“I’m here on the governor’s orders. Not yours,” Joel said.
“He can order what he will, but I’ve not seen him around these parts. Not since the Battle of Hartville, but we don’t talk about those days, do we? He’s a loyal American now.”
The boards beneath Joel’s feet creaked. He’d been called here because the local politicians were too crooked to be trusted. No longer did the state have any faith that they would be impartial. In fact, according to his briefing, it was assumed in most cases that the local magistrates were involved in the illegal activity. Looking over the self-important man before him, he could easily believe it. Still, he had to proceed cautiously.
Joel stepped away. He turned and inspected the room—two cells, each with a lone cot. Dust had settled over the padlocks. Joel took one in his hand and rubbed until true black iron shone beneath his thumb.
“This cell hasn’t seen much use lately.” The padlock clanged against the iron bars as he released it. “Guess y’all don’t have a crime problem after all.”
“Not one that’d warrant a stranger coming in, that’s for certain. We can take care of our own.”
Joel nodded. “Then Governor Marmaduke was mistaken. I won’t take any more of your time. If you’ll direct me to the telegraph office, I’ll let him know that you refused my service, and then I’ll get out of here.” And back to Texas, where people are sane, he wanted to add. If only going back to Texas were an option.
Mayor Walters wrinkled his nose. “You don’t fool me, Deputy Puckett. That’s a nice attempt at forcing my hand, but I didn’t survive the last twenty years here without recognizing an ambush when I see one. No, you won’t give the governor the chance to send in troops. One lawman is bad enough, but I think we’ll be able to handle you.” He pulled on a desk drawer. It stuck halfway open, then with a jerk he forced it the rest of the way. A brass ring caught the sunlight as he tossed a set of keys to Joel.
Joel caught the keys and dropped them into his vest pocket without breaking eye contact with the smug man. “That’s my office. Now how about my transportation?”
The mayor smiled, ginger whiskers spreading like a curtain. “Your horse is outside.”
Joel nodded again. If God had wanted him to walk everywhere, He wouldn’t have invented horses. Joel dropped his hat on his head and strode outside, the mayor hot on his heels. The black horse caught the sunlight and glistened. Obviously well groomed and well fed, it tossed its head as if it appreciated Joel as much as he appreciated it.
The diminutive Walters reached above his head and caught the saddle horn. He kicked his short leg off the hitching post to get one foot in the stirrup—the wrong foot. The black horse shook its head. Joel had to agree with the horse. This man needed to let it be.
“What are you doing?” Joel tried to steady the pacing horse before it threw the mayor off.
The mayor’s face was slicked with sweat. Joel doubted he’d ever been on this horse before, or quite possibly any horse, but he managed to hold on until he got the correct foot in the stirrup. Then with a mighty effort he pulled himself into the saddle.
Joel had already untied the reins and reluctantly placed them in the mayor’s outstretched hand. “Where are you going with my horse?”
The mayor couldn’t answer immediately, not huffing as he was to catch his breath. He smiled between each wheeze. “This isn’t your horse. That one is.”
Joel looked around, but he didn’t see another animal in sight—besides the pony.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said. “That ain’t right.”
“My regrets.” The mayor yanked on the reins. The black horse didn’t budge.
“Look here.” Joel went to the pony and, standing flat-footed, threw his leg over its side. “This horse isn’t big enough for me.” He crammed his feet into the stirrups. “My knees are in the way.”
Jabbing his horse with his heels, the mayor finally got it to move. “What a pity. Gonna be hard keeping up with those Bald Knobbers, ain’t it?”
Joel let his legs drop to the sides, and his toes brushed the ground as he watched Mayor Walters ride away. On this horse, he’d be a laughingstock.
Back in Texas, the outlaws feared Joel and the townspeople respected him. The only thing he ever caught grief over was his refusal to court the fine daughters of Garber, and that was his undoing.