“You’re welcome,” York said dryly.
“But it seems unlikely that you will be able to recover the rest of the stolen funds...”
“I have a pretty good idea where they are.”
The banker flinched, smiled nervously, and went on, “Be that as it may, the city of Trinidad no longer requires your services.”
“Oh,” York said, his surprise clearly feigned, “you want me to step down now? Not let the door hit me in the tail on the way out, you mean?”
A few chuckles came from those seated behind the sheriff.
“We do,” the banker said firmly. “Our, uh, relative haste has a practical basis, as you well know.”
You mean, York thought, the longer I stay, the more likely I’ll nab your well-dressed ass?
But York said, “I’m afraid I don’t know. You’ll have to educate me.”
The banker sighed and turned to the mayor with an exasperated expression. “Jasper? Please. Explain to the man.”
The little barber said, “We learned earlier today that five very dangerous men are riding from Las Vegas to Trinidad to... how best to put it? Do battle with you, Sheriff. To engage in the kind of shoot-out that gave Tombstone such a black eye.”
“Their names are Rhomer,” York said, in a clear, loud voice. “Brothers — very dangerous, yes. You’ll all recall our ex-sheriff Harry Gauge’s brutal deputy, Vint Rhomer. I shot him down like the animal he was at the relay station last April. Many of you here thanked me for that.”
Willa’s head was lowered.
“I can well understand,” York said, “that you don’t want Main Street turned into a shooting gallery. Neither do I. But I do have one question.”
Up on the raised table, the mayor, the banker, and the mercantile owner glanced at each other. Then Hardy asked York, “What question is that, Sheriff?”
York turned and looked at skinny, four-eyed Ralph Parsons. “Since when did Western Union start making the contents of their telegrams public?”
Parsons gulped and lowered his gaze; his derby was in his hands and he was turning it like a spigot he wanted to shut off.
“Those men,” York said, addressing them all, “could be here at any moment.”
The banker snapped, “That’s right! So you need to pack up your things and saddle your horse and go, while there’s still time.”
With a frustrated sigh, Harris said, “Sheriff, nobody appreciates what you’ve done for this town more than we do. But the last thing Trinidad needs is a big showdown like the one promised by these five notorious killers.”
The mayor said, “But if they come to town, and find you gone, they’ll move on. No harm done.”
Willa almost shouted: “They’ll move on, all right, and go after Caleb! What’s wrong with you people, anyway? Aren’t there any men in this room?”
A warm feeling for the girl flowed through York, but as if in answer to her question, Zachary Gauge sprang to his feet. He was in the black frock coat that made him look half preacher, half gambler.
“Miss Cullen’s words ring true,” the Easterner said. “We should be banding together to help the sheriff stave off these outlaws. They are five — we are a whole blasted town. If the Rhomers ride in, expecting to find one man and instead find themselves facing a well-armed community, why, they’ll scatter to the four winds like the cowards such men always are.”
A smattering of applause.
Old man Cullen shouted, “You people should be ashamed! Caleb York is the best damned thing that ever happened to this town.”
More applause, not just a smattering.
“I demand a vote on this issue!” the banker said, just shy of yelling, his fist raised like it was the gavel.
The mayor said, “We’ll take a vote... Sheriff, is there anything else you’d like to say before we do?”
“Only that while I appreciate my friend Zachary here, for expressing his sentiments, I am not asking you good people to stand behind me with anything but moral support. I’ll take your prayers but not your guns.”
Frowning, Zachary said, “But one man alone—”
“Sir, I’m not alone.”
The banker snorted. “What, that desert-rat deputy of yours? You must be joking.”
“I can handle this. There are only five of them.”
Harris said, “Five guns, Sheriff.”
“Five guns. In the hands of five louts.”
More chuckles, more scattered applause.
“Mr. Carter,” York said affably, “look at it this way — if they shoot me down, you won’t have to fire me. Hell, you won’t even have to pay me my last month’s salary.”
They voted.
The bank president’s was the only hand raised in favor of removing Caleb York from the office of sheriff.
As Carter was stepping down from the table, York was right there. “Mr. Carter, I have a comment.”
“I have no interest, sir, in hearing it.”
“Here it is, anyway. If one of us needs to leave town in a hurry, it isn’t me.”
York smiled pleasantly, put his hat on, tipped it to the banker, whose face had gone pale, and started out.
But then Zachary, in the aisle just ahead of York, turned, a big smile under the thin mustache in his narrow, well-carved face.
“If you handle the Rhomers,” Zachary said, in a near whisper, “half as well as you did that banker, none of us have anything to worry about.”
And Zachary extended a hand, which York shook.
“I appreciate you standin’ up for me,” York told the man.
Zachary’s smile disappeared and something thoughtful took its place. Something... troubled.
“Might we have a word in private?” Zachary asked.
“Sure.”
The two men walked away from where many of those in attendance were lingering, talking in smaller groups.
Over by a wall, Zachary said, “You once recommended I take the counsel of my Circle G foreman, Gil Willart.”
“Well, if I did, I shouldn’t have put it so strong. Willart was one of your cousin’s men, though he’s no outlaw. Strictly a cattleman. I just thought he might be useful in pointing out the bad apples still in your crop.”
“I’m afraid,” Zachary said, frowning, “Gil may be one of those apples. My understanding is that this Rhomer gang is coming in from Las Vegas.”
“Yes, sir. That’s been confirmed.”
“Well, Gil spent two days in Las Vegas this week, looking into buying cattle for me. Is that a coincidence?”
“Could be.”
“And I know he’s been thick with these roughnecks my cousin Harry brought in, may he not rest in peace.” Zachary shrugged. “Just thought you should know that this Willart may not be an ally.”
“Appreciate it,” York said with a nod.
Zachary nodded back, and went over to where Willa had been waiting. They spoke briefly and then she came over to York.
“Caleb,” she said, smiling, less awkwardly now, “while there’s part of me that does wish you would leave before these outlaws come to town... I am very happy that things this afternoon went the way you wanted.”
“Thank you, Willa. And thanks for sticking up for me.”
She swallowed. Nodded shyly. “You deserve no less. And I’m so pleased that you and Zachary are getting along so famously.”
“Seems to be a good man.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. Because... you have a right to know this... he and I are engaged to be married.”