floor.
On a three-legged stand in the corner was a grayspeckled basin and a
water jug next to the piece of cake the sheriff's wife had left for
him. The only other adornment was the black spider crawling up the
painted stones of the wall. There was another one hanging from its web
in the barred windowsill high up by the ceiling.
Cole was over six feet tall, but in order to look out, he would have to
stand on a chair. There weren't any inside the cell. He could see a
fragment of the sky, though, and like his temporary home, it too was
gray.
The color fit his mood. He was in a no-win situation. He couldn't
very well shoot Norton, since his wife had nursed him back to health.
The sheriff had probably saved his life, as well, by knocking him out
before the gunslingers had challenged him. Cole remembered the
influenza had left him weak and shaky. He would have died in a
gunfight all right, but damn it all, did Norton have to hit him so
hard? His head still felt as if it had been split in two.
He reached up to rub the knot in the back of his neck, and his right
arm bumped against cold metal. He looked down, then froze when he
realized what he was staring at. A gold case dangled from a chain
someoneţRyan most likelyţhad clipped to the pocket of his leather
vest.
The son of a bitch had finally given him his treasure back. He gently
lifted the precious disk into the palm of his hand and stared at it a
long minute before opening it. The compass was made of brass, not
gold, but it was still finely crafted. The face was white, the letters
red, the dial black. He removed it from its case, smiling as he
watched the dial wobble back and forth before pointing north.
His Mama Rose was going to be pleased to know that he had finally
gotten the gift she'd purchased for him over a year ago. It was a
handsome treasure. He couldn't find a nick or a scratch anywhere.
Ryan had obviously taken good care of it, he grudgingly admitted. He
still wanted to shoot the bastard for keeping it so long, but he knew
he couldn't if he wanted to stay alive a little longerţkilling marshals
was frowned on in the territory, no matter what the reasonţand so Cole
decided to settle on punching him in the nose instead.
Carefully tucking the compass into his vest pocket, he glanced over at
the pitcher and decided to splash some water on his face. His gaze
settled on the piece of cake, and he focused on it while he tried to
sort fact from dream Why were they eating cake in his cell? The
question seemed too complicated to think about now. He stood up so he
could stretch his knotted muscles and was about to take off his vest
when his sleeve caught on something sharp. Pulling his arm free, he
glanced down to see what was jabbing him.
His hands dropped to his knees as he fell back on the cot and stared
down at his left shoulder in disbelief. He was stupefied It had to be
a jokeţbut someone had a real warped sense of humor. Then Sheriff
Norton's words came back to him. The appointment had come through .
.