Aiken slowed down, giving the deputy a few steps, giving Aiken a better view if needed. They continued to an undertakers store front. There were caskets in front and black drapes in the window. Aiken could tell that there was something occurring inside that kept the undertaker busy, but there was no crying coming from inside the doors.
"Marshal, this is the man.". The deputy said as they opened the door.
"Mr. ..." The marshal looked at his deputy for an answer and the deputy could only shrug.
"Aiken." Aiken smoothly answered for the suffering deputy.
"Mr. Aiken" The marshal continued.
"Aiken." The marshal was cut off.
"Aiken," the marshal shakily continued, "sorry to meet you on these conditions, but is it true that you killed this man?"
"Yes," Aiken stoically answered, tired, "and here's the casing that matches the lead you'll dig out of him." He pulled the casing out of his pocket and put it on the body laying on the table.
The marshal watched in silence, trying to understand everything before trying to get any answers, "I'm going to have to take your gun until we can see a judge."
"I'll go sit in a cell and you can take my belt, but you’re not getting my rifle." It was said matter of factly, no sense of surprise or argument.
"I need your gun." The marshal became defensive.
"I don't think you understand," Aiken continued, maintaining his tone, "I'll give you my bullets and I'll sit in one of your cells, but I'm keeping my gun. I'll go peacefully and I'll not give you any trouble. I'll wait until the judge gets into town, and then I'll sit before him as he listens to the account of the events. Or, the judge can find me in the Oriental."
"I don't need any trouble,..."
"Neither do I." Aiken cut him off.
"I'll need your gun!" Working up his courage, the marshal continued, "There's no two ways about it, but as I can tell that your willing to throw down over that piece you can either choose to place it on my desk where you can see it the entire time your in the cell or you can place it in the strongbox yourself. Either way though, I need that iron."
Aiken reached for the rifle on his hip and the marshal did the same. Was he going to draw or was he going to hand over the cut down rifle? The marshal never discovered the answer to that question.
At that moment a man walked into the undertaker's parlor. He was well dressed, a large cravat around the neck of his silk shirt was partially hidden by the paisley vest that reflected the dim light of the evening with the gold and silver thread it was embroidered with. A gold chain hung from the vest, attached to a gold pocket watch hidden in the vest pocket.
"Marshal, is this the man that saved my driver's life." He asked the marshal but couldn't take his eyes from Aiken.
"You could put it that way." The marshal slightly relaxed.
"Mister, I'd like to thank you. Not only for saving Virgil's life but for also saving the banks delivery." He extended his hand to Aiken.
Aiken looked at the banker's hand and left his at his side.
Awkwardly the banker pulled his hand back and rubbed it against his pant leg, "I'd like to offer you a job riding as the guard on our lead stagecoach."
"I don't know about that, I ain't no gun for hire." Aiken looked between the lawmen and the banker.
"You've for a gift, mister, uh?" The banker tried to persuade but got caught by the fact he still didn't know who he was talking to.
"Aiken." The deputy answered.
"Mr. Aiken,..."
"Just Aiken." Aiken interrupted.
"Aiken, I just lost my guard and need someone to replace him."
"And you don't seem to be too broken up about that." Aiken answered.
"There will be time to mourn later, I need someone to guard my coach first thing tomorrow morning." He displayed unscrupulously, "And it appears your lack of care has created a potential problem with the law in our fair city. I would imagine that we could convince the marshal that as an employee of the Wells Union Bank you were only performing your job."
The deputy missed it but Aiken caught the wink the banker made to the marshal. He shook his head, "I don't play that game. Marshal, when the judge returns to town I'll stand in front of him, but until that time I'll guard your damned coach."
Aiken walked out of the undertaker's shaking his head. It was the banker who he left with the marshal and deputy that made him uncomfortable. He understood losing your soul all too well, but losing it for the sake of gold always felt hopeless. He walked in the darkening evening back to the saloon, back to his home until the circuit judge returned to town, leaving the banker to conduct whatever clandestine business he had with the marshal.
**********
"Here's how I see it Arthur," the banker pulled a cigar from his coat pocket and handed it to the marshal who refused it as they watched Aiken through the window, "he didn't kill the boy out of cold blood and Judge Mathewson isn't going to convict him for stopping a robbery, especially of a bank that he holds stock in. And either he jumps town tonight and he's no longer your's or the city's problem or he stays and I've got a guard on the bank's coach." He turned around and could only smile as the disillusionment washed over the young deputy's face.
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