The door flew open and Walter dropped his piece of cake on the desk, icing down on the Sheriff's notes. He jumped up and his eyes grew wide as he recognized the man as one of Wellman's boys; he had seen them in the saloon when Nathan shooed them out.

"Where's the Sheriff?"

"Uh- he- ah . . . out. He's out."

"I can see that. Where is he?"

"Not sure exactly- you can try the hotel."

Gus turned and left, slamming the door and Walter wiped his face in relief, leaving a smear of pink icing on his forehead. He looked around trying to figure what to do. He was in charge, Nathan had said so. Right, so what would Nathan do? His eyes fell on the mess he'd made on the desk and decided that was his first priority.

*********

The afternoon stage arrived in its usual cloud of dust and clamour. The driver calmed the team and set the brake then hopped down and opened the door. "Parkerville." He announced sparingly.

Ansen Playford stepped out and glanced around, moving aside so Trace could debark and get the bags.

"Where's the hotel?" Ansen demanded.

"Right behind you, mister. Careful it don't bite." The driver spat into the dust and stared Ansen down. Trace moved between them, smiling with his mouth only. The driver licked his lips, tugged his hat and moved away.

"Get us a room, I'm going to check out the saloon." Ansen said, leaving Trace to carry the bags.

************

Mrs. Hastings tilted forward as she chugged up the street, lips pursed, arms pumping. She had gone all the way to the Sheriff's office only to find he was probably right beside the bank in the hotel. Find the Sheriff and give him this information Mr. Ashbridge had said, as if she was some simple clerk instead of an important secretary. Mrs. Hastings rehearsed her response for when she got back to the bank as she pushed through the hotel doors and demanded to know where the Sheriff was.

"In the saloon, ma'am but I don't thin-" Ryan shrugged as the diminutive woman barged toward the saloon.

Nathan was at the bar watching Corbin in the mirror, sulking and drinking. He looked like a man building up courage to do something - something deadly. The poke in his side gave him a start and he spun around, hand darting to his holster.

"The stage arrived and Mr. Ashbridge told me to see you got this." She dropped the envelope on the bar, ignoring his defensive response. "My position at the bank does not include running all over town looking for the Sheriff or delivering mail."

"I'm sure it doesn't--"

"And I don't appreciate being used this way so I would advise you not to make a habit of using me as your personal delivery person."

Nathan nodded, looking down into the stubborn face and trying to smile."I sure didn't expect that you would--"

"And you better not expect it again." Spinning on her tiny heel, Mrs. Hastings left the same way she entered - hard and fast.

A couple of the men at the bar snickered and threw a few taunts about Nathan starting to draw down on little old ladies. He accepted the jibes and tore open the envelope, reading with great interest what they had learned about Ansen Playford back in Cincinnati.

Corbin looked over to see what the joking was about as the man entered the saloon and took a table by the door. The suit said somewhere back east and the face said opportunist. When he was joined by the taller man, Corbin felt something slide up his back. He'd seen enough men who lived by the gun to recognize a professional and the way they sat surveying the room said they weren't in Parkerville for a rest.

Nathan saw Corbin watching the men and he turned his attention that way, taking in the marked difference in the two. The tall one with the silver hat band was definitely a hired gun. Nathan knew the type very well; a background within his own family best forgotten always surfaced when he got this feeling and he felt it now. He put the papers back in the envelope and left the saloon, touching his hat brim to the strangers as he passed.

***********

Gus stopped as Nathan came out of the hotel. His hesitation was noted and Nathan squared around to face the man. "Not here for trouble with you, Sheriff." He looked around and moved to the doorway of the bank. "I need to tell you something." He wet his lips and took a breath then spilled everything that had happened out at the cabin and what he thought his one time friend might do.

Nathan leaned back on the door frame and studied Gus. "Why are you telling me all this? He's inside right now you know."

Gus's eyes darted to the hotel door. "He's gone loco, I told you what he did. I don't want no part of this, Sheriff. We was all friends once but he's just-- I got nuthin' against you, I just wanna get out and go far away."

"You buried your friend proper?"

"I did, made a marker too. In the stable."

"Okay, Gus is it?" Gus nodded. "I'll take your word on this but I will check later."

"So- we're good then?"

"So long, Gus. Good luck." Nathan just stared until the man turned and headed down to where he'd left his mount. Just wonderful. Nathan looked at the envelope in his hand and went into the bank.

************

Mayor Willard Covey leaned back in his chair and appraised the two men in front of his desk. Morley fidgeted in his chair, unused to being on the front side in serious talks. "Sheriff, Tessler brought this to my attention and I did, I believe, what was the responsible thing.

Sheriff Tessler! Sounded to Nathan like Morley was preparing to distance himself from any potential blame. "That's true, Willard, Morley only did what I requested," he said, using first names to level the field. "And I think it is information you would like to have; it has far reaching consequences."

Willard frowned at the familiarity in a business setting and did some exercises with his lips before lifting a conceding hand, nodding at Nathan to continue.

"An outfit in Seigo got a license to operate a steamboat service on the Longhorn with eyes on Parkerville as a main stop because of the cattle rail head and the regular stagecoach stop. They are betting on the railroad eventually continuing down here to hook up with our rail head and have it continue right down into Texas. Passengers from both the train and the steamboat would have much quicker access to their destinations. Won't help the stagecoach business but progress is pushing them out anyway."

"This is supposed to be confidential county information, gentlemen" Willard frowned again.

"Maybe so but this fella Ansen Playford is making a play for Wellman's property because it straddles the river and has water rights included in the original deed."

"I don't see-"

"He can block the traffic on the river and Parkerville won't see the benefit of a steamship service without his say so. Heck, even the railroad would have to erect a bridge way up river, inconvenient to say the least."

"Well he can't do-"

"If he gets the land he can, Willard." Nathan sat back and let things sink in a bit then he continued, explaining all about the I.O.U., the registry office investigation and Wellman's brother.

Willard jumped up and waddled around his chair, both hands leaning in the back. "That's preposterous! A year! This steamboat service is all set to start!" He made a sorry face at the outburst. So much for confidential information, he thought. "Can't we arrest this Playford? He lied didn't he? Why does it take so long?"

"He's in Cincinnati, Willard." Willard's face resembled a wide-eyed fish, silently breathing. "And right now Corbin Wellman is in town hunting for Miss Bleeker."

"Huh- I gave her a release . . . signed . . ."

"He doesn't much care about that. Anyway, that part is my problem; you need to get onto the land registry and give them the facts."

"But it's confidential!"

Nathan stood, shrugging. "Guess you'll have to work that out with county but time's short, Willard." He looked at Morley who popped out of his chair like he was bucked off a horse, more than happy to be gone from the centre of things.

"I'll- uh- I'll be in my office, Mr. Mayor." The banker fairly fled with Nathan not far behind.

************

Corbin wiped his mouth with his sleeve and was about to get up when the two strangers rose and headed for the stairs. He waited, not wanting any company when he went to the third floor. When he saw them take the turn on the second floor and climb higher he cursed silently and went to the bar, ordering another beer.

Maggie returned from her cooling off period and marched past the man at the bar, unable to resist a disgusted sniff as she did. If he so much as touched a hair on Allison's head . . . her thought dwindled away and she took in a deep breath.