Smitten by Sean S. Redmond

Author:Sean S. Redmond [Redmond, Sean S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

After a long, cumbersome trek through mountainous terrain, Violet eventually reached the outskirts of Bryers Crest. Thankfully, snow had stopped falling. She looked up and figured it was early afternoon, judging by the color of the clouds. Spiked posts loomed before her. A few years ago, Sheriff Cleavers had convinced everyone it’d be a good idea to build a wall around the town to ward off Indians. Now that wall reminded her of a tyrant abusing his authority. He’s a godless heathen! I’ll make him pay for what he’s done! She traipsed towards a gate. Along the way, she passed some gallows. Someone hollered from the lookout post above her.

“Come back for more?”

Violet ignored the taunt and continued onward.

The town of Bryers Crest consisted of several dingy storefronts lining a snowy road. At the road’s end stood an out-of-place, two-story courthouse painted white. Violet headed for it. As she walked, familiar faces appeared in windows. She felt their glares and picked up her pace. The sooner I get out of here, the better. To think, I once called these people ‘neighbors.’ Snowflakes began trickling down from the heavens as she trudged up the courthouse steps. She reached for the doorknob—

Tully threw open the courthouse’s door. “…Then fuck you!” He turned his head, noticed Violet, and his scowl transformed into a grin. “Oh. Hey there, Violet.”

Violet grabbed one of the rifles on her shoulder and aimed it at his stomach. “What’re you doing here—?”

Tully seized her rifle’s barrel, forcing it towards the ground. “Relax, I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Violet ripped her rifle out of Tully grasp. “After last night, how am I supposed to believe anything you say?”

“You still pissed ’bout that?”

“Arthur’s no murderer! You people had no right to take him.”

“Come on, Violet. Guy’s guilty as sin.”

“How do you know?”

“Sheriff said he’s got evidence.”

“Like what?”

“He didn’t ’laborate. Only said he’s gotta ’nuff to telegraph Judge Blackburn.”

Violet grunted. “Stay away from me, Tully, or there’ll be hell to pay.” She pushed past him.

Tully laughed. “Okay, but come find me when ya cool off so we can talk about the future.” He departed and shut the door behind him.

Like a speared bull in a china shop, Violet charged forward. She dumped her knapsack and plank atop a row of scuffed wooden chairs. Then she observed the judge’s bench. Its nameplate read Judge Marshall Blackburn. To her right was a staircase. Suddenly, she heard footsteps. She gripped her rifle tighter.

Sheriff Cleavers lumbered down the staircase, accompanied by Deputies Jordan and Blair, two young bucks with long, greasy blond hair. “When Blackburn gets here, make sure he has—” He stopped cold when he saw Violet’s reddened face and the rifle in her hands. A smile crept across his lips. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Violet barely resisted the urge to blow his head off. “You know there’s nothing pleasant ’bout why I’m here.”

Sheriff Cleavers glanced at the deputies. “Give me a moment, boys.”

“Yes, sir.” They climbed back upstairs.

Sheriff Cleavers descended the rest of the staircase.

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