drink.”
The three men started down the boardwalk, sooty coats slung over their shoulders. After a few paces, Gentry cast a glance back, only it wasn’t the sheriff he looked at. Instead, his icy gaze fell on Sareth. Then the trio stepped through a pair of swinging doors, vanishing into the dimness of a saloon.
“Are you folks all right?”
The sheriff was eyeing them, although not with an air of suspicion like Gentry and his cronies. Instead, his watery eyes were curious.
“We’re fine,” Travis said, letting out a breath of relief. “Thanks for your help, Sheriff.”
“No problem, mister. Men like Lionel Gentry want to think they’re in charge here in Castle City.” He blew a breath through his mustache. “I’m afraid it’s my job to keep reminding them otherwise.”
Durge nodded. “A sheriff is a kind of knight, then.”
Tanner tipped up the brim of his hat. “You haven’t been reading dime novels, have you, mister? If so, don’t believe a thing you’ve seen in them. There isn’t anything romantic about being a sheriff in the West. It’s a dull and dirty job, and not one I asked for.”
“Then why are you sheriff?” Lirith asked.
Tanner laughed. “That’s a story in itself, ma’am. Although nothing so entertaining as you’ll read in one of your pal’s dime novels.”
Sareth frowned. “What are these ‘dime novels’ you keep speaking of?”
“Please forgive my friends,” Travis said hastily. “We’re not from around here.”
Tanner let out a whistle. “That’s for sure. Castle City’s gotten too big for me to know everyone in town, but I could tell in a second you’re not locals. There’s something different about all of you, though I can’t quite put my finger on it. What parts do you hail from?”
“Back East,” Travis said, hoping that was both vague and specific enough.
“You got a place to stay in town?”
The four were silent.
“Thought as much,” Tanner said. “Well, you won’t find anyplace to stay here on Elk Street.” He cast a sidelong glance at Lirith. “But there’s a boardinghouse two blocks over, on Grant Street, called the Bluebell. I know the woman who runs it. She’s a good gal, despite what some folks might say. Tell her I sent you, and she’ll fix you up with a couple of rooms.”
Travis gave him a grateful smile. How old was the sheriff? It was hard to tell. He didn’t look any older than Travis; all the same, there was an air of weariness about him, frayed at the edges just like his suit.
Lirith stepped forward and took the sheriff’s right hand, pressing it between her own. “Thank you,” she said, gazing at him with dark eyes.
“You’re welcome, ma’am. Now go on over to the Bluebell, and get yourself off of this dusty street.”
Gentle as the words were, their intent was clear: Eyes still watched, and the sheriff wanted this show over. He tipped his hat, and the four headed down the boardwalk, which in moments was crowded once more.
They didn’t speak until they reached Grant Street. It was narrower than Elk Street, and not a fraction as crowded, although it was just as dusty.
“That was close,” Travis said with a sigh.
“I have met men such as this Gentry before,” Durge said in his rumbling voice. “They are bored and dangerous, and they are not merely simple brigands. We should take care not to run into him again, else I will have to unwrap my sword.”
Travis tried to imagine the public reaction to Durge wielding his Embarran greatsword in the middle of Elk Street. “Let’s stick to the not-running-into-them-again option.”
“Why did that one hate me so much?” Sareth said, shaking his head. “Was it really because of my leg?”
Travis laid a hand on the Mournish man’s shoulder. “Men like that don’t need a reason, Sareth. They just pick someone out of a crowd and decide that’s someone they don’t like, and nothing will change their minds.”
Sareth nodded, but his expression remained
The three men started down the boardwalk, sooty coats slung over their shoulders. After a few paces, Gentry cast a glance back, only it wasn’t the sheriff he looked at. Instead, his icy gaze fell on Sareth. Then the trio stepped through a pair of swinging doors, vanishing into the dimness of a saloon.
“Are you folks all right?”
The sheriff was eyeing them, although not with an air of suspicion like Gentry and his cronies. Instead, his watery eyes were curious.
“We’re fine,” Travis said, letting out a breath of relief. “Thanks for your help, Sheriff.”
“No problem, mister. Men like Lionel Gentry want to think they’re in charge here in Castle City.” He blew a breath through his mustache. “I’m afraid it’s my job to keep reminding them otherwise.”
Durge nodded. “A sheriff is a kind of knight, then.”
Tanner tipped up the brim of his hat. “You haven’t been reading dime novels, have you, mister? If so, don’t believe a thing you’ve seen in them. There isn’t anything romantic about being a sheriff in the West. It’s a dull and dirty job, and not one I asked for.”
“Then why are you sheriff?” Lirith asked.
Tanner laughed. “That’s a story in itself, ma’am. Although nothing so entertaining as you’ll read in one of your pal’s dime novels.”
Sareth frowned. “What are these ‘dime novels’ you keep speaking of?”
“Please forgive my friends,” Travis said hastily. “We’re not from around here.”
Tanner let out a whistle. “That’s for sure. Castle City’s gotten too big for me to know everyone in town, but I could tell in a second you’re not locals. There’s something different about all of you, though I can’t quite put my finger on it. What parts do you hail from?”
“Back East,” Travis said, hoping that was both vague and specific enough.
“You got a place to stay in town?”
The four were silent.
“Thought as much,” Tanner said. “Well, you won’t find anyplace to stay here on Elk Street.” He cast a sidelong glance at Lirith. “But there’s a boardinghouse two blocks over, on Grant Street, called the Bluebell. I know the woman who runs it. She’s a good gal, despite what some folks might say. Tell her I sent you, and she’ll fix you up with a couple of rooms.”
Travis gave him a grateful smile. How old was the sheriff? It was hard to tell. He didn’t look any older than Travis; all the same, there was an air of weariness about him, frayed at the edges just like his suit.
Lirith stepped forward and took the sheriff’s right hand, pressing it between her own. “Thank you,” she said, gazing at him with dark eyes.
“You’re welcome, ma’am. Now go on over to the Bluebell, and get yourself off of this dusty street.”
Gentle as the words were, their intent was clear: Eyes still watched, and the sheriff wanted this show over. He tipped his hat, and the four headed down the boardwalk, which in moments was crowded once more.
They didn’t speak until they reached Grant Street. It was narrower than Elk Street, and not a fraction as crowded, although it was just as dusty.
“That was close,” Travis said with a sigh.
“I have met men such as this Gentry before,” Durge said in his rumbling voice. “They are bored and dangerous, and they are not merely simple brigands. We should take care not to run into him again, else I will have to unwrap my sword.”
Travis tried to imagine the public reaction to Durge wielding his Embarran greatsword in the middle of Elk Street. “Let’s stick to the not-running-into-them-again option.”
“Why did that one hate me so much?” Sareth said, shaking his head. “Was it really because of my leg?”
Travis laid a hand on the Mournish man’s shoulder. “Men like that don’t need a reason, Sareth. They just pick someone out of a crowd and decide that’s someone they don’t like, and nothing will change their minds.”
Sareth nodded, but his expression remained
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