CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

   Sheriff Doyle heard the door open but did not look up from his newspaper. It was probably just another person complaining about the Hard Candy Kid. There was nothing anyone was going to do about it because the Kid was the meanest son of a bitch in the territory.

   “Help you?” the sheriff said, still reading.

   “Yes. You can start by putting down that fucking newspaper.”

   Sheriff Doyle’s eyes widened as he put the newspaper down and turned in his chair. It was William Lyons.

   “Sorry, didn’t know it was you,” Doyle said.

   “So what? What if I was some nigger or Mexican coming in to kill you, what then? You just go on reading your newspaper while you get your throat cut by some dirty cocksucker?”

   Doyle nodded his head. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m just tired is all.”

   “Well I’m tired and pissed off. Was spending time with my boys when Nix came by and told me there was some sort of stranger in town making trouble. I don’t like taking time away from my family to deal with this shit.”

   “So why didn’t you tell Nix to deal with it himself? He’s good with a gun, ain’t he?”

   “Sometimes it’s easier to just treat Nix and his boys like little babies. If I let them handle it, they’re bound to fuck it up and give me a bigger headache.”

   Doyle pulled out a cigar and offered it to Lyons who shook his head, waving his hand away. “You know I don’t smoke.”

   “I forgot,” Doyle said. “I still don’t know why you keep those boys around anyway.”

   “I have my reasons.”

   “So what’d you want me to do? I can’t just go arrest him. You know we’ve been having some government assholes sticking their noses in my business, checking out how the town is run and how the jail is run, all that shit.”

   “You don’t have to arrest him, just warn him. Last time I checked you were the law, right?”

   Doyle stood up. “I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry.”

   “I’m not the one who should be worried.”

   The sheriff laughed, thinking that Lyons was referring to the stranger. Then the laughter faded when he realized that Lyons had meant to threaten him. “I’ll take care of it.”

   “Okay then,” Lyons said as he walked out.

   Sheriff Doyle picked up the newspaper, threw it back down, and cursed. That William Lyons was really something. The man walked in as if he was the sheriff. Doyle figured there was no use fighting it, though. Lyons was the mayor’s favorite citizen and so everything he did was okay.

   Goddamnit, thought Doyle. He hated when Lyons barked orders at him. He had hope, though, that maybe someday Lyons would fall down, crack his head open, spill those crazy brains of his all over. He’d love to be there when it happened. That’d be nice.

   The sheriff stood up, stretched, and walked outside so he could start looking for the stranger. He figured he would probably be in Betty’s place since that’s where most of the strangers ended up. Betty sure did have a good selection of whores. Doyle wasn’t a customer, though. After all, he was the sheriff and he had an image to uphold. Occasionally he would meet up with one of the girls after hours and coerce her into giving him a free one. He especially liked that four-footed girl, June. Shit, she was a wild one with those twenty toes wiggling in his face while he screwed her. He often sucked the dirt out from underneath her toenails. For the rest of the night he’d feel that grit in his teeth and he loved it. She was a nice girl, too. Very polite and respectful.

   Doyle walked over to Betty Black’s place. Stacklee greeted him with a nod.

   The sheriff grunted. “There a stranger in here, Stack?”

   The black man said, “Yes sir, lot of ‘em. One even came in wearing a donkey mask. Here’s over there. You believe it?”

   Sheriff Doyle looked over at the table and squinted in disgust when he saw the man in the donkey mask playing cards. “What the fuck, Stacklee? You throwing a party or something? Is he the one who caused trouble?”

   Stacklee shook his head. “No, sir.”

   “Then who did?”

   “Those boys work for Lyons caused most of it.”

   “I’m not asking you to be a goddamn judge, I want to know where the stranger is who came in here and caused trouble.”

   “Well, he’s not here now if that’s what you want to know.” Stacklee shrugged and tried his hardest not to smile. “Must be he left town on account he knew you’d be looking for him. Probably real scared, pissed himself. You might be able to follow the trail.”

   “Don’t get smart with me, boy. You play games with me, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

   “Well, sir, like I said, I don’t know nothing about where the stranger gone to. I’m just here to greet the customers.”

   Doyle squinted. “You like pretending you’re just an ignorant Negro, that it?”

   “No sir, not pretending. I am a Negro, sheriff. I saw it for myself when I looked in the mirror this morning.”

   The sheriff grunted and cursed. “Go get me a drink, will you?”

   Stacklee walked over to the bar and tapped on it. “Betty, can you get the sheriff here a drink? His mouth must be dry, he’s talking so much.”

   Betty held in a laugh and poured a shot of whiskey. Sheriff Doyle made a sour face and walked over to get it. He said, “Goddamn, Betty, you better tell your boy here that if he keeps running his mouth, I’ll run him out of town before he can say Abraham Lincoln.”

   “Oh, Sheriff, he can’t help it. He’s just trying to be amusing,” Betty said.

   “Well, I’m not amused.”

   Behind the sheriff, Stacklee stood smirking. He resisted the urge to take the whiskey bottle and whack the sheriff upside the head with it. What held him back was his knowing that the threat to run him out of town was an empty one. Doyle had been saying that ever since Stacklee came to work in Screwhorse three years ago. He thought maybe the sheriff had a soft spot for Negros but was afraid to show it on account William Lyons and the mayor might not approve. Still, it would be sweet to just take the whiskey bottle and give him one good whack.

   Doyle said, “Betty, your tits are hanging out, you know that?”

   “Sure do, sheriff. You plan to arrest me for it?”

   “I’d love to,” he said, smiling. His mustache drooped down over his upper lip, just barely covering his crooked teeth. He finished his drink. “What I’m really here for is the stranger who started some ruckus here with some of the boys who work for Lyons. You see what happened?”

   Betty said, “I heard you the first time and Stacklee told it like it is. Nix and them boys started in with Stacklee and the other man just came to his aid.”

   “Things get rough?”

   Betty shrugged and when she did her breasts bounced, causing Doyle to stare wide-eyed at them. “Guess so.”

   “And you didn’t think to come get me?”

   “If I called you every time a fight broke out, you’d have to set up camp here.”

   Doyle’s eyes were still on the breasts. “I don’t mind some of the local boys roughhousing every once in a while if they got a few drinks in them but we’re talking about a stranger we know nothing about. What if he’s a wanted man or a crazy killer or something? You want someone shot dead right in the middle of your place?”

   “I could just tell that wasn’t going to happen.”

   “Well, I’d like to talk to this man anyway. He still here?”

   “No. He left.”

   “And let me guess. You don’t know where?”

   Betty said, “No, I do not, sheriff but this town isn’t that big so I’m guessing you’re smart enough to find him.”

   Doyle finally took his eyes off Betty’s mounds and said, “Guess I’ll go find him then.” He walked towards the door, passing Stacklee.

   “Sheriff, I wish you the best of luck.”

   “Fuck you, Stack,” Doyle said, walking outside and wishing that he had buried his face in Betty’s tits.