Dying Grass Moon by Andrea Jacka

Author:Andrea Jacka [Jacka, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

Marshal Rafael Cooper: Hollow Oak Falls, Idaho Territory.

Raff clapped eyes on the sheriff’s office in Hollow Oak Falls, cut across the street and set the buckskin at the rack. Contrary to his approach in Fancy he figured it wise to check in here as a marshal, letting them know he’d arrived in this town. If an untoward . . . event . . . occurred during his stay his defense could say this showed he’d put his cards on the table.

About to dismount, he snagged on a brawny figure lolling on a chair beside the entrance to the building which, like his office in Melancholy, saw double duty as jailhouse. Recognizing the man’s Stetson, its crown trimmed with beaver fur, he cussed beneath his breath, and decided against getting off his horse. His hope to talk with a deputy and avoid the man under the beaver-trimmed hat flew west. His gelding sensed his mood change and skittered sideways. Raff calmed him with low reassurances and a rub of the horse’s wither.

“Rafael Cooper.” The man rose and came at a lazy beat to the edge of the boardwalk. He ran a connoisseur’s eye over the buckskin. “Got a nice piece of horseflesh there. Did you steal him, too?”

“Could say it’s good seein’ you, Kent, but Mama taught me not to lie. And I told you, I didn’t steal—”

“It’s Sheriff Kent to you, Cooper.”

“And it’s Marshal Cooper to you, Kent.”

“Heard you took a pay cut and you’re now town marshal of a place the size of a mustard seed. A one-shack boil with a name like Sadness. Or is it Wretched? Sorrowful?”

Raff waited on Kent to finish his barbed jesting.

Raff had been a U.S. Marshal, where he mostly sat at a desk, but that taskwork quickly lost its shine; he wanted to be out amongst troublemakers, lawbreakers, and scalawags. When he tracked Hennessey to Idaho Territory his supporters did not want him to leave for the wilds, but in the end they let him go to Melancholy where he became town marshal. Having depended on Raff seeing the error of his ways—bait dangled to lure him back to civilization was rejected—they finally conceded defeat, filled in the paperwork, and he was cross sworn as a Deputy U.S. Marshal. Being town marshal gave him a little more standing, but titles weren’t important to him, never had been unless he was proving a point.

“Won this office by the book.” Kent dropped his smirk and false cheerfulness. “Didn’t rely on friendships to get ahead. What are you doing in Hollow Oak?”

“I’m lookin’ for a fella travelin’ with a lady. Odds are they’re makin’ for Nevada.”

“What they do?”

“Nothin’ much. Just wanna chat.”

“Quite the ride for a chat.” Kent rearranged a wad of tobacco jammed under his lip. A stream of brown juice squirted from between stained teeth and landed by the buckskin’s front hooves. “What do you want from me?”

“Checkin’ if they’ve been here last coupla days. I see there’s lots of comin’ and goin’ here, but they stand out. He’s lame, has a brace on his leg.

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