Part Eight

A trail gone cold warms up.

Part Eight

Sam pushed his way through the marshal's office located in the middle of town. With him were Light Feather and the girl.

The marshal was leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on an old oak desk. He was reading old wanted posters.

He was a young Irishman, about 22 years of age. He got the job as marshal because he could outdraw any man in this particular vicinity, plus he was a fairly good shot. Aside from being an honest and good man, he had no other special qualifications that qualified him for the job.

Seeing Sam and his two companions, he quickly jumped to his feet and backed up against the nearest wall.

“Holy bejesus mista, ya can't be bringin in the likes of them two inta me office like dhat.”

“Like what?” replied Sam.

“Like...one be cursed, and da utter be a savage. It just ain't done.”

“Well, today it is,” answered Sam.

He pulled out his papers and Deputies badge and showed them to the marshal.

The marshal stepped forward and introduced himself as Danny O'Shay. Not much else was learned about him other than he had come from the highlands of Ireland. That was fine with Sam. He wasn't looking to get a personal history. What he wanted was the name of the orphaned girl and any information about the Red Headed Demon.

“Can not say as I seen da red head, but the gurl, she be Mary Kate Anderson.

Parents died in da cold. She bout 13 now I be supposin.

People say she cursed.”

“She ain't cursed,” replied Sam.

“Don't know mista, some mighty strenge tings happ'nin' since she been here.”

Sam turned and, along with Light Feather and Mary Kate, headed toward the door.

The sheriff slammed the desk with his hand. Light Feather jumped and reached for her knife.

“Now hold dere deputy. Seems dere wuz dis red head come troo sevral weeks back.

She was travlin wit dem Pueblo. Tinks she wuz da chiefs woman. Can't be shure dough.”

Sam snickered at the thought of the Red Headed Demon settling in with a tribe of Indians. It would be the last thing she would ever do, but it made sense. If she had heard she was being hunted down where's the last place anybody would search?

Yep, maybe there was something to this.

“Day wuz a headin north me thinks, can't be sure.”

“North?” inquired Sam,

“Yep, me tinks so, north.”

Sam scratched his head then looked at Light Feather.

“Ladies, looks like we're headed north.”