Free Standoff in Santa Fe by J. R. Roberts

said?” the black marshal asked.
    â€œI guess I don’t have any reason to doubt him,” Clint said. “After all, I caught three locals eyeing Bat Masterson, figuring to try to rob him.”
    â€œI guess the temptation to get a reputation is too big for some people to handle.”
    â€œAs evidenced by their deaths,” Clint said.
    They reached the sheriff’s office and Burle stopped at the door.
    â€œAs I said, my deputies are young,” he said to them. “And inexperienced.”
    â€œWhy not hire more experienced men?” Reeves asked.
    â€œI had two experienced deputies,” Burle said, “but they were both killed earlier this year. I have two . . . boys waiting inside.”
    â€œWell,” Reeves said, “let’s have at them, then.”

TWENTY-TWO
    The two young deputies were impressed to meet not only Bass Reeves, well known as a deputy marshal in the court of the Hanging Judge, but the Gunsmith, as well.
    â€œThat’s Thad,” Burle said, “Thad Burnett, and Billy Cunningham.”
    Both deputies nodded.
    â€œBoys, Marshal Reeves and Mr. Adams have agreed to help us keep the peace, as long as we have so many visitors in town for the wake.”
    â€œThat’s great,” Deputy Cunningham said.
    Burle went to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out two badges. He handed one each to Clint and Reeves.
    â€œI propose you each work in tandem with my deputies,” he said. “They can learn a lot from each of you. Just making rounds together.”
    â€œSounds good,” Clint said.
    â€œI’ll put this in my pocket,” Reeves said. “No point in wearing two badges.”
    Clint hesitated, then pinned the badge on.
    â€œClint, you can team with Thad,” Burle said. “He’ll show you his rounds.”
    â€œFine.”
    â€œDeputy Reeves?”
    â€œMe and Billy, right?” Reeves slapped Billy on the back. Clint knew how hard that big hand could hit, even in camaraderie.
    The four deputies left the sheriff’s office.
    â€œI’ll see you at the Crystal later,” Clint said to Reeves, who nodded and followed his young deputy on his rounds.
    â€œWell, Thad,” Clint said. “Lead the way.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    As they walked, Thad asked, “Is there likely to be a lot of trouble, Mr. Adams?”
    â€œCall me Clint,” Clint said, “and with the personalities we have in town, and the lack of judgment your locals have already shown, I’m sure of it.”
    â€œWe’ve heard that John Wesley Hardin and Clay Alison are in town, as well as Killin’ Jim Miller,” Thad said. “Are they likely to start killin’?”
    â€œNot for no reason,” Clint said. “But it’s likely that someone will try to push them. And that could even happen with men like Bat Masterson and Heck Thomas.”
    â€œBut they’ve been lawmen themselves,” Thad said.
    â€œThat doesn’t mean they can’t be pushed,” Clint said. “And when it comes to getting shot, nobody just stands by and lets it happen.”
    â€œNot even you?”
    â€œEspecially not me.”
    *   *   *
    Craddock picked out a likely-looking saloon girl and accompanied her up to her room.
    Bat Masterson, Luke Short, and Heck Thomas watched him go up.
    â€œI guess he really isn’t interested in the wake,” Heck said.
    â€œHe’s probably been on the trail for a long time,” Bat said. “We all know what that’s like.”
    â€œYeah,” Heck said, “a beer, a poke, and then a steak.”
    â€œNot necessarily in that order,” Luke said, and they laughed.
    The three friends turned and faced the bar.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Bat asked.
    â€œAbout what?” Heck asked.
    â€œHorn.”
    â€œIs he a killer?” Luke asked.
    â€œTom will kill if he feels it’s necessary,”