Blood-Lines

Chapter XI -- Casual Pursuits

Summer, 1878 / Goblin's Toe, Wyoming

Leviticus LaRouchette carefully studied the bullet rounds that he'd discovered in Sheriff Poe's desk drawer.

Those along with several painstakingly detailed sketches of the bank layout, marked locations of the victims and other such notation made of the evidence collected at the bank; had in turn caused LaRouchette to become more and more impressed by the sharp intellect of this particular sheriff.

Mortal curiosity mixed with such tenacity of a sharp legal mind bent on dispatching proper justice had been a refreshing change from most if not all of the western lawman that he'd come across over the years.

With a sigh, he rose from the chair to continue his nickel tour as he made his way back, where the jails area proved just as neat and quiet as the main office had been with three empty cells swept clean, sheets properly folded and doors open wide with piss-pots emptied.

The double dial calendar clock that hung on the wall of Poe's office proved accurate almost to the minute of his pocket watch; while the handsome rosewood casing revealed itself to be of Welch origin with a perpetual calendar that informed him of the month and date while the day of the week was marked beneath the time as well.

Back at Poe's desk, LaRouchette once again settled into the chair as he resumed his study of the various sketches, where he found himself further impressed that the sheriff apparently had taken the time to number each of the bullets on a chart which also marked their location by both victim and location of where the firearm that appeared to have fired them had been found.

Like a proverbial spider's web, Poe rather eloquently linked most all of the who, what and where's that the evidence had revealed to him along the way.

As he examined several of the rounds individually through a magnifying glass, LaRouchette clearly saw scratch-like marks also noted by Poe that were etched against the sides of each bullet.

Apparently each of the minute scratches along the outer edges were considered unique to each weapon after a fashion, something that he'd not entirely been aware of until now.

Yet something else to keep in the back of his mind, moving forward.

Notes from the sheriff also indicated which firearm that each of the victims had been found with along with the caliber.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, he carefully replaced the bullets, sketches and magnifying glass in the drawer before he looked up to find the thin young man who now stood in the open doorway of the office.

Hat held nervously in both hands, he warily looked around the room.

"I, um, was looking for the ... um ... sheriff ..." his visitor offered with clear hesitation. From the ruffled brown hair and rapid heartbeat, his nervousness was almost amusing.

LaRouchette smiled politely as he rose to his feet. "The sheriff is currently unavailable. Perhaps I can be of some help?"

"We need the sheriff to tend to a drunkard about a faro dealer that he done shot almost dead in the bar just now."

The man quickly stumbled back and out of the way as LaRouchette walked past and stopped, his arm politely outstretched as he turned back.

"Well, lead on good sir, almost dead might be real dead by the time you show me this problem of yours."

As the man moved past, LaRouchette could only shake his head at what the job of a real sheriff must be like on a daily basis.

Fun and rather boring for the most part; but not without the occasional bout of amusement and entertainment to keep one busy.

With some surprise, he also realized that he had to admit that he was actually enjoying himself while wearing a deputy's badge.

Perhaps something best kept to himself for now, he mused as he walked upthe street.