First day of the jamboree and the street was already buzzing with excitement. Final touches to decorations, inspections of all the activity booths, and wagons and horses cleared from the street. Miss Pointer was directing the progress of the not so eager children, cleaning up the messes left behind, so people could walk the street worry free. Her reluctant labourers pressed on, with encouraging words - no homework. No staying after class to clean slates.

Colt sat up on his cot in the jail and flicked sleep from his eyes. The sun was carving a sharp image on the far wall from the window, and he knew it was just past seven-thirty. Pulling on his pants and boots, he grabbed a basin, and went out back of the jail to the pump, filling it with cold water. The wash woke him up the rest of the way, as it usually did, and he dumped the water, went back inside and finished dressing.

Outside, the street was beginning to fill, and he could hear the kids complaining while their harried teacher laid down the law. Hammering from finishing touches added to the din, and he took a deep breath, checked the office, strapped on his gun, locked up, and headed to the barber shop.

"Knew you'd be in, Sheriff," Klaus beamed as Colt entered the shop. "Once a year like clockwork."

"Once a year for a professional shave, Klaus. Rest of the time I scrape it off myself."

"Yes . . . I can tell." He seated Cole in the chair, swirled a cover over him and clipped it behind his neck, then wrapped a steaming hot cloth over his face and told him to relax. "No use complaining, it'll stop stinging in a minute."

Jeremy Child climbed up into the small loft and sat in the chair, testing it for comfort and suitability. He could see the whole of the livery from there, and directly down on top of the where the assayer would sit with his scales and other tools. Satisfied, he climbed down and walked toward the diner, slowing to watch the school teacher herd her class about with shovels and pails.

"Great Job, Charlotte," he called, waving and grinning widely. He saw Colt enter the barber shop just as he went inside the diner. Arvil was at a table having breakfast along with Doc Staples, and Jeremy joined them, calling to Jin, the cook, for some bacon and eggs.

"Tried out your loft seat, Arvil, works just fine. Just have to remember to stock up on some food and drink before I get up there."

Arvil nodded, chomping on a mouthful of fried potato.

"What do you do if you need . . . you know?" Doc asked, casually.

"Huh? Uh-"

"Well you can't climb down or everyone'll know you're up there - and why."

Jeremy looked at Arvil again.

"I put a bucket in the corner with some straw in it so's you don't make a noise." He wiped his mouth and drank some coffee.

Doc muffled a laugh, keeping his face down.

"Hang it, Arvil, ain't there another way out? Through the roof or somethin'?"

"My livery don't have a hole in the roof, Jeremy. It ain't some posh hotel."

At that, Doc's laugh exploded, and he turned away coughing, then laughing even louder at Jeremy's expression.

"It ain't something to laugh at, Doc."

"Don't worry, Jeremy. The assayer will want to take breaks too, and the livery will be emptied out at that time. You'll get your chance. You just have to practice self-control."

"I liked it better when it was at the saloon."

"Me too," Arvil said. "Ain't as interestin' knowin' where everythin' is, bein' all neat and tidy."

Jeremy and the doc exchanged amused looks. Each year the jamboree brought something new to talk about.

******

Blue was directing Slant and Grogan Keyes, the piano player, as they shifted the piano out onto the porch in front of the hotel. Each year, except last, because of the assayer taking over the saloon, Blue sang to the crowds from the front porch of the hotel, and she was eager to do it again this year.

"Gonna hear your golden voice again, are we, Blue?"

She turned around and stared. "Howdy stranger, you new in town? Wait, oh, my gosh! Look Slant, it's the Sheriff, all pink and pretty."

"My jamboree tradition. You sing, I shave." He leaned on the hitching rail and watched Grogan level the piano and test the keys.

"Did you settle Patsy and Fred?" She asked, stepping down to the road beside him.

"Still have to talk to Edgar. He just can't seem to stick to agreements."

"That's why he's the perfect politician, Colt. Hedge, fence sit, procrastinate, pontificate, and dance a jig like no other can."

"Yeah, 'cept the backbone's made of fluff."

"Can't have everything," she laughed.

"Here okay, Blue?" Grogan called down.

"Yes, that's fine. A couple of chairs and maybe one of the smaller tables, and then we're about done."

"I see the girls have gone all out with the decorations on the kissing booth." Colt grinned, and they both looked to the spot beside the hotel.

"I had to put my foot down. Garters, okay, but other garments were not. And the huge lips painted on the front around the window was done before I could object."

"Well, I'm sure it'll go unnoticed with the crowd it'll cause jamming up the front of the booth."

"Of course you'll be here to keep order." She poked his arm.

"Ain't easy being Sheriff, Blue."

She chuckled and lifted her skirt to climb back onto the porch. "Come by for a drink later when the job gets too difficult."

******

The bell in the church steeple rang its twelve echoing gongs, and the jamboree was officially under way. The townspeople gathered in the street in front of the council offices, prepared to suffer the mayor's oration. The small band played America, and the council members all waved little flags behind Edgar, as he stepped onto the custom podium Fred had been ordered to build.

Twenty minutes later, the crowd dispersed, thankfully, after hearing all about the mayor's achievements, and his annual pie in the sky promises for the future of Sunrise. The band hastily made their way to the big dance platform on the church lawn, followed by the reverend, who looked excited and eager.

Colt had just left the saloon as he came waddling by.

"You're lookin' a bit sparky there, Reverend."

Ezra paused, puffing. "You know, Sheriff, I think I'm quite handy at throwing those horse shoes. The lord has given me a keen eye and a steady hand. I made several of those ring things."

"Really!" Colt grinned. "They're caller ringers, Ezra, and you don't throw the shoes, you toss 'em."

"Toss and ringers." He tapped his chin. "Thank you, Sheriff. Always an advantage to know the lingo." He waved and hurried off.

******

The sky was a black canvass covered in sparkling white dots, once the engine smoke dissipated. Troy stepped down from the train to stretch his legs and breathe some fresh air. He was alone as he ambled down the platform, breathing in the night. When the man stepped in front of him from out of the shadows, he thought it was an accident, but the hand on his chest told him otherwise.

"You Mr. Troy Waites?"

"Who are you," Troy took a step back, bumping another man."He's the man asking who you are, hombre." Jitter swaggered up and got in Troy's face.

"I've got this, Splink." Arley snapped, annoyed.

"Just lettin' him know--"

"The hell!" Jitter flew into Arley from a push from behind, and Troy turned quickly, dodging past Bowie, and darting toward the train steps.

"Don't let 'im get on that train!"

The three cowboys raced down the platform, cursing as Troy disappeared into a car.

"Now what?" The train whistle blew and it made a tentative chug forward.

"We get after him. Jitter, you take the horses and meet us in Sunrise." Arley shoved Bowie onto the steps ahead of him.

"But I'll be travellin' alone!"

"Just don't be late."

Jitter slammed his hat down on the platform and kicked it away, glaring at the blast of steam and the clunk of the wheels, as the engine accelerated.