Leaning on a chair inside a reasonably silent room was an angular faced man. Greasy brown hair stuck out from a black leather hat that extended far from his brow region.

  Trevor sighed as he skimmed through the complaints he had gathered from this week.

  “ Theft, Assault, domestic abuse, robbery “ He mumbled to himself as he one by one sorted the large pile of unorganized papers into one of many other stacks. If anyone other than himself were t.o look at the sea of papers, they would most certainly think it was all a chaotic mess

  A deep sense of frustration had come over him since he first began working as a deputy. There was no way their little department could ever hope to bring justice to all these people – and as time continued, dread slowly replaced his frustrations. Soon he wouldn't look forward to work, knowing that he would face an impossible task – their combined efforts only making a dent into the crime in Flint.

  The western part of the nation was an unregulated near lawless place where every town financed their own police force. It was only due to some of the founding families who had been here for over hundreds of years that they were able to sustain themselves.

  Surprisingly the rise in crime had been a sudden and not gradual change. He had tried to pinpoint it, but only remembered the first major incident taking place a couple months ago. The previous deputy had died, and now so had John – who had been a mentor to him and Michael.

  Frowning, Trevor shook his head, as if to get rid of all his worries. Burying his face in the paperwork he grabbed his pen and went over one of the papers.

  “Thief, stolen horse…”

  Just as he had begun reading from another paper, a loud rang sounded from the reception. Trevor rolled his eyes, sighing, he stared through one of the two large windows that allowed him to watch the jail from within his office. The morning presented itself as the only time where he could do his work without the relentless hollering of the inmates, and frankly the time he tried to get most of his work done.

  Both windows had been placed so that the officer inside could watch the inmates from within. Seeing that all of the occupants still were either asleep or facing the other way, presumably pleasuring themselves, he felt it was safe to leave. Trevor shook his head in disgust as he rose up.

  The jail had been built to house a maximum of 10 people, five on each side. The opposing cells were wide enough that six men could stand shoulder to shoulder between them.

  As Trevor walked down the aisle, one of the inhabitants woke up. They greeted him with their usual unpleasant expression

  “ Look who's finally doing some work?” His expression was a mixture of anger and shame.

  Trevor sighed as he once again grabbed his keys as he reached the front office door. The two door system ensured that none of them escaped, even if they somehow miraculously managed to break out of the iron bars. After tediously unlocking and locking the door, he was faced with a large counter that spanned the entire width of the rectangular property. It marked the front office section.

  A bunch of chairs had been placed across the waiting area walls for the older patrons. If there were a lot of people, they organized themselves into ques.

  “ Doing alright?” Trevor heard a familiarly annoying voice say, as he quickly snapped back from his tired state.

  “What is he doing here Bill” Trevor said confused, as he glanced at the black clothed man next to the sheriff

  “Your boss is paying me to bring a little order to this town” Joe said nonchalantly, spitting onto the already dirty wooden planque floor.

  Trevor stared dumbfoundedly at Bill

  “Finally gone senile old man?”

  “ You want this killer to enforce the law?”

  Joe looked at Trevor without breaking a sweat, causing the latter to step up to him, fists clenched.

  Bill slowly stepped in between the two men “ You ladies done?”

  “ The citizens of flint are in danger. As you know, we recently lost a cornerstone of the community in John.”

  “ Until i can find a worthy replacement , i need someone capable that i can trust riding with me”

  “ I understand but-”

  “ Its my decision to make as the town sheriff Trevor. Im doing what i think is necessary for the town”

  Trevor stood frozen for a moment, staring at Bill. The sheriff’s words lingered in the air, heavy with finality. Trevor opened his mouth as if to protest again but stopped himself. He could feel Joe’s cold gaze fixed on him, daring him to escalate.

  Scoffing, he shook his head. “Fine,” stepping back, crossing his arms. “But don’t expect me to babysit him.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Joe smirked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned casually against the counter. “Wouldn’t dream of it – deputy. Just stay out of my way.”

  The tension hung thick as Trevor turned his back on the two men and walked briskly toward the door leading to the jail’s main office. As he grabbed the handle, he paused and shot a final glare over his shoulder. “If he screws this up, Bill, it’s on you.”

  Bill exhaled through his nose, clearly tired of the argument. “Noted. Now get back to work, Trevor. Those papers aren’t going to sort themselves.”

  Trevor slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Bill and Joe alone in the quiet front office. The sheriff scratched the back of his head, glancing sideways at his new recruit.

  “You’re not exactly making friends, are you?” Bill muttered.

  Joe shrugged, tipping his hat back slightly. “Not here to make friends. Just to do the job.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Bill said dryly, reaching for a cup of lukewarm coffee on the counter. “Let’s hope you stick to it. You’ve got a lot of eyes on you already.”

  Joe chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. “Let ‘em watch.”

  Bill studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge the man’s sincerity. After a long silence, he drained the rest of his coffee and set the cup down with a clink. “We’ll get you sworn in tomorrow morning. For now, you can bunk in the backroom. It’s not much, but it’s better than the alternatives.”

  “Appreciate it,” Joe said, though his tone suggested otherwise. He straightened up, his coat shifting slightly to reveal the twin revolvers at his hips. “Anything else?”

  Bill hesitated, rubbing his chin. “Yeah. One thing.” His voice grew quieter, almost reluctant. “This isn’t just about chasing down troublemakers, Joe. Flint needs more than a quick draw. It needs someone the people can rely on.”

  Joe’s expression didn’t change

  “Understood.”

  “Good.”

  Bill clapped him on the shoulder as he gave him a key “Get some rest, and some clean clothes, We’ll head to John's funeral this afternoon. There is a spare room once you walk through the office.”

  Nodding solemnly, he left the pair, turning towards the aisle.

  Unlocking the first door, Joe walked down the narrow hallway toward the backroom, his boots echoing against the worn wooden floor. As he passed the jail cells, the men inside watched him with a mix of fear and curiosity. One of them, a wiry man who had followed Carl, called out from behind the bars.

  “Hey, Reaper! You taking’ up law now? Hell’s frozen over, boys!”

  High pitched laughter rang out from several men as they all looked at Joe. but Joe didn’t so much as glance in their direction. He pushed open the door to the office stepped inside, and let it creak shut behind him.

  The room was small and sparsely furnished. 3 tables were laid across the room. Sitting down on one of the chairs, Joe withdrew Carls revolver from his left holster and turned it over in his hand. Examining it he could tell someone with skill had crafted it. Straight barell, good grip and perfectly fitting components, allowing no large gaps for dirt to enter. He punched out the chamber, two empty and four full. Inserting two new rounds he spinned the chamber then put it back into his holster.

  For a moment, Joe thought about the watch he’d left behind on Carl’s body—the same kind he used to wear. He could still picture it, ticking away the seconds as if mocking him.

  “Damn fool,” he muttered under his breath, shoving the memory aside.

  Joe leaned back onto the chair as he stared up towards the ceiling. The muffled sounds of the inmates faded into the background as he closed his eyes

  “ Why the hell am i doing this”

  Meanwhile, in the front office, Trevor stood by the window, watching the empty streets of Flint bathed in the fading light of the afternoon sun. He clenched his fists, his jaw tight as Bill came up behind him.

  “You’re not happy about this,” Bill said plainly.

  Trevor didn’t turn around. “Happy? No, Bill. I’m not happy. I don’t trust him. And I don’t think you do either.”

  Bill sighed, leaning on the counter. “ I trust his skills, and right now, that’s what we need. Flint’s hanging by a thread, Trevor. If the Outlaws come back—we’re gonna need someone like Joe.”

  Trevor shook his head, the frustration evident in his voice. “I just hope you’re right.”

  “I am,” Bill said, squeezing his shoulder slightly

  Trevor nodded reluctantly, watching as Bill walked away. The young deputy remained by the window for a while longer, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders.

  *

  A single wail could be heard as a crowd stood silently around a coffin . An old balding man wearing nothing but robes and a thick mustache put his hand onto the wood as he held his bible with the other arm.

  “Today we grief John Smith, Father of one, husband and protector of Flint for 30 years”

  The high pitched wailing continued as the priest looked onto the small gathering.

  “ He sacrificed himself, fighting the bad men who had come to do our small town harm. The lord harbors a special place for those who die protecting the ones they love” Then the priest looked onto the small boy who had tears running down his cheeks.

  “Joseph, you must now become the man in your household, and protect your mother. In the name of the father, the son and the heavenly spirit, I bless you!” the older man said as he closed the bible he held and closed his eyes. The wailing stopped as the small boy wiped his tears, he sniffled as he clutched his mothers hand.

  Two younger men lifted the coffin as they moved it towards the dug out hole. Joe watched the scene unfold from afar, while Bill stood amongst the townsfolk.

  The sun had begun to set when people slowly moved away from the grave until only Bill and the family were left.

  Bill held his hat as he stared at the grave. Beside him stood a woman clad in all dark as see through linen covered her face

  “Im sorry Amanda”

  “I am as well sheriff” She said slowly “ But I don't blame you for this. This was the work of those bad men”

  Bill stared intently at the grave before relaxing his gaze and facing Amanda,

  “The men who did this are gone, I made sure of that”

  Suddenly the little boy released the grip from his mother and went over to Bill.

  “Sheriff, why did you not save my father?”

  Bill wrinkled his lips as he looked away for a split second

  “ Hey Joseph, don’t ask tha-”

  “He was shot in the heart, kid, nothing he could do” Joe said, standing up from the side of the church he had leaned on. Walking up towards Bill and the family he tipped his hat before the grave.

  “From what I’ve been told, he was a good man”

  The boys eyes lit up as he recognized Joe

  “ Mister! You came, like you said”

  Joe scoffed “ Your word is bond kid, remember that.”

  Bill looked surprised as he saw the two intere?act

  “ What he said is true Joseph, your father could not have been saved”

  The boy turned to face bill, Eyes flowing with ambition

  “ I want to become a law man!” he beamed

  Amanda pulled the boy as she looked tiredly at Bill “ Im sorry sheriff, the boy is young”

  “ Come on now Joseph, Time to head home” she said, dragging the boy by his arm. Joseph followed protestingly, casting a look backwards towards Joe and Bill. His eyebrows were raised, as he smiled so wide.

  “ The kid has spirit” Joe said, chuckling slightly, as he looked onto Bill who let a small smirk escape.

  “Reminds me of his old man”

  Bill went over to the church where he had placed a small satchel. He picked it up, withdrawing a bottle filled with golden brown liquor

  “ His favourite, Rum from the island of Cuba”

  Joe eyed the bottle “ Must have cost a hefty sum”

  “I’ll miss his bickering” Bill said as he put the bottle before the cross that rose from the ground

  “I’ll miss a whole lot”

  Joe saw how Bill fought to restrain his tears

  ” I’ll head into town, gotta make sure samson has a roof over his head – Until later Sheriff”

  Tipping his hat Joe walked away from Bill. Exiting the perimeter of the graveyard he sighed as he tried to not hear the sniffles coming from behind him.