Chapter 11

A few days later, I got a package from the governors office. Among other things, it contained a shiny new sheriff's badge and a fancy paper saying that I was, indeed, the sheriff of Chaves County, NMT, by appointment from the governor. Included in the papers was a statement that I reported directly to the governor and no one else. There was also the name of a District Attorney I was supposed to cooperate with and the name of a District Judge who was to handle the court cases I was involved in. Fine, now, at last, I knew who the bigwigs were. Oops, I forgot, I am now a bigwig, too. Ha!

There was also some stuff about my operating budget, who I should contact for expense money, and necessities like that. It turned out to hold a lot of useful information; I was going to have to read it, one of these days. In the meantime, I was going to hire Jane as my confidential secretary, so she could read it and tell me the important parts. See, I was already learning how to be a bigwig!

In the same stack of mail was a letter from Joe Alfred with a list of men who were being nominated as deputy sheriffs. Now, there was something I was interested in! I sat down and studied the list, right then. I actually recognized two of the names, so this wasn't going to be as hard as I had feared. I was going to visit every one of these gentlemen in the next few months to see if they really were the type of men I wanted on my staff. The budget allowed me 10 deputies and there were 8 names on the list. I already had 1 deputy, Sam, so I had to find 9 more. I'd check out these 8, first.

There was some other official stuff, including a letter from the DA welcoming me to law enforcement and saying he'd have a clerk start processing the paperwork for the two bandits I had arrested. The other stuff looked trivial, so I picked up the whole mess and took it with me as I went to find Jane and hire her on the spot. Besides, it would give me an excuse to hold Mary Jane!

Two days later, I went to Hixville to see Sol and check on the two prisoners I had dumped on him. I invited Sam to come along with me. I offered to buy him a beer after we visited Sol. Sol wasn't in the office, so I looked in on the two ladies who were locked up in one of his cells. As soon as I stuck my head in the door, they recognized me, and both let off a string of cuss words like I never thought I'd ever hear come out of a woman's mouth. I swear to Goshen, my ears started to burn. I figured that if they had the strength and breath to swear at me like that, they must be in pretty good physical shape, so I tipped my hat and bid them good day.

Sam and I went to visit Walt Smith, the bartender and my much senior partner in the best saloon in town (no, it's not the only saloon in town). "Howdy, Walt, sorry its been so long since I last dropped in. Sam an' I would like a beer." I dropped a coin on the bar. Being Walt's partner doesn't get me any free beer.

"Howdy, Bill. I hear ya've come up in the world since I last seen ya. It's kinda nice ta have the sheriff as my partner. It should he'p ta keep the peace in here on Sat'day night."

"Now, come on, Walt. I know that ya don't have a problem with keepin' the peace, what with Sol ta look after ya."

"Yeah, that's the truth. Say, what's this I hear 'bout the railroad comin' through?"

"Yep, the El Paso an' Pacific done bought a right-a-way through the Circle JB an' should start construction in the spring. I don't know ifen they plan ta run through Hixville, but runnin' through my place should be good fer business in Hixville even ifen they don't git no closer."

"I swear to Goshen, Bill, ya keep fallin' in shit and comin' up smellin' like a rose! How do ya do it?"

"I don't know, Walt, jus' lucky, I guess. Course, with friends like ya an' Sam, here, I can't miss!"

"Uh-oh, got customers ta look after. See ya!"

"Sam, I jus' thought of sumpthin'. Let's go by the post office an' then home. I need ta git Jane ta write a letter fer me ta the Governor's office."

There was a package for me in my capacity as sheriff—a great stack of wanted posters! "Shit, I fergot about this sort of stuff. Oh, well, I better go through 'em when we git home. Ya, too, Sam, since ya're officially a deputy." I grinned, as I realized I could spread the misery even further!

When we got back home, I held Mary Jane while I dictated a letter to Jane. I was asking for 10 deputy sheriff badges or information on where to buy them. Once the letter was finished and I had signed it, I dispatched a rider to the post office to mail the letter.

I accepted that my next task was to go through the wanted posters and to try to get familiar with as many as I could. I did notice that there were a lot of bank robbers in the stack. It looked like that was going to be the popular crime of the year. That was bad, rustling generally hurt only the ranch directly involved, but bank robberies hurt entire communities. That was a good reason to hurry in setting up my network of deputies.

Shit! That was quick service! Within two weeks, I received a package of 10 deputy sheriff's badges and I wasted no time in giving one to Sam, who wore it proudly. Mary, Sam's wife, teased him that he would wear it to bed if he ever wore a shirt to sleep in.

I thought that I now had everything I needed to start collecting deputies, so I made arrangements to leave the next day on the recruiting trip. I left Sam officially in charge of the office, but we both knew that Jane would really be the one running it!

I left for the town of Lomax to see Athro Gooding, one of the names on his list from Joe Alfred. Gooding was about 35 years old and ran a small ranch just outside of Lomax. His wife wanted to move into town, so Gooding was ready to sell out and move, all he needed was a job that would pay enough to make it possible to leave the ranch. The position of deputy sheriff was ideal, Gooding could have an office in town and his wife could live where she would be happier. Gooding (nobody, not even his wife, called him "Athro") and I hit it off well and I hired him on the spot. I presented Gooding with his badge and received an excellent supper in appreciation from Mrs. Gooding. I spent the night in the Gooding's spare room and left the next day on my journey around the county.

My next stop was in the town of Himmel where I planned to meet John Manning. I was checking into the hotel when I heard a tremendous crash of gunfire from the attached saloon. I grabbed up my shotgun and ran to see what was going on.

I carefully stuck my head through the connecting door just far enough to see what was going on. A middle-aged woman was standing next to the bar with a shotgun in one hand and a small ax in the other. She was ranting about "demon rum" and the sin of drinking alcohol. All of the patrons were cowering behind upset tables, not daring to poke much more than their eyes past that dubious protection. The mirror behind the bar was shattered and the bartender was hunkered down behind the bar. A man was lying on the floor near the woman with blood flowing from a gash on the top of his head.

While I watched, a man walked in the front door an up close to the woman. He said, "Please, Mrs. Simmons, put the ax an' gun down so we kin get he'p fer the marshal afore he bleeds ta death. Ya wouldn't want that on yer conscience, would ya?"

She said, "Oh my goodness! I never meant to hit him that hard, but he scared me when he sneaked up behind me." She put the gun and ax on the floor and knelt down to render such aid as she could to the fallen marshal. "Well, don't jus' stand there, John Manning! Git me some clean towels ta use ta stop the bleeding!"

Manning turned to the bartender, who was standing and peering over the bar to see what was going on, now that the woman was not likely to shoot him. "Harold, give me a clean towel fer the marshal's head." Taking the proffered towel, Manning handed it to Mrs. Simmons, who pushed the flap of torn scalp back into place and used the towel to apply pressure to the wound. He turned back to the bartender and said, "Harold, send yer swamper fer the doc. That scalp is gonna need some stitches."

"Yeah, John, I kin see that. Hey, Buster! Go git the doc fer the marshal!" He looked behind himself and groaned, "How am I gonna git a new mirror?"

John grinned and said, "It's yer own fault. Ya've been warned too many times not ta sell anything stronger than beer ta her husband."

"Yeah, I know! But I can't he'p it when he gives me that sad story 'bout her naggin'. After he's cried into his beer fer a while, I jus' can't resist sellin' 'im the whiskey."

"An' once he's had enough whiskey, he goes home an' beats the shit out of her the first time she starts naggin'. I don't think either one of 'em have the sense God gave a billy goat!"

"Well, I gotta go. Here comes the crowd to replace their spilled drinks. Much obliged fer defusing the situation fer me."

As Manning turned away from the bar, I called out to him, "Mr. Manning, may I have a word with ya?"

Catching sight of the badge, Manning said, "Shore, Sheriff, what kin I do fer ya?"