job.â
Wyatt relaxed and dropped his hand to his side. âTake a good look at this man, Thomas. He broke my nose when we were both twelve. Did it again when I was fifteen. All right, Justin. Iâve learned my lesson, too. Iâll work with you.â
Justinâs gaze narrowed. That was too easy. He didnât trust Wyatt.
Wyatt shrugged. âI know what youâre thinking. Itâs not only your besting me in a fight. We all know you didnât beat up that woman. If youâd stuck around long enough, you would have found out for yourself that you were cleared of the accusation.â
Justin settled on a corner of his desk. âNo one else was willing to wait around to find out I was innocent,â he said. âThey were all anxious to attend a hanging. Leaving seemed best.â
Wyatt nodded. He walked two steps closer, then held out his hand. âMy sister admitted to me that she was sweet on you. Told me sheâd cornered you after a barn dance. Said she kissed you, and, ah, made it clear she wouldnât say no. She told me you sent her back to her mama and warned her if she was foolish enough to make that offer to another man, she would find herself in more trouble than she could handle. Iâm obliged to you for that.â
Justin took the manâs hand and they shook slowly, measuring each other. He still didnât trust Wyatt, but he was willing to give him a chance.
Thomas still stared at the two of them, bewildered. âSir, I donât understand.â
âYou will.â Justin slapped him on the shoulder. âI used to live here. I was a hell-raiser and troublemaker. My mother worked in a saloon, but she wasnât a whore. I never knew my father and my parents didnât marry. That makes me a bastard. Some would be happy to tell you thatâs not the only thing, either. I work hard and I expect the same from my men. I hold on to my temper.â Except around Megan, he thought suddenly and had to fight back a grin. âI donât allow drinking on duty, or gambling ever. Aside from that, what you do with your own time is your business. Any questions?â
Wyatt shook his head. Thomas gaped at him, apparently overwhelmed by the information and instructions.
âThomas? You have a problem with any of that?â
âNo, sir.â
âGood.â Justin took his seat, then lowered the box containing his belongings to the floor. âAnything been going on in town that I should know about, Wyatt?â
Wyatt walked over to his desk and picked up a couple of papers. âI was writing up a report for you. Everything has been quiet around here.â He handed Justin the sheets. âExcept for the murder last month.â
âMurder?â
Wyatt shrugged. âSome saloon girl was found beaten to death on the edge of town.â
Justin stared at the other man. The coldness in his stomach quickly spread to the rest of his body. He was careful to keep his face expressionless as he studied the details of the case. There werenât many. According to the report, Roberts, the previous sheriff, had investigated for a couple of days and had concluded that one of the many drifters who had been in town at that time had been responsible for the crime.
The hairs on the back of Justinâs neck stood up. Something wasnât right. âWhat kind of sheriff was Roberts?â he asked without looking up.
âDecent. He kept the town clean.â
Not clean enough, Justin thought, fighting the ghosts that threatened to suffocate him. For a second, he entertained the notion that Roberts had ended the investigation because heâd been bought off. No way to prove that. But he didnât like any of itânot the murder, the brief nature of the investigation or the fact that the victim was a saloon girl.
âAccording to this, he didnât interview anyone but the saloon owner. Thereâs no proof she was murdered by a
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