It was mid-morning of what appeared like it was going to be a hot and humid day. In the sheriff’s office, Reynold sat filling out some back-logged paperwork he had been neglecting. Also in the office was the Fox Den deputy, Asberry Alcott; unlike his supervisor, Asberry was pacing the room back and forth, stopping now and then to peek out the structure’s lone window.

“You sure Marshal De La Cruz said he was coming today?” Asberry asked, a hint of anxiousness in his voice. The sheriff did his best to keep his head down as he rolled his eyes out of sight.

“Yes, the letter he sent said today,” confirmed Reynold, signing his name at the bottom of a report.

“It’s got to be, what, nearly ten now?”

“You’ve got a pocket watch, I’m sure you can check.”

The deputy reached into his breast pocket, removing the timepiece now that he had been reminded of it. “It’s ten fifteen! It’s getting closer and closer to noon!”

“Yes, that is how time works.”

Deputy Alcott was a kid; quite literally so. When he had approached Sheriff Reynold about the open position in the office a few months ago he had provided conflicting evidence regarding his age; in one moment he claimed to be twenty, another twenty-five. Sheriff Reynold was no slouch, though; as Alcott was a local boy the sheriff had ridden out to his parents’ farm house when he knew the youth to be away and asked them point blank.

“Asberry’s fourteen,” his mother revealed, “though he really likes justice. The tin star of a badge has always been his favorite shape. He’s really good at shooting too. As you can see, I’m pregnant with my eighteenth child and truthfully we ain’t got enough for Asberry around here. You have our blessing to hire him so long as you pay him enough to eat and keep a pair of boots without holes in them.”

Reynold needed a deputy who could shoot and wouldn’t be wise to the fact that he was being paid substantially less than an adult deputy would get, so the arrangement worked well for him.

Alcott had since had a birthday, and with it too had the first hint of beard hairs appeared on his chin. Reynold was fairly certain his young colleague had at least hit puberty now. And his mother’s words had been true; Deputy Alcott was a fantastic shot and boy did he love justice. But he was also an adolescent, and with that came its own set of challenges.

One of which, as was being displayed that moment, was his impatience.

“I hope Marshal De La Cruz gets here before noon,” Alcott continued as he paced, “It’s going to be too hot out after then.”

“Too hot for what, Asberry?”

“I was going to take the marshal out to where I practice shooting and set up some bottles,” the deputy replied joyfully, “I wanted to show him my cool trick shot. You know, the one I was telling you about where I can shoot someone from between my legs and then spin around and jump up and shoot a second person between the eyes?”

“Marshal De La Cruz probably is going to be tired from his journey,” Reynold tidied a paper pile on his rickety wooden desk as he spoke, “I’m not sure today he is going to want to go see your trick shots, as impressive as they are.”

“I suppose you’re right. If he’s ridden all this way for business he’s going to want to nab Sam Starcriss and Flat Horrigrove right away.”

Reynold froze a moment. “What was that, Asberry?”

“He’s coming here to nab Sam Starcriss and Flat Horrigrove, isn’t he? I’ve always thought those two fellows were shady. Spending their time loitering by the General store, spending their nights at the saloon. You gotta wonder why they don’t just get a job, the mines are always looking for men-“

“-I don’t recall telling you the marshal was coming to collect those two men. Where did you hear that?”

The deputy stopped his pacing. He gave a look of guilt to his boss.

“I…I saw it the marshal’s letter,” he confessed, “you left it on your desk, and I…when you said it was from the great Marshal De La Cruz, I couldn’t help but be curious. I’m sorry, sheriff, really! I don’t want you to think I go through your stuff, but in this case…oh, you know how much I admire lawmen like us! And especially one so decorated as Marshal De La Cruz!”

Sheriff Reynold had to sigh at his own foolishness. Of course Asberry had read the letter; the young man made no secret of his love of marshals, nor a secret that he knew many of their names and read countless publications regarding their exploits. And he was right, Marshal De La Cruz was not just any marshal- he was a well-known and highly successful marshal. That was why Reynold had intended not to give Alcott the names of the two men De La Cruz came to Fox Den to find; he knew Alcott would no doubt do everything he could to assist the marshal in his task, his help solicited or not.

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“You’re right, Asberry,” Reynold said, trying to play it cool, “I would imagine Marshal De La Cruz will be all about business when he gets here. But remember, you’re a deputy, and I’m the sheriff, so he’s probably going to primarily want to speak to me. Be sure you wait for him to address you before you speak to him.”

“Sure, boss!” The deputy reached into his back pocket and pulled out a clipping from a newspaper. “Do you…do you mind if I borrow your pen? When you’re done with it, I mean.”

“What do you need a pen for? What’s that?”

“Well…” the youth smiled a little, “when I do get to talk to Marshal De La Cruz I want to ask him to sign this picture of him from Law Boys Monthly. They had a story on him a few months ago about when he brought down the Goshen Gang and…I’m sorry, I can hardly wait for him to get here!”

“…I’m going to keep the pen on my desk, as I always do, Asberry. If you need it, it’s there, but I don’t know that Marshal De La Cruz really wants to be bothered with signing pictures. As you said, he’s going to want to get straight to work.”

Alcott nodded, although was a tad disappointed to hear asking for a signature would be bad form. But Sheriff Reynold was older and wiser, especially to matters with marshals.

“Sheriff, what’s the plan, then?” he asked as he tucked the picture back in his pocket.

“The plan? You mean when Marshal De La Cruz gets here? Well, I imagine he’ll have questions about where Sam and Flat are. So, we’ll help him with that, at least as best as we can.”

“Didn’t you see them last night?” inquired Alcott innocently. Once again, the sheriff froze.

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you go to the saloon last night?”

“I…I did…”

“Well, those two are always in the saloon after it gets dark!”

The deputy was right. Sheriff Reynold forced a smile to his face.

“You know what, you’re right. I think I did see them yesterday.”

“Did you talk to them?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you don’t drink, so why would you go to the saloon otherwise than to find someone or talk to someone? And with the marshal due to come today, wouldn’t you want to find them?”

“Haha, good point, Asberry. I suppose I did acknowledge them if they were there, but truthfully, my mind was focused on that bank robbery yesterday. That was witnessed by so many, and the amount of money the robber made off with is of importance to the community, obviously. Went to the saloon to ask Simpson what all he had heard about that crime. Didn’t say anything to Sam and Flat, though. Wouldn’t want to spook them, otherwise they may have tried to run.”

“Oh…” the deputy scratched his head a moment, “well, if we knew Marshal De La Cruz was coming here to find them, shouldn’t you have thrown them in jail overnight? You know, so they’d be easy for the marshal to find today?”

“On what grounds?”

“Wasn’t the marshal’s letter clear they were horse thieves?”

“But we don’t have any evidence of that here,” Sheriff Reynold was not used to being dishonest, but knowing Old Man McAffey had spoken to him alone and in private he had strong reason to think Alcott was unaware of that crime report as nothing had been filed yet. In normal situations, he would be delighted by Alcott’s sharp mind; but the boy, like everyone else in Fox Den, would not understand what had happened to him twenty years ago with Meriem. He needed Sam and Flat in the cave, getting the prairie witch who had harmed him years to trust them…and most importantly, to bring back his arm.

“Oh. So, you mean, even though the marshal says they’re known horse thieves we aren’t allowed to arrest them on his behalf unless they steal a horse here in Fox Den?” Alcott seemed confused, but was trying to be a good subordinate and understand.

Reynold nodded slowly. “Yes…something like that. Look, with the bank robbery like we’ve just had, my focus has been on resolving that. With it in broad daylight, a man with his description and strength…Sam and Flat really don’t seem like that big of a deal.”

“But, sheriff, if the marshal is pursuing them that means they must’ve done quite a lot of horse thieving to get that level of legal attention!”

“Yes, you’re right, deputy. But…do me a favor. When the marshal gets here? Can you not…say anything about me seeing the two fellows at the saloon last night? I don’t want to send the wrong message to Marshal De La Cruz. Since neither Sam or Flat acted out of the ordinary- least what I saw- there’s no reason to think they’d be wise to the marshal coming today, right?”

“I…I suppose that’s right,” nodded Alcott. “Say, sheriff, do you think we ought to let the marshal know about the bank robbery too? I bet with his reputation Marshal De La Cruz would be able to help solve that.”

“No need, Asberry, we’re taking care of it on our own. The marshal has his own crimes to deal with.”

“How are we taking care of it, sheriff? Do you know who the man who robbed the bank is? Where he is now?”

The deputy’s tone remained innocent, but Reynold was not interested in saying much more on the matter, especially since there were personal and supernatural elements to it that young Asberry did not need to be dragged into at this time.

“We’re taking care of it, Asberry,” he repeated, “trust me. The marshal doesn’t need to know.”

The deputy looked to the ground. There was something off about this morning and the sheriff’s routinely more logical and direct answers, but the young man reasoned his superior was perhaps being unexplainably vague for an adult reason, and that he was still too young to recognize it.

Alcott pulled out his pocket watch again. “It’s ten twenty-two. It’s even closer to noon now! The marshal sure is taking his time!”

The sheriff typically did not enjoy the young man’s impatience, but considering other conversation they had just had, he welcomed it back.

“Yes,” he nodded, “ it’s even closer to noon.”