Law and Order

Electing the new Sheriff is serious business

"You're going to regret this..."

The man lay in the dust, the star on his chest pierced by a bullet.

Hannaford "Sticky" Stickton stood over him in the merciless sun. "I don't think I will, tin-badge. You ain't the first crooked lawman I put down; you won't be the last."

The law\man died without another word, staring into the hard Wyoming sky. Sticky looked around at the boardwalks lined with people.

"Where's the sheriff?" he called to them. One man stepped into the dirt, calm and erect.

"I'm the sheriff, now. Because someone has to be."

Sticky walked toward the man, who put his hand on his gun. Sticky slowly raised both hands. He called out to the crowd.

"Do you accept your new sheriff?" The townsfolk answered with a unanimous "Aye!"

Sticky stopped and looked at the other man. "What's your name, Sheriff?"

He took his time answering. "I think Sheriff will do just fine, Mr. Stickton. Let your hands down."

Sticky lowered his hands, crossing them at his belt buckle.

"You done us a service," the sheriff said. "Old Wheeling was a crooked son of a bitch." He paused. "But your work's done now, and as the new Sheriff, I'm telling you to leave town now. No need for lingering gunfighters."

It was always this way. "Reckon that's fair."

"Reward money's in your saddlebag; gunman shouldn't work for free."

Sticky looked at the new sheriff a moment. "You seem like a clean man, Sheriff. Good temper for a lawman."

The sheriff tipped his hat slightly. Sticky tipped his in return, mounted, and trotted slowly out of town. These places are all the same, he thought. Six months, I'll be back for the same damn showdown.

On his way out, he made a mental note where the undertaker's was.



(Word Count: 300)