timbers and eyed me. “We about done? I need to get back to these ties.”
“Almost. How did you hear about the murder?”
“Alleged murder. Marshal said to make sure I didn’t call it something it wasn’t.” Deputy Garrett staked his fists on his hips, arched his back, and stretched. “I think one of the barmaids from the saloon came running over yelling about someone being shot. Stuff like that happens all the time, of course. No big deal. Just part of the drill. But we have to pretend like it matters, so I lit out for the barn.”
“You and the marshal?”
“Right. Me and Marshal Buckleberry. I checked the whole first level and didn’t see anything. Went into the loft. Nothing. Wandered outside to where you folks were, and the marshal tells me to check again, I guess because you seemed prettycertain there was a body. I hunted all around and found that slug, but that was all.”
“The one you pulled from the wall.”
“Marshal was upset about that. Said I should’ve left it for him. But like I said, we don’t get too many serious crimes in Deadwood. Certainly nothing like a murder. I just figured someone had been taking target practice up there.”
“Who’d want to see Billy dead?”
“Hooo-eee, that’s a good one.” He massaged the back of his neck with his hand and let his eyes sweep the area around us. “Who’d want Bill dead? Well now, let’s see. I guess if I had to say, it’d be …”
But his voice trailed off.
He kept his gaze aimed in my general direction, but his eyes shifted slightly as if he were looking past me. Moving his hand slowly he gripped the shovel handle resting against his hip and lifted it, aiming the blade at my feet. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing until I heard the rattler’s beaded husk quivering.
I froze. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the snake slither past my foot. Four feet. Maybe longer, though I couldn’t be sure because it had begun to coil itself into a knot.
“Don’t move, not even an inch. They can sense a change in body temperature. Right now being scared is the absolute wrong reaction.”
As if I have another choice
.
“You twitch, even a little, and—”
He jabbed the shovel at my legs, striking the dusty ground and flicking his wrist in one swift motion. His thrust of the shovel sent the snake catapulting backwards. It landed witha “whump” and went slithering off under a pile of jumbled timbers.
“Why didn’t you kill it?”
“Snakes got a right to live same as us.” Garrett put his gloves back on, shouldered the shovel, and trudged up the railbed, stopping next to the tracks. “You were asking about who’d benefit from Bill’s death. If I had to guess, I’d say probably that old man at the guardhouse.”
“Wyatt Earp? You kidding me? That’s guy’s a dinosaur.”
Garrett scooped a shovel full of gravel from beneath an old timber and tossed it aside. Scoop and toss, scoop and toss, until he’d burrowed a good size trough under the rails. Dropping the shovel, he clamped two gloved hands on the beam and pulled it free.
“Getting old doesn’t make a man mellow. Some folks only get meaner. He doesn’t have much range as an actor, Earp doesn’t. But don’t get fooled by that grandfatherly act. Oh he’s a charmer, that one is. That’s how come the marshal keeps him around. Kids like listening to his stories. He’s got all sorts of tales about this place. Some of them are true. But I know for a fact that a few months back Billy caught Earp poking around an abandoned mine. Why, I don’t know. Nothing up there except more of these.” I followed his gaze and saw another snake slither over rocks and disappear into the brush. “Wouldn’t catch me messing around up there in that mine, no sir.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant. Garrett didn’t strike me as the kind of man who scared easily, so I asked him if it was because of the snakes.
He responded with a look of mock surprise. “Rattlers don’tbother
“Almost. How did you hear about the murder?”
“Alleged murder. Marshal said to make sure I didn’t call it something it wasn’t.” Deputy Garrett staked his fists on his hips, arched his back, and stretched. “I think one of the barmaids from the saloon came running over yelling about someone being shot. Stuff like that happens all the time, of course. No big deal. Just part of the drill. But we have to pretend like it matters, so I lit out for the barn.”
“You and the marshal?”
“Right. Me and Marshal Buckleberry. I checked the whole first level and didn’t see anything. Went into the loft. Nothing. Wandered outside to where you folks were, and the marshal tells me to check again, I guess because you seemed prettycertain there was a body. I hunted all around and found that slug, but that was all.”
“The one you pulled from the wall.”
“Marshal was upset about that. Said I should’ve left it for him. But like I said, we don’t get too many serious crimes in Deadwood. Certainly nothing like a murder. I just figured someone had been taking target practice up there.”
“Who’d want to see Billy dead?”
“Hooo-eee, that’s a good one.” He massaged the back of his neck with his hand and let his eyes sweep the area around us. “Who’d want Bill dead? Well now, let’s see. I guess if I had to say, it’d be …”
But his voice trailed off.
He kept his gaze aimed in my general direction, but his eyes shifted slightly as if he were looking past me. Moving his hand slowly he gripped the shovel handle resting against his hip and lifted it, aiming the blade at my feet. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing until I heard the rattler’s beaded husk quivering.
I froze. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the snake slither past my foot. Four feet. Maybe longer, though I couldn’t be sure because it had begun to coil itself into a knot.
“Don’t move, not even an inch. They can sense a change in body temperature. Right now being scared is the absolute wrong reaction.”
As if I have another choice
.
“You twitch, even a little, and—”
He jabbed the shovel at my legs, striking the dusty ground and flicking his wrist in one swift motion. His thrust of the shovel sent the snake catapulting backwards. It landed witha “whump” and went slithering off under a pile of jumbled timbers.
“Why didn’t you kill it?”
“Snakes got a right to live same as us.” Garrett put his gloves back on, shouldered the shovel, and trudged up the railbed, stopping next to the tracks. “You were asking about who’d benefit from Bill’s death. If I had to guess, I’d say probably that old man at the guardhouse.”
“Wyatt Earp? You kidding me? That’s guy’s a dinosaur.”
Garrett scooped a shovel full of gravel from beneath an old timber and tossed it aside. Scoop and toss, scoop and toss, until he’d burrowed a good size trough under the rails. Dropping the shovel, he clamped two gloved hands on the beam and pulled it free.
“Getting old doesn’t make a man mellow. Some folks only get meaner. He doesn’t have much range as an actor, Earp doesn’t. But don’t get fooled by that grandfatherly act. Oh he’s a charmer, that one is. That’s how come the marshal keeps him around. Kids like listening to his stories. He’s got all sorts of tales about this place. Some of them are true. But I know for a fact that a few months back Billy caught Earp poking around an abandoned mine. Why, I don’t know. Nothing up there except more of these.” I followed his gaze and saw another snake slither over rocks and disappear into the brush. “Wouldn’t catch me messing around up there in that mine, no sir.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant. Garrett didn’t strike me as the kind of man who scared easily, so I asked him if it was because of the snakes.
He responded with a look of mock surprise. “Rattlers don’tbother
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