Fallen Angel

Part 1

Colorado Territory

Dusk had settled by the time Hank Sheridan reached the little mill town of Silver Rock. After crossing the South Platte River, he'd followed it south for most of the day. Topping a rise and seeing the town before him, he spurred his horse into a canter. If the gambler in the last town had been telling the truth, this would be the last stop on his search for Gina.

The road went past the mill, the waterwheel creaking slowly as the river drifted by, then it turned into the main street which ran perpendicular to the South Plate. The livery stable was one of the first buildings he came to and he left his horse with the eager boy sitting on the hitching rail outside. He didn't know how long he'd be staying so he paid for two days of board and feed.

"Where's the saloon, boy?" he asked, taking his saddlebags off his horse while the boy unhooked the saddle.

"We got two, mister," the boy replied. "The Cotton Gin and the Wild Oats."

Hank shook his head. The gambler said he'd left Gina at a saloon with some kind of plant name. But then he had been a bit rattled after the pounding Hank had given him.

"Wild Oats is just a couple buildings down," the boy said. "Cotton Gin's on the other side of town."

"Thanks for the help," Hank said, tossing the boy another coin.

He had only taken a few steps down the boardwalk when he heard the familiar, tinny sounds of a piano and was soon standing in front of the batwing doors of the Wild Oats. Apart from the piano, he didn't hear much else coming from inside, apparently a slow night, which suited Hank just fine. He figured it wouldn't take too many people to get the information he needed. He started to push through the doors when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Whatever his first instinct was, he forgot it as soon as he came face to face with the short, slightly pudgy man grinning up at him from ear to ear.

"Hank Sheridan! I knew it was you!" The man let out a bark of a laugh and thumped him on the arm.

"Zeke Johnson, you know you shouldn't sneak up on a man like that," Hank replied with a grin. "Are you ever going to start growing?"

"I gave up trying to catch up with you long ago," Zeke said smiling back. "How's the family? It's been a long time since I've seen everybody."

"I've been gone over a year myself, but last I heard they were fine. Sam is working with the Texas Rangers and Beau joined the army a few months back."

"Well, what brings you to Silver Rock? I thought you were scouting for the army."

"It's a long story."

"Well, you can tell me over drinks," Zeke said, pushing Hank forward into the saloon. "And you can listen to a proposal I have for you."

"What kind of proposal?"

"It's a long story."

After the bartender got their drinks, Hank again asked Zeke what he proposed.

"Well, Hank, it's like this. I'm deputy sheriff of Silver Rock."

Hank picked up his glass but stopped and stared at his friend. "What are you trying to pull, Zeke? You can't shoot the broad side of a barn."

"Maybe not the first time," Zeke said, feigning offense. "But if I have enough bullets I usually get what I aim at." He grinned and patted the gun on his hip that suddenly didn't look so out of place as Hank thought at first.

"Well, as I said, I'm only deputy, but for the past couple weeks I've been acting sheriff." Zeke's usually cheerful face grew suddenly sad. "Sheriff Andrew was shot trying to arrest a pair of outlaws who've been making trouble around here. I guess we didn't really take these men seriously." Zeke shifted uneasily. "I wired the governor for help and what I got was a marshal appointment." He pulled out a folded piece of paper and spread it out on the bar. Hank saw it was for the job of specifically apprehending the outlaws known as Trent and Tim Carlin. "I'm not cut out for this sort of thing," Zeke continued. "It's one thing to keep the peace, but quite another to go gunning for outlaws."