"You don't think there's anythin' wrong with this?" asked Deputy Jeff Schim pointedly as Cherry roosted at his table in Garrapy's.

"Such as?" inquired the sheriff, spitting a mouthful of chew and taking care not to hit Schim's ghost feet. It wouldn't have made a difference but Cherry wasn't going to be rude.

"The fact that you were on death's door two days ago and now you're fine?"

Cherry waved a finger. "Not fine. I got wounds healin'."

"Yeah, faint scars from where the wolfman bit you."

"Have you been peepin' on me, Jeffrey Schim?" chided the sheriff. "You been lookin' at me in the nude?"

Schim didn't take the bait. "You don't think there's anythin' wrong with this?"

"You asked that already," said Cherry, tipping his brim low and kicking his feet up. "I don't know why there should be anythin' wrong with feelin' better. It seems like if I spent any longer at the Asper place, Levi Asper was gonna start chargin' rent."

Schim grabbed at Cherry's boots to push them from the table. His hand passed through. Bitterly, he said, "If you're feelin' better, we ought to figure out what happened to the demon."

"I don't think he's a demon," said Cherry. Schim arched an eyebrow.

"Why do you say that?"

"We had a chat while you were off lookin' for your killer," said Cherry casually. He returned to the previous topic. "You know, Jeff, if I'd known goin' in he was a wolfman, things might have turned out differently."

"In what way?" scoffed the deputy.

"For one thing," said Cherry, "I'd have brought somethin' to skin him with."

Schim frowned. "A man turns into a wolf and your thought is to skin him?"

"I don't know anythin' about wolfmen. I've never heard of one before. He was a big wolf. Bigger than any wolf I've ever seen. How much do you reckon a regular wolf pelt goes for?"

"You're talkin' about skinnin' a man," said Schim.

"I'm talkin' about skinnin' a wolf," clarified Cherry. "Anyhow, that seems like somethin' I should have known before I tried to kill the bastard. Somethin' you should have mentioned earlier."

"I didn't know he could turn into a wolf," glared Schim. "Do you think before this happened to me that I believed in ghosts?"

"I did," said Cherry. "Maybe that's why I can see you and no one else can."

"Or maybe your inability and unwillingness to do your job is part of what ties me to this world," suggested Schim. He looked at Cherry. Cherry gave him a look from under the hat then glanced away. "Have you thought of that?"

"I don't know, Jeff. Do you resent me for what happened to you?"

Honestly? "Yeah. A bit."

"That's fair," said Cherry diplomatically. He couldn't fault Schim for his feelings. "But in my defense, I told you not to do anythin' about that bank robbery." He tipped his hat up. "You sure you didn't know he was a wolfman? You didn't set me up?"

"Did you know?" countered Schim. "You got a look at him. Did he have a tail?"

"I don't remember," admitted Cherry.

"Then don't go accusin' me of anythin'. But for the time bein', let's forget about the wolfman," said Schim with some resignation. "The preacher--"

"That man killed you," said Cherry. "You sure you don't want to talk about him?"

Schim eyed the sheriff with suspicion. "...why do you want to talk about him?"

"I'm just tryin' to do right by you," insisted the sheriff. He couldn't sell it.

"You don't want to talk about the preacher," said Schim. He knew he was right and he was.

"I wouldn't worry 'bout him," said Cherry.

"I would," said Schim. "Do you know where he's gone?"

Cherry showed the hint of a smile. "I may have moved him."

"Where?"

"Don't worry about it," said Cherry cryptically.

"Don't worry 'bout what?" asked the young woman in the generously tailored dress. Today's color was a light blue that reminded the sheriff of the sky.

"Don't worry 'bout me, Suzette," winked the sheriff, disappearing beneath his hat brim anew. "I can tell you were terribly worried not seein' me the last couple of days."

"Feel free to worry me some more," said the young woman and she continued with her tasks around the saloon.

"Where could you have possibly put the preacher that's more secure than a jail cell?" Schim would not let up.

"When did I say I put him anywhere more secure?" asked Cherry.

"Please tell me that means you put him in the ground," said Schim.

Cherry considered and scratched his chin. "In a sense, yes, I did."

"What do I take from that?" needled Schim.

Cherry offered the young woman a disingenuous smile as she came back the other way before responding. "Whatever you like, mein Stellvertreter."

"Unbelievable," said Schim. "The worst sheriff ever."

It wasn't until the patronage started to pick up and Sheriff Cherry started thinking about leaving that Amanda Schim arrived. Cherry spied her as she entered the saloon and wished he had opted to make his move five minutes earlier. She didn't waste any time coming to join him. "We need to talk," she said.

"About what?" He asked, feigning as if he didn't expect her to yell at him again.

"Not here," she admitted. "Your office?"

Cherry didn't immediately reply. Schim, bored and waiting along with Cherry at the table, lifted his head from his arms and looked to the Sheriff. "Go talk to my wife."

"Fine," said Cherry in answer to them both. They relocated to his office. As he resituated into the same position at his desk, Amanda made certain to lock the door behind. "You know," said the sheriff, vanishing beneath his tilted hat, "If you don't want people talkin' about us, slidin' deadbolt the ain't isn't the way to go."

"I'm worried," said Amanda.

"About what?"

Amanda pulled over the corner stool. She sat beside him and examined Cherry with an intensity he couldn't comprehend. Finally, she said, "You seem well."

"I am," he answered. "Thanks."

"It seems...mighty quick," she continued.

Cherry let out a dry laugh. "You know, someone else was sayin' the same thing."

"Because it's weird, sheriff," Schim cut in.

"Amanda," said Cherry. "You've known me since we were kids. Did I ever get sick?" He waved a hand. "Besides, you know Levi Asper and his money. Probably gave me all the fancy medicines to make sure I got better fast as possible so he could go at me about Herman Tate."

"Do you know anythin' about Herman Tate?" queried the woman.

"I heard this theory somewhere that Asper's after the Tate ranch and would need to have a word with Herman to get it," said Cherry. "I reckon that's what this is about."

"Fantastic work," said Schim sarcastically. "I wonder who told you that."

Cherry side-eyed Amanda. "But you don't care about that. Let's drop the small talk. What do you want?"

Amanda frowned. "Why did you tell Lindsey Pieth that Lacey Tate is dead?"

"I don't remember tellin' him that," said Cherry. "So I can't tell you why."

"Is she dead?"

"I wouldn't know," quipped Cherry. "If she is, I haven't seen."

The woman cocked her head. "Seen what? Her body?" Cherry gave a thumbs up and remained otherwise immobile. "You haven't seen Jeff's body and you told me how he died."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"I heard about that from a reliable source," assured Cherry.

"The same reliable source," said Schim, "who has told you for weeks that Lacey Tate is dead."

"Anythin' else you wanted?" Cherry inquired, ignoring the spirit. "If you're gonna asked about the feller with two different eyes, I got nothin' new there either."

"Did he kill Lacey Tate as well?" Cherry shrugged. "That's what you told Lindsey Pieth."

"Yeah," said Cherry with growing annoyance. "I know. You keep tellin' me that's what I said and I keep tellin' you I don't know anythin' about it."

Amanda knocked the stetson from Cherry's head in a swift motion. "I'm talkin' to you, Ewald Cherry. Look at me when I'm talkin' to you."

"Why do you keep harpin' on it?" snapped the sheriff, bending over to collect his hat. "I don't remember what I said to Lindsey Pieth. I had a fever."

Amanda clenched the stool and tapped her foot impatiently. Then, she demanded, "Show me."

"Show you what?"

"Your injuries. You had a fever. Let me see what caused it."

Cherry snorted. "I'm better now."

"Did you get mauled by a wolfman?" Such a blunt question elicited a nervous laugh.

"No. Did Lindsey Pieth tell you that as well?"

"No," said Amanda. "I heard it from a reliable source."

"I didn't know you and Mr. Pieth were so close," jeered Cherry. "I wonder what dear departed Jeff would think about that."

"Oh, don't you dare drag me into this," barked Schim. "Grow up, Ewald."

Amanda wasn't finished. "This man with the different eyes-- did you really shoot him six times?"

"If Lindsey said I did, I guess I must have." Cherry pulled his hat down and kicked his feet up. Amanda tore the article from his head and flung it across the room. "I knew you would do that."

"You told me you shot him six times."

"Then I shot him six times," agreed the sheriff. "Obviously, none of them hit, or at least hit him well."

Amanda went quiet. Speaking softly, she said, "How far away did you draw?"

"Too far to hit," said Cherry.

"Anyone else, maybe," she said. "But not you. You only draw when you're certain you can hit a man. Ammunition's too expensive elsewise."

"I did hit him," said Cherry. "Not well."

"How far away?" Amanda asked again.

"Ten yards?" suggested the sheriff. "More?"

Amanda folded her hands and smiled cruelly. "Ewald," she said evenly. "The Tate parlor ain't ten yards wide." The sheriff started to argue. "I saw the blood you left behind. Yes, you were there."

"You don't know it's mine," dismissed Cherry.

"Yes, I do," said Amanda. "An ugly man with missin' teeth told me."

Cherry stared at Amanda. Schim looked at him and then to his wife. The fact that Cherry didn't say anything-- no, couldn't say anything, told the deputy that the sheriff had lost the upper hand.

"An ugly man with missin' teeth." Cherry echoed, brain scrambling to offer something more than that. "That's interestin'."

"A big ugly man with missin' teeth," elaborated Amanda. Then, taking a gamble, "And two different colored eyes."

Schim's head swiveled. "Wait, was that him?"

Cherry tented his hands before his mouth and took a deep breath. "Amanda, I don't know who that--"

"Cut that bullshit, Ewald." Then, "Did you shoot him?"

"At him," said Cherry.

"Six times?"

"Could have been less," suggested the sheriff.

"Six times," confirmed the woman. "He's walkin' fine, none the worse for it."

"I don't understand where you're goin' with this," said Cherry. "Or why it matters." Amanda Schim responded by taking the sheriff by the arm and biting down on the back of his hand. Cherry cursed and pulled away, tearing skin as he did. "What are you doin'?!"

"Show me your hand," said Amanda.

"No," said Cherry. "You'll bite it again!"

"I'm provin' a point. I don't got a knife or anythin' on me."

"It burns," said Cherry, inspecting the injury privately. "Do you have the hydrophobia?"

"Show me your hand, Ewald," said the woman, rolling her eyes. "If I'm right--"

To her surprise, the sheriff sported a wound. It was red and inflamed, the imprint of the molars showing especially deep. "If you're right, what?"

"Oh," she said curiously. "I thought that it wouldn't do anythin' to you."

"You thought bitin' me wouldn't do anythin'?"

Schim held up his hands. "Don't look at me. I don't know what she's thinkin'."

Amanda insisted upon watching the bite for several minutes. Some of the swelling went down but several of the marks remained. Finally, she announced, "I guess I was wrong." She frowned. "I thought, maybe, since you said you shot the guy and he seemed all right, that might have somethin' to do with you suddenly gettin' well."

Cherry couldn't follow the logic. "Come again?"

Schim, however, began to see his wife's aim. "Huh. I wonder."

"Lindsey Peith said that man with the different eyes is the one who tore you up before Asper collected you. He says he's a wolfman."

"A wolfman," derided Cherry, trying very hard to push the notion from her mind. "Amanda, you think we got wolfmen runnin' around Brody's Cross?" And who, when word got out that there was a wolfman loose, was going to be put in charge of getting rid of the wolfman? Not Cherry. He'd make damn sure of that by guaranteeing no one ever had reason to think there was a wolfman around. "What next? You gonna start seein' demons?"

"You dumb sack of shit," said Schim.

"You and Lindsey Pieth can talk about whatever you want," said Cherry. "Just leave Miss Lacey's ring out of it." He considered, adding, "You know what? Keep talkin' to Lindsey Pieth. Maybe he'll forget about the ring if he thinks he's chasin' wolfmen. That'll get him off my back and he won't notice when I don't return it."

"You have to find it first," remarked Schim callously. "I'm still not tellin' you where she is."

"It's not right," said Amanda. "Somethin's goin' on with you."

"Somethin' wolfman related," mocked the sheriff. "Somethin' Lindsey Pieth told you."

Amanda stood, kicking the stool approximately to its proper place. If Cherry was going to act like this, like she was a child or a fool, she regretted ever worrying about him in the first place. "I'm sorry I care," she said.

"I don't see why these talks keep makin' you angry," said Cherry.

"Yeah," said Amanda, unbolting the door and storming out. "I know."

As soon as she had gone, Cherry turned to Schim. "Hey, are wolves known for not gettin' hurt?"

"I wouldn't know," said Schim. "I reckon they feel pain like any other animal."

Cherry inspected the lingering bite wound on his hand and frowned. "Then why did Amanda think this would have anythin' to do with that wolfman?"