The rough-hewn walls of the jailhouse shook like a scared bunny, and Sheriff Lane McClain leaned back in his chair to listen.
Didn’t take him long to figure out the ruckus was coming from Sully’s Saloon.
McClain sighed and stood, clomped out into the street. Seemed like it was going to be business as usual in Bitter Gulch.
There was no shortage of loudmouthed, rabble-rousing riffraff who rolled through town on a regular basis. Most of the time, they were just boys out looking to raise a little hell, and they’d settle into “yessir, nosir” compliance with a stern look and a flash of the badge from Lane.
Every once in awhile, a real bad character would pass through, and McClain would have to get a bit rough. Sidearms usually stayed at his side, but he’d do what he had to in order to keep the peace.
As he swung through Sully’s batwings and stepped into the darkness within, McClain could hear whispers all around him, and some low grumbling up front. He walked toward the bar, his eyes adjusting along the way. Before he was halfway back, he could see some lowlife had Sully himself pinned against the shiny mahogany.
Lane drew his six-shooter and took three huge steps to land just a couple feet away from the fray.
“Unhand that man, Mister, or there’s going to be trouble!” He commanded.
The outlaw turned a head over her shoulder just as Sully spoke.
“Sheriff, this is my daughter Linda Lou. She, uh, come to deliver a message from her mama.”
Linda Lou smiled at Lane, and her sparkling blue eyes were the prettiest he had ever seen. His heart pounded, and his belly churned.
Seemed there really was going to be trouble … for McClain at the least.