wanted to meet him.
"Yep, just about. Said she had no interest in being courted by a man of the law. I think she only agreed because Anna kept pushing. You know how she does. Nice woman, Mrs. Galván, but way out of your league."
His back went up. “What does that mean?” Harris asked.
Angus shrugged his wide shoulders. “She’s, I don’t know, elegant. Classy. A wealthy city girl lost in the shrub brush desert. Trust me, Mrs. Galvan has no intentions of riding around on a buckboard making nice at the local cattle auction when it comes time for your reelection. She’s more likely to be guest of honor at the Mangly Mansion and find it lacking. I wouldn’t be surprised if she lives up on Billionaire’s Row. Her husband was probably a Kruvothian count or something. Or I guess with a name like Galvan probably Nerolian. Do Nerolians have counts? Anyway, the woman is elegant. She sure is pretty.”
Before Harris could gather his thoughts enough to take offense, the door swung opened and Beatrice Anders, one of the husband hungry every-woman women sashayed through, carrying a napkin covered basket. "Good afternoon, Sheriff."
He jumped to his feet. His pa might be a miner, but before he'd caught gold fever, his daddy been a bonafide city boy lawyer and was a stickler on how a gentleman treated a lady. Which meant Mrs. Galvan would be lucky to have a man like Harris, wealthy or not. "Good afternoon, Miss Beatrice. Is it Wednesday already? I do enjoy Wednesdays."
Beatrice giggled and put the glorious smelling basket on his desk. "Salusbery steak, today, Sheriff. With some of my mama's green bean salad, biscuits, and peach cobbler." She pulled towel covered plates out of the basket as she spoke the contents.
"Thank you, Miss Beatrice, I don’t know how I’d survive without kindness like yours."
"It’s my pleasure, Sheriff. Why what kind of lady would I be if I didn't see to the needs of our brave sheriff? I do hope we'll be seeing you at the fireman's pancake breakfast on Saturday."
"I'll be there."
She arranged each plate just so on the desk and said, "Did I hear correctly? The train was robbed this morning?"
"Yes, ma’am."
"Why that's terrible!” Her hand flew to her chest. “I'm so glad we have you protecting us from danger."
"I do what I can, ma'am."
Miss Beatrice gave him a sweet smile, “thank you for you dedicated service. Enjoy your meal, Sheriff.”
“Have good day, Miss Beatrice.”
With a swirl and sashay Beatrice and her empty basket were out the door, leaving Harris alone with a wonderful meal.
Angus, all but ignored by Miss Beatrice, chuckled. "I do what I can, ma'am," he mocked and took a large helping of of the cobbler.
“Hey,” Harris grumbled, “your wife brought you a basket of your own.”
Angus didn’t even look at the basket sitting on his desk. “You know the dessert in there isn’t as good as this one. Her pot roasts are magic but she can’t bake worth a damn.” He sat on the edge of Harris’ desk and continued, “the way I heard it you didn't do too much today but stand around looking befuddled.”
“Who told you that?”
“Ted. He said all y’all found was a bucket-fulla-nuthin’.”
Harris snorted and helped himself to salusbery steak. Angus ate a couple bites of Beatrice’s cobbler and said, “That’s the kind of woman you belong with, Harris.” He pointed his fork toward to door and then down to his cobbler. “A nice, sweet everyday kind of girl looking to be a sheriff’s wife. A wholesome woman looking for a decent man with whom to raise a few kids. Besides, I don’t think you can afford Mrs. Galvan. I bet her hat cost more than you make in a year.”
Harris frowned and shoved half a biscuit in his mouth to keep from telling Angus to shut up. True, any wife of his would have to economize, but that didn’t mean he was poor. He could afford to buy his wife a fancy hat. He made a decent living and if Mrs. Galvan couldn’t appreciate that, well, he was better off without her. He’d go meet her tonight and tell her straight off that he wasn’t interested.