Lucas lingered near the corrals edge, some sixty feet away from the end of the porch where J.D. and Tiffany set in the early afternoon breeze. With a quilt neatly folded over his legs and the old flint lock rifle he near always carried restin' in his lap; He looked not like the man he was, but neither like the man many folks were whisperin' about.
Miss Tiffany was always near J.D., tending to him with the love n respect of an oldest daughter. The only time she left his side was when her son had need fer his mother. She'd become a sight more fidgety, a tad to thin and almighty quiet. She mostly avoided eye contact with Luke, save fer one long look while she nursed John. Luke had smiled softly and was rewarded with the same, first one he'd seen from 'er since his return.
Sheriff Rivers had come calling an hour or so after sunup. Linda sent him toward the half open door in the loft.
"Hello in the loft."
Lucas, near finished with his shaving after his tub bath, stepped into the early morning light from the sliding door below the loft.
"Mornin' Sheriff."
Relaxed and slow, the sheriff took out a fresh store-bought plug of tobacco...
"Mornin' Lucas. Good ta see ya back."
... n bit off a corner, keeping his hands chest high 'fore lowering 'em to rest on the saddles horn.
"How's J.D.?"
"Miss Debra says he's gittin' better every day."
"Good to hear... Good to hear."
Luke could see the questions twistin' up inside the man. He let the awkward silence hang a bit in the slow warming morning air.
"There gonna be anymore shootin' Lucas?"
Direct, not like the city. Luke only half smiled.
"You might have some answers fer that Sherriff. I still ain't figured out all the particulars yet."
Luke took a moment, finishing with some shaving soap still on his face.
"Yur not asking about last evenin'?"
The nervous man rolled his shoulders n slowly shook his head.
"Every man there called it fair Lucas... most even justified."
Luke studied the man J.D. had often called friend.
"I appreciate that Bertrum... When Judge Pickett due again?"
"Any time after next Tuesday... No later then Friday"
Luke turned on his heel and headed into the barn. Bert Rivers took note of the Walker Colt holstered in the center of his back. Luke stopped and looked over his shoulder.
"This call just business Bert or you gonna step down and share a word?"
The aging man who only took to sheriffin' for the thirty-two dollars a month and a place to sleep while he set his small spread right weren't comfert'ble. No sir, not comfert'ble at all... 'Cept it was plain that Lucas Blake was not done talking yet.
This young man were no longer 'the shadow' as he were often referred to; always near the two girls n watchful n when he weren't there, with J.D. n listenin'. No Sir. This was J.D.s own 'adopted' son. And if you weren't sure that he were not pleased what he's found comin' back home, you'd be a gawd damned fool.
In the still cool barn, Luke rinsed his face n slipped on his hot ironed linen shirt.
"Tell me 'bout Jack Seasons."
Fading grey eyes met Lukes stormy green ones.
"You knowed he were always a bully Lucas. Started throwin' his weight around a bit more after Miss Tiffany n him run off to get married... Then figured he was bull of the woods after J.D. took ill."
Bert Rivers took special note of the long, nimble fingers workin' the only bone buttons he'd ever seen on a mans shirt.
"What about three fingered Mike?"
It were the way Luke askt made the older man shift just a bit.
"Ran into a little money I'm told... added a room to the back of the livery n 'nother corral. Prettied up the place a bit. Rumor has it he got one of those mail order brides coming from somewhere in the east."
The tooled black leather settled low on Lukes hips.
"The man's a liar and a thief. I'll be seein' him Friday when I bring the family to town."
The Walker Colt slid easily into its holster. Luke tied it down.
"I hope you'll be there when I do Bert."
The words were out before the Sherriff could stop'em.
"That'll end it?"
The black coat swung through the air, slipping over his arms and then settlin' nicely on Lukes shoulders. The Sheriff saw the tightening of the young man's jaw.
"What's happened to the ranch Bert? Where's at least one hand."
The words were stoney-cold.
"Why is the family that took me in and been a friend to near every man, woman or child with-in sixty miles strugglin' Bert."
Sherriff Bertrum Rivers needed to spit, empty his plug filled cheek of sour tobacco juice. He didn't dare do it now.
"When Miss Tiffany started seein' Jack, folks around here wondered why J.D. didn't put a stop to it. Then they run off n come back married. Seasons made it a show 'bout having Miss Tiffany as his wife... Spent a lot of time in town, drinking a byt to much n on more n one occasion... M'ybe saying things he shouldn't. You knew the man Lucas..."
He did.
"And no one said a word."
Luke's words were cold. Hard. The Sherriff actually swallowed the foul liquid.
"W-weren't their place most figured."