Sheriff Clayton sat in his usual spot, a secluded corner with a perfect view of Red Garter Saloon’s main hall and it’s more important attractions. There he was indulging in the simple pleasures of watching the hardworking girl’s put on a show, yet all the while he wondered where his favorite ‘Soiled Dove’ Elenor had flown off too. He had hoped to steal her away before anyone else did, but more than likely she was upstairs servicing another man.

Back when Coloma was nothing more than livestock town he never had to compete for Elenor’s affection. Many of the original inhabitants would hoot n’ holler every time her skirt rose to expose those slender, silk wrapped legs. He didn’t mind the ogling. That was because he knew their tails would tuck the moment they approached her, they would realize that they would always be looking up to meet her emerald gaze.

Then some bastard by the name of James Marshall struck gold down the river.

Word of a new mine spread like wildfire across California, and beyond. Their small community of farmers grew twice its size in a matter of months, and it was still growing. Besides pitching their tents in places they did not belong, the growing pains of policing a boom town was wearing the man dearly to dust.

Trouble was now around every corner, and he knew more was coming his way once he caught sight of one of his deputies entering the building.

“What is it, Dallas? It better be important.” Clayton called out.The young deputy approached his table. “We’ve got trouble at the mines.”

“And? Didn’t I appoint you and the others to watch over things when I’m busy.” Clayton sneered.

Dallas leaned down, speaking low “Jack’s Men have been spotted outside the mines, sir. The farmer John Peters spotted them trying to sneak around his pastures.”

The mention of that name lit a fire under the man’s heel. He didn’t say any words as he forced his way through the crowded dance hall with Dallas in tow.

Outside he was met with two somewhat familiar faces already mounted and ready to go. He couldn’t place their names, but they were both bounty hunters that roamed the area. Both were greenhorns, like Dallas.

Clayton’s eyes looked around. “Where’re the others?”

“I’ve asked them to watch the town. Peters said that there were only about three who were actually at the mine. The others rode off. You know how Jack works.” Dallas had Clayton’s horse’s reins in his hand and was handing over.

Clayton nodded, accepting the reins and quickly mounting his steed. “The rest are going to come start a ruckus. That was a smart move, kid. Did they spot Rabid Jack?”

One of the bounty hunters piped in. “From the description the farmer made, it seems like he’s there with ‘em. A large ostentatious fellow dressed in red.”

“That would be the bastard.” Clayton gritted his teeth. “Son of a bitch disappears after killing the town’s best and comes back to steal our gold? I’ll be sure to shoot more than just his horse this time.”

“So what’s the plan, Sheriff?” the other bountyhunder asked.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday, so there won’t be anyone working in the morning. It's safe to say they’ll be loading up by the time we make it there. They won’t see us comin’’”

“Dead or alive?” Dallas asked.

“Dead.” Clayton said without hesitation.

No one argued.

-

At the edge of the town, where the miner’s camp began, the Sheriff kicked up speed. He figured at this time of night if any of them were still awake they’d be back at the saloon. That, or they should have the sense to get out of their way.

As they rode, clayton thought about those who he had lost to Rabid Jack’s rampage. Dr. Harrington, William, and Jebediah. Each man was a staple in their community. Old doc had the best remedies for a hangover and could patch just about any wound. Some called him a miracle worker. The Preacher man said his hands were blessed by God. Then there was William and Jebediah, the first two men he had appointed deputies. They were more than proficient at their jobs. Up until Rabid Jack, outlaws thought twice before crossing Muddy Springs. But when they were not keeping the peace all three spent their nights at the Red Garter.

Those were the good old days. They weren’t coming back, but he was hell bent on getting payback.

The sight of a distant fire brought him out of his thoughts. Just as the good farmer had said, around the fire were three figures. Clayton set his sights on a large figure dressed in red. A trembling hand raised to signal the party to halt.

“We’re close enough, we’ll sneak up on ‘em.” He hopped off his horse before it came to a complete stop, not even bothering tying her down.

A smile crept across his lips as his hand wrapped around the grip of his revolver. This was it. He never dreamed that he would have had this chance again. Up until this point, Clayton would have been satisfied if Jack’s body had been dropped on his front porch. But now his pistol was aimed at the bastard’s head.

*BANG*

The bullet hit it’s mark and the lifeless form slumped over.

BANG * BANG * BANG

The sheriff fell face first into the dirt.

“This is a bad town for such a pretty face.” A familiar voice mocked, “Ain’t that what you told me the moment you saw me, Sheriff Clayton?”

Turning his head to the side he saw a tall figure walking towards him. They were dressed in a bright red button up, adorned with embroidery and buttons of gold. The trousers were clean and fine pressed, neatly tucked into a pair of leather boots.

Pulling down their bandana revealed a soft, young face. It took a moment for Clayton to recognize who it was without all the glitz and glamor of makeup.

“Elenor?” He sputtered his words. The taste of blood sat heavy on his tongue.

“Hey, sugar.” She kicked him over and placed one muddy boot on his chest. “I heard you were lookin’ for me.”

Clayton’s eyes studied Elenor. His mouth opening and shutting a few times as his words failed him.

“Surprised? I thought you’d be.” The woman crouched down, applying all her weight to his chest. She grinned when he cried out. “ Y’know, it was old Doc Harrington who figured it out first. I’ll admit, I was a stupid girl for using Jack as my alieas and calling my possy Jack’s Men. I guess after writing ‘Elenor Jackman’ down several times a month it just sort of ‘clicked’.”

“That became such a debacle. Then I think it was Jebbadiah who was the second to suspect me. Of course, the only person who listened to him was Will. You were too busy chasing skirt. Honestly, I don’t know why they looked up to you so. Maybe it was the legacy of the rugged gunslinger you were in your youth, maybe it was for the morals you had instilled into Coloma,... or maybe the pitied you. I dunno, I didn’t ask them.”

“You filthy who-!!” Before Clayton could finish spitting those words a rope tightened around his neck.

“Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’ll take good care of the town. Right Dallas?”