The saloon was full, but then the work-week was over for most, and there were coins to spend -- or gamble away -- and songs to sing, and drinks to down. It was a rough-and-tumble crowd, but generally well-behaved. Sheriff Black recognized most of them: Eduardo, Isabelle, and Juan, who worked the old Darling farm together; Sam Maddox, the town's cooper, who doubled as a scrivener for those as couldn't write or read; the mayor, Missus Laura, better known as Ma'am, watching over her tavern from her table on the second floor balcony.
She saw him come in, stood, studied him form a moment, then gestured for him to come up.
Sheriff Black had no intention of making a scene; if she'd ignored him, he'd have ignored her. If there were issues to discuss, they could hash it out at the the next City Council meeting. But with an unmistakable summons...
He found the back stairs, mounted them, and joined her at her table.
"What can I offer you, Sheriff?" she asked. "I've had word there's been a murder. Your deputy wanted to know if I'd seen any likely suspects. I have not."
"There was a murder," he confirmed. "I was hoping to learn more before I filled you in, but since you already know: someone was killed, very late last night. Ripped apart, or nearly so. Gravedigger's with Doc, looking at the body."
"That's good," she said. "There like t'be any more trouble from it?"
Augustus Black resisted the urge to shrug. "Depends on how fast we find whatever did it, or if it moves on without causin' any further trouble."
"Well then," said the mayor. "Carry on. Appreciate y'watching over my saloon tonight."
The sheriff lifted a finger to his forehead. "Ma'am."
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