Two Durks? Not possible.
The Other One
“I tell you, sheriff; that no-good sidewinder’s here!”
Sheriff Milford North stared at his deputy.
“Who are you yammering about?” he asked Durk Kahlen.
“The guy told you about before you gave me this job!”
“Why would he show up here?”
“I don’t know I think he’s follerin’ me, trying to make trouble!”
“It’s just a coincidence,” the sheriff soothed and went off to make his rounds of the town.
Spurs jingling, Sheriff North strolled around. As he passed the saloon, the doors burst open and two men came flying through them, grappling and punching like gangbusters. As they were rolling on the ground, the sheriff stepped into the melee and grabbed each one by the collar, using two hands.
“What’s goin’ on here!” he roared.
In his right hand, was young Luke Aames, in his left was a man who looked just like his deputy. He released young Luke and told him to go home and sleep it off. Then he turned to the Durk look-alike.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Durk Kahlen, if it’s any of your business!”
Latching on to the imposter with both fists, the sheriff marched him straight down to jail. Without a word, he threw him in a cell and locked it.
“Let me out! Cain’t a man have a little disagreement without gettin’ locked up?”
The sheriff sat in the chair behind his desk and tilted back on the two back legs.
“Sure, they can. Iffen they ain’t Durk Kahlen. My deputy don’t drink nor brawl. It’s in his contract with me and the town.
“He kept insistin’ someone who resembled him had taken his good name and was abusin’ it, but I was doubtful till I seen you. Judge’s here tomorra, I’m sure there’s some law agin that kinda stealin’.”