“Well, I’ll bet the restaurant is open,” Hickok suggested as he turned to the others, “Will you fellas drag these two over to the undertakers for me and the marshal?”
“Food might help,” Boomer said as they started for Seven Tables.
Doc Shouse leading the posse, soon arrived in Murdo with the prisoners, who were then quickly herded safely into jail cells, “Where’s the sheriff?”
“He’s been evicted,” Chief-Deputy US Marshal Blackmon quipped, “But I suspect he may contest his eviction soon as he can round up some help.”
Which is exactly what Bulgebottom was working on at the Murdo Saloon.
This wasn’t over, no sirree, not by a long shot, GENTLE READER!
Season VI, Chapter 6 Renegade Marshal, Episode 15:
County Sheriff Philistine T. Bulgebottom was holding court at the Murdo Saloon—he HAD to do something; considering most of his income came from Benjamin McLintock (and now, the corrupt town marshal of Dreadwood, Boomer Jack—who, apparently, took over McLintock’s operation), It ain’t right, fellas, the federal marshals taking over here and evicting me, the duly-elected sheriff, from my office—it just ain’t right! I hereby deputize anyone who’s willing to go with me an’ run them federals out.”
The only ones to step forward were already deputies; the rest went back to their card games or drinks—turning their backs on the sheriff. The barkeep smiled slightly, and reached for his shotgun, “You are on your own, Phil, you an’ your henchmen. We’re all tired of paying you for protection—from you—now get out!”
Bulgebottom and his two deputies were not brave men and knew they’d better get—while they still could. They were last seen riding south out of Murdo…towards Dreadwood.
As soon as Boomer Jack and Hickok arrived at Seven Tables, Daisy hooked-up with her friends Alice and Benji for some badly needed play-time and conversation.
Susan remained convinced that Boomer had gone rogue and had half a mind to tell the famous Wild Bill Hickok what she knew, but decided to wait a bit. She took their breakfast orders and served them with the cheerful courtesy of a professional restauranteur.
James Butler Hickok did not mince words as they sat down to breakfast, “I appreciate you having my back, yet I wonder why—you are a corrupt marshal, sir. Wouldn’t it have been better for you to have shot me instead of those fellas?”
“Indeed I am, James, indeed I am, and to answer your question; no, it would not have been better.”
To be Continued…