The Heart of Lincoln County 6/?
Title: The Heart of Lincoln County
Author: darkfaery1
Chapter: 6/?
Series: TDS/TCR/The O'Reilly Factor
Genre: Western AU
Chapter pairings: Jon/"Stephen," Steve/Tad
Chapter rating: PG-13
Content: slash sex, Old West violence, language, angst, prejudice, mild het content.
Word count: 2510
Chapter summary: Jon and Stephen have an interfaith exchange; Tad and Steve get to know each other better.
Author's Note: Thanks to my beta insanekht for all her help.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray the life or defame the character of any actual person. Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. No money is being made from this work of fiction. It is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material. Any mention of any copyrighted material is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976.
Crossposted to tds_rps
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
"I think there's a rule against that, Jon."
On Friday afternoon, the store was empty of customers, but Stephen brightened when Jon came in to visit. Then Jon asked him to join him for the Jewish Sabbath that night. Oliver was minding his own business, dusting the shelves, but Tad gave his boss a knowing smile. What he knew, Stephen had no idea, but it made him uneasy, nonetheless.
Jon shook his head. "No, Stephen, there really isn't. I've had some of my more enlightened gentile friends over for Shabbats and none of them were struck by lightening."
"That you know of," Stephen said, regarding his friend suspiciously. "And what in all nature gave you the impression that I'm enlightened?"
"Well, you're more enlightened than you were when I first met you," Jon said, laughing.
Stephen put his finger to his chin and considered Jon's offer. "Can we have blintzes?"
"Of course, we can have blintzes," Jon said. "And we'll also have wine, challah bread, gefilte fish, roast chicken and potatoes, and cake."
Stephen licked his lips hungrily. "What kind of cake?"
"Chocolate."
"All right, I'll do it," Stephen said, trying to make his surrender seem like it was painful for him. "But then you have to go to Mass with me on Sunday."
"I forgot to tell you," Jon said sheepishly, "you'll have to wear a kippah tonight and I'm not allowed to kneel at church."
Stephen grimaced, convinced he was getting the short end of the religious stick, but at least there would be cake and blintzes.
***
John was doing very well with the shotgun; that morning he blew a hole smack dab in the middle of one of Mr. Colbert's empty crates, so Tad felt confident enough to leave John in the store alone that night while he took a few hours off. Of course, he was banned from the House, not that he wanted any of O'Reilly's watered-down whiskey, so he headed over to Ike Stockton's Saloon.
Ike Stockton's was really just a hole-in-the-wall, with a small bar and a few tables. It was dark and thick with tobacco smoke. As people often did, Ike scrutinized Tad's face to divine whether it was him or Paul he was dealing with. "It's all right, Ike," Tad said. "Paul's out of town."
Ike breathed much easier. "What can I get for you, Tad?"
"Beer and a whiskey." Tad borrowed a candle and settled at one of the tables with his latest penny dreadful, Black Bart, the Knight of the Road.
"That's a new one, isn't it?"
Tad started at the sound of Steve's voice, which always went through his body like a lightening bolt. "Yeah," he answered stupidly.
Steve pulled up a chair and sat next to him. Tad put his penny dreadful to the side and took a sip of his beer, not having the slightest idea what to say.
Steve ordered a whiskey. "You know, Tad, if you don't mind me saying, you just don't strike me as the gunfighter type. You look as if you'd be more at home in a library, reading."
"Never been to a library," Tad said with a wistful grin, "though I'd sorely like to see one."
"Boston has the oldest public library in America," the Massachusetts native told him. "Speaking of books, I brought a few with me that I could lend to you; Mark Twain's latest, Tom Sawyer, and a couple by a Frenchman named Jules Verne, who writes the most fantastic adventures…"
Every word he spoke, every kind look, every smile made Tad fall in love with Steve that much more. That his love would likely never be returned hardly mattered.
***
Steve hadn't thought about it for years--two boys who were almost men, less interested in girls than they were in their own bodies. It started with a stolen kiss behind the church near the graveyard, when he and David were supposed to be in Sunday school. And then there were the spring days by the creek, where they swam and explored each other's forbidden places under the water. Two springs later, David married Abby Gardner and fathered a child. Steve joined the local constabulary and ignored that part of himself David had awakened.
But now the infatuation in Tad's gaze was impossible to dismiss, though David's eyes were never quite so ardent. Steve didn't know how to respond, so he drank more than he was accustomed to, until Tad regarded him with concern.
"You all right, Steve?" Tad took the glass from his hand and slipped his arm through the deputy's, helping him to his feet. "I'm gonna take you home."
Steve giggled and concentrated very hard in order to touch the tip of Tad's nose with his forefinger. "I think that is an excellent idea."
Tad made a sideways glance towards Ike and the other patrons around them, but no one else had seen the flirtatious gesture. Tad was surprisingly strong for his slight frame, as he led Steve up the street towards the boardinghouse. The young gunfighter, who had drunk as much as Steve, still looked sober and walked as straight as an arrow.
As they passed the Colbert Store, Steve took Tad's hand and pulled him along the side of the building, then pushed the gunfighter against the wall harder than he intended, because Steve had lost his balance.
"Who's there?" came a muffled English accent from inside.
"Oh jeez, don't shoot, John, it's just me," Tad called. "I'll be in shortly."
Steve snickered. "Not too shortly." The deputy placed his hands flat against Tad's chest and did his best to focus on his handsome face. "You have very full lips."
"Steve, you need to get to sleep."
"You want to kiss me, don't you?" Even through his drunken haze, Steve could see that his question embarrassed Tad. Steve stroked his cheek gently. "Don't you?"
Tad closed his eyes briefly and whispered, "More than anything." Steve brushed his lips against Tad's, but the gunfighter pushed him away. "If you still want me to kiss you when you're sober, I'll kiss you so long and hard, you'll never forget it."
"I'm sorry." Steve stumbled back and covered his face. "I don't usually drink this much."
"I kinda figured." Tad put his arm around the deputy and took him to the boardinghouse.
***
The Shabbat had been a success. Stephen seemed fascinated by the ritual and confessed to enjoying the sound of Jon singing in Hebrew. Now, it was Jon's turn to repay Stephen by going to church with him, so Jon met him early Sunday morning at the store. There was no church in Lincoln, so each week, Stephen rode out with a respected Mexican family, the Bacas, who attended Mass at the little church in Picacho.
"I'm glad you're going with us, Jon," Stephen told him. "You can help me with my Spanish."
"But the Bacas speak English."
"I know, but most of the other people at the church don't. Besides, I'm trying to learn a few phrases, since half my customers are Mexican."
Jon gazed at his friend affectionately. "I told you you're enlightened."
Stephen blushed and glowered at him. "Oh, stop looking at me with those moony blue eyes of yours. I'm doing it because it's good business."
Jon lowered his eyes, but continued to smile. "Of course, Stephen, whatever you say."
***
John hadn't yet built up the courage to call on Amy, so he went in search of some liquid courage from Ed Helms's still, as the saloons were all closed on Sunday.
Tad swept the floor even though it wasn't his job to do so. He concentrated on the few specks of dust he'd missed and tried to hypnotize himself by staring at the grain of the wooden planks. His usual amusement, reading, just brought back memories of Friday night and the confusion it had caused in Tad's heart.
Part of him was disappointed in Steve for acting so contrary to his character, but Tad knew what whiskey could do to the most upstanding men. He would have been happy to forgive Steve's lapse in judgment if it weren't for the incident outside the store.
He cursed himself for wearing his heart on his sleeve, thus making it obvious to Steve how he felt about him, but Steve practically mocked him for it. Tad had gotten the tar beat out of him for less, but somehow this was so much worse. He expected a lot better from the deputy--perhaps too much.
When Steve knocked on the locked door, Tad jumped, then immediately felt sick to his stomach. He let the deputy in, but refused to meet his eyes.
"Here's the book I mentioned." Steve held out a volume to Tad, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. "I forgot to give it to you last night."
"Thanks." Tad put the book on top of the counter and continued to clutch his broom as if it was a shield to protect his heart from further injury.
"I'm so sorry," Steve began sincerely. "I was very unkind to you last night and I didn't mean to be. I consider you a friend."
"I think you already know how I feel about you." Tad looked down and twirled the broom slowly in his hands. "I can't help it; I've never been able to help it, but I'll do my best to hide it."
Steve took a step closer. He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. "I've been hiding it from everyone, including myself, for years. I don't want to anymore, at least not from you."
Tad's heart started pounding painfully against his chest, but he refused to try to understand what Steve was saying until he was certain it wasn't another dream about to be shattered.
"If I remember correctly," Steve said, grinning shyly, "and I'll admit my recollection of last night isn't as good as it should be, but I seem to remember that you said that if I was sober and I still wanted you to kiss me…well, I'm sober. Will you, please?"
Tad had been trying to keep his emotions in check, but as soon as Steve said the words, he dropped the broom he was holding and lunged at Steve, wrapping his arms around the deputy's neck and crushing Steve's lips with his own. Tad gently pried Steve's teeth open with his tongue and hungrily explored his mouth. Steve enveloped Tad in a tight embrace, moaning his enjoyment, and wrestling Tad's tongue with his own.
Tad tried to sear the memory of all these exquisite sensations coursing through his body, so he could remember them forever: the feel of Steve's body pressed hard against him, the softness of his hair between his fingers, the hint of Steve's excitement rubbing against his thigh.
Steve withdrew finally and cupped Tad's cheek in his hand. "That was the finest kiss I've ever been party to, but I've got to get back to the jail."
Tad nodded sadly and picked up the broom. "I understand. There's probably a speck of dirt on this floor I missed the first three times I swept it."
Steve laughed, put his hands on Tad's shoulders, and gazed into his warm, brown eyes. "I want to see you again--soon. I'll come by the store this week and we can figure something out." Steve placed one last amorous kiss on Tad's lips, then reluctantly exited the store.
***
Steve returned to the jail, flushed and already aching for Tad's lips. It took him a moment to notice that Sheriff Black was sitting at his desk. It was unusual for Steve to see his boss on a Sunday, but since Lewis had gotten reelected this past week after running unopposed, he seemed to take his job more seriously than Steve had seen him do since he got to Lincoln. Steve suspected that it was largely due to the fact that Lewis's job was now secure for another two years.
"Hey, Lewis."
"Steve," he said grimly. "Have a seat."
The deputy sat across from the sheriff and looked at him expectantly.
"Ike Stockton said you were drinking with Tad Dinello the other night."
Steve attempted to keep his expression even. "Yeah, we had a few whiskeys. I usually don't drink--"
Lewis waved away his concern and snorted. "Oh, hell, I don't care about you letting loose on your night off. It's just that you should know--and this is my fault for not mentioning it--but the Dinello Brothers are the worst troublemakers in this county."
Steve couldn't believe it. Gentle, sweet, kissable Tad, a troublemaker? "I didn't know Tad had brothers."
"One brother--a twin named Paul. That son-of-a-bitch would shoot you as soon as look at you."
"I don't think I've ever seen Paul--that I know of."
"It wouldn't take you more than a few seconds to tell the difference between them," Black said. "Tad's all right on his own, but Paul's a hard-skulled character. You can see the evil in his eyes. He and Tad do O'Reilly's dirty work."
"But Tad doesn't work for O'Reilly anymore," Steve reminded him. "He works for Stephen Colbert now."
Lewis rolled his eyes. "As a hired gun."
"As a clerk," Steve countered defensively. "He wears a gun to protect the store and the people who shop and work there. Given what I've heard and seen of O'Reilly, I think that's a very wise idea on Colbert's part."
"Speaking of Mr. Colbert, it strikes me as odd that Paul hasn't been seen since the day you and he arrived in town, after being held up."
"You think Paul held up the stage?" Steve wished he could stop his heart from racing. Just because Paul might have been there, didn't mean Tad was involved.
"Paul and Tad," Lewis said, quickly destroying Steve's remaining hope. "You said there were two men and there's rarely one twin without the other. You also said you shot one of them. Maybe Paul's dead or Bill's hiding him somewhere."
The memory of the robbery came back to Steve in an unwanted flash. I shot the one who killed the driver. The other man never fired, but made sure to get the wounded one away in a hurry. Could the other man have been Tad? "I never got a look at either of them and their horses were muddied to hide the markings. There's no way to prove it was them."
"That's why I want you to have a few more friendly chats with our boy Tad. Maybe he'll let something slip." Lewis laughed. "Get a confession and I'll make sure you get a raise." Lewis got up and patted him on the back.
As soon as the sheriff left him alone, Steve lowered his head on the desk and was overcome by the sudden urge to cry.
To be continued…
Author: darkfaery1
Chapter: 6/?
Series: TDS/TCR/The O'Reilly Factor
Genre: Western AU
Chapter pairings: Jon/"Stephen," Steve/Tad
Chapter rating: PG-13
Content: slash sex, Old West violence, language, angst, prejudice, mild het content.
Word count: 2510
Chapter summary: Jon and Stephen have an interfaith exchange; Tad and Steve get to know each other better.
Author's Note: Thanks to my beta insanekht for all her help.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray the life or defame the character of any actual person. Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. No money is being made from this work of fiction. It is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material. Any mention of any copyrighted material is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976.
Crossposted to tds_rps
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
"I think there's a rule against that, Jon."
On Friday afternoon, the store was empty of customers, but Stephen brightened when Jon came in to visit. Then Jon asked him to join him for the Jewish Sabbath that night. Oliver was minding his own business, dusting the shelves, but Tad gave his boss a knowing smile. What he knew, Stephen had no idea, but it made him uneasy, nonetheless.
Jon shook his head. "No, Stephen, there really isn't. I've had some of my more enlightened gentile friends over for Shabbats and none of them were struck by lightening."
"That you know of," Stephen said, regarding his friend suspiciously. "And what in all nature gave you the impression that I'm enlightened?"
"Well, you're more enlightened than you were when I first met you," Jon said, laughing.
Stephen put his finger to his chin and considered Jon's offer. "Can we have blintzes?"
"Of course, we can have blintzes," Jon said. "And we'll also have wine, challah bread, gefilte fish, roast chicken and potatoes, and cake."
Stephen licked his lips hungrily. "What kind of cake?"
"Chocolate."
"All right, I'll do it," Stephen said, trying to make his surrender seem like it was painful for him. "But then you have to go to Mass with me on Sunday."
"I forgot to tell you," Jon said sheepishly, "you'll have to wear a kippah tonight and I'm not allowed to kneel at church."
Stephen grimaced, convinced he was getting the short end of the religious stick, but at least there would be cake and blintzes.
***
John was doing very well with the shotgun; that morning he blew a hole smack dab in the middle of one of Mr. Colbert's empty crates, so Tad felt confident enough to leave John in the store alone that night while he took a few hours off. Of course, he was banned from the House, not that he wanted any of O'Reilly's watered-down whiskey, so he headed over to Ike Stockton's Saloon.
Ike Stockton's was really just a hole-in-the-wall, with a small bar and a few tables. It was dark and thick with tobacco smoke. As people often did, Ike scrutinized Tad's face to divine whether it was him or Paul he was dealing with. "It's all right, Ike," Tad said. "Paul's out of town."
Ike breathed much easier. "What can I get for you, Tad?"
"Beer and a whiskey." Tad borrowed a candle and settled at one of the tables with his latest penny dreadful, Black Bart, the Knight of the Road.
"That's a new one, isn't it?"
Tad started at the sound of Steve's voice, which always went through his body like a lightening bolt. "Yeah," he answered stupidly.
Steve pulled up a chair and sat next to him. Tad put his penny dreadful to the side and took a sip of his beer, not having the slightest idea what to say.
Steve ordered a whiskey. "You know, Tad, if you don't mind me saying, you just don't strike me as the gunfighter type. You look as if you'd be more at home in a library, reading."
"Never been to a library," Tad said with a wistful grin, "though I'd sorely like to see one."
"Boston has the oldest public library in America," the Massachusetts native told him. "Speaking of books, I brought a few with me that I could lend to you; Mark Twain's latest, Tom Sawyer, and a couple by a Frenchman named Jules Verne, who writes the most fantastic adventures…"
Every word he spoke, every kind look, every smile made Tad fall in love with Steve that much more. That his love would likely never be returned hardly mattered.
***
Steve hadn't thought about it for years--two boys who were almost men, less interested in girls than they were in their own bodies. It started with a stolen kiss behind the church near the graveyard, when he and David were supposed to be in Sunday school. And then there were the spring days by the creek, where they swam and explored each other's forbidden places under the water. Two springs later, David married Abby Gardner and fathered a child. Steve joined the local constabulary and ignored that part of himself David had awakened.
But now the infatuation in Tad's gaze was impossible to dismiss, though David's eyes were never quite so ardent. Steve didn't know how to respond, so he drank more than he was accustomed to, until Tad regarded him with concern.
"You all right, Steve?" Tad took the glass from his hand and slipped his arm through the deputy's, helping him to his feet. "I'm gonna take you home."
Steve giggled and concentrated very hard in order to touch the tip of Tad's nose with his forefinger. "I think that is an excellent idea."
Tad made a sideways glance towards Ike and the other patrons around them, but no one else had seen the flirtatious gesture. Tad was surprisingly strong for his slight frame, as he led Steve up the street towards the boardinghouse. The young gunfighter, who had drunk as much as Steve, still looked sober and walked as straight as an arrow.
As they passed the Colbert Store, Steve took Tad's hand and pulled him along the side of the building, then pushed the gunfighter against the wall harder than he intended, because Steve had lost his balance.
"Who's there?" came a muffled English accent from inside.
"Oh jeez, don't shoot, John, it's just me," Tad called. "I'll be in shortly."
Steve snickered. "Not too shortly." The deputy placed his hands flat against Tad's chest and did his best to focus on his handsome face. "You have very full lips."
"Steve, you need to get to sleep."
"You want to kiss me, don't you?" Even through his drunken haze, Steve could see that his question embarrassed Tad. Steve stroked his cheek gently. "Don't you?"
Tad closed his eyes briefly and whispered, "More than anything." Steve brushed his lips against Tad's, but the gunfighter pushed him away. "If you still want me to kiss you when you're sober, I'll kiss you so long and hard, you'll never forget it."
"I'm sorry." Steve stumbled back and covered his face. "I don't usually drink this much."
"I kinda figured." Tad put his arm around the deputy and took him to the boardinghouse.
***
The Shabbat had been a success. Stephen seemed fascinated by the ritual and confessed to enjoying the sound of Jon singing in Hebrew. Now, it was Jon's turn to repay Stephen by going to church with him, so Jon met him early Sunday morning at the store. There was no church in Lincoln, so each week, Stephen rode out with a respected Mexican family, the Bacas, who attended Mass at the little church in Picacho.
"I'm glad you're going with us, Jon," Stephen told him. "You can help me with my Spanish."
"But the Bacas speak English."
"I know, but most of the other people at the church don't. Besides, I'm trying to learn a few phrases, since half my customers are Mexican."
Jon gazed at his friend affectionately. "I told you you're enlightened."
Stephen blushed and glowered at him. "Oh, stop looking at me with those moony blue eyes of yours. I'm doing it because it's good business."
Jon lowered his eyes, but continued to smile. "Of course, Stephen, whatever you say."
***
John hadn't yet built up the courage to call on Amy, so he went in search of some liquid courage from Ed Helms's still, as the saloons were all closed on Sunday.
Tad swept the floor even though it wasn't his job to do so. He concentrated on the few specks of dust he'd missed and tried to hypnotize himself by staring at the grain of the wooden planks. His usual amusement, reading, just brought back memories of Friday night and the confusion it had caused in Tad's heart.
Part of him was disappointed in Steve for acting so contrary to his character, but Tad knew what whiskey could do to the most upstanding men. He would have been happy to forgive Steve's lapse in judgment if it weren't for the incident outside the store.
He cursed himself for wearing his heart on his sleeve, thus making it obvious to Steve how he felt about him, but Steve practically mocked him for it. Tad had gotten the tar beat out of him for less, but somehow this was so much worse. He expected a lot better from the deputy--perhaps too much.
When Steve knocked on the locked door, Tad jumped, then immediately felt sick to his stomach. He let the deputy in, but refused to meet his eyes.
"Here's the book I mentioned." Steve held out a volume to Tad, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. "I forgot to give it to you last night."
"Thanks." Tad put the book on top of the counter and continued to clutch his broom as if it was a shield to protect his heart from further injury.
"I'm so sorry," Steve began sincerely. "I was very unkind to you last night and I didn't mean to be. I consider you a friend."
"I think you already know how I feel about you." Tad looked down and twirled the broom slowly in his hands. "I can't help it; I've never been able to help it, but I'll do my best to hide it."
Steve took a step closer. He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. "I've been hiding it from everyone, including myself, for years. I don't want to anymore, at least not from you."
Tad's heart started pounding painfully against his chest, but he refused to try to understand what Steve was saying until he was certain it wasn't another dream about to be shattered.
"If I remember correctly," Steve said, grinning shyly, "and I'll admit my recollection of last night isn't as good as it should be, but I seem to remember that you said that if I was sober and I still wanted you to kiss me…well, I'm sober. Will you, please?"
Tad had been trying to keep his emotions in check, but as soon as Steve said the words, he dropped the broom he was holding and lunged at Steve, wrapping his arms around the deputy's neck and crushing Steve's lips with his own. Tad gently pried Steve's teeth open with his tongue and hungrily explored his mouth. Steve enveloped Tad in a tight embrace, moaning his enjoyment, and wrestling Tad's tongue with his own.
Tad tried to sear the memory of all these exquisite sensations coursing through his body, so he could remember them forever: the feel of Steve's body pressed hard against him, the softness of his hair between his fingers, the hint of Steve's excitement rubbing against his thigh.
Steve withdrew finally and cupped Tad's cheek in his hand. "That was the finest kiss I've ever been party to, but I've got to get back to the jail."
Tad nodded sadly and picked up the broom. "I understand. There's probably a speck of dirt on this floor I missed the first three times I swept it."
Steve laughed, put his hands on Tad's shoulders, and gazed into his warm, brown eyes. "I want to see you again--soon. I'll come by the store this week and we can figure something out." Steve placed one last amorous kiss on Tad's lips, then reluctantly exited the store.
***
Steve returned to the jail, flushed and already aching for Tad's lips. It took him a moment to notice that Sheriff Black was sitting at his desk. It was unusual for Steve to see his boss on a Sunday, but since Lewis had gotten reelected this past week after running unopposed, he seemed to take his job more seriously than Steve had seen him do since he got to Lincoln. Steve suspected that it was largely due to the fact that Lewis's job was now secure for another two years.
"Hey, Lewis."
"Steve," he said grimly. "Have a seat."
The deputy sat across from the sheriff and looked at him expectantly.
"Ike Stockton said you were drinking with Tad Dinello the other night."
Steve attempted to keep his expression even. "Yeah, we had a few whiskeys. I usually don't drink--"
Lewis waved away his concern and snorted. "Oh, hell, I don't care about you letting loose on your night off. It's just that you should know--and this is my fault for not mentioning it--but the Dinello Brothers are the worst troublemakers in this county."
Steve couldn't believe it. Gentle, sweet, kissable Tad, a troublemaker? "I didn't know Tad had brothers."
"One brother--a twin named Paul. That son-of-a-bitch would shoot you as soon as look at you."
"I don't think I've ever seen Paul--that I know of."
"It wouldn't take you more than a few seconds to tell the difference between them," Black said. "Tad's all right on his own, but Paul's a hard-skulled character. You can see the evil in his eyes. He and Tad do O'Reilly's dirty work."
"But Tad doesn't work for O'Reilly anymore," Steve reminded him. "He works for Stephen Colbert now."
Lewis rolled his eyes. "As a hired gun."
"As a clerk," Steve countered defensively. "He wears a gun to protect the store and the people who shop and work there. Given what I've heard and seen of O'Reilly, I think that's a very wise idea on Colbert's part."
"Speaking of Mr. Colbert, it strikes me as odd that Paul hasn't been seen since the day you and he arrived in town, after being held up."
"You think Paul held up the stage?" Steve wished he could stop his heart from racing. Just because Paul might have been there, didn't mean Tad was involved.
"Paul and Tad," Lewis said, quickly destroying Steve's remaining hope. "You said there were two men and there's rarely one twin without the other. You also said you shot one of them. Maybe Paul's dead or Bill's hiding him somewhere."
The memory of the robbery came back to Steve in an unwanted flash. I shot the one who killed the driver. The other man never fired, but made sure to get the wounded one away in a hurry. Could the other man have been Tad? "I never got a look at either of them and their horses were muddied to hide the markings. There's no way to prove it was them."
"That's why I want you to have a few more friendly chats with our boy Tad. Maybe he'll let something slip." Lewis laughed. "Get a confession and I'll make sure you get a raise." Lewis got up and patted him on the back.
As soon as the sheriff left him alone, Steve lowered his head on the desk and was overcome by the sudden urge to cry.
To be continued…