Tea, Biscuits and Striking Nerves., Sheriff Dawson Yates and Madam Burgess.

[Dawson Yates]

The tea was actually lukewarm, but satisfying to the lips and tongue. Ice blue eyes watched his index finger trace the outside of the cup’s rim. Sheriff Dawson Yates sat as a gentleman, raising his free hand to bring a small biscuit to his mouth, biting down on a small morsel.

The room was pristine, but still hinted at a time of old. Lamps, window shades, even a rustic globe of Earth-That-Was decorated the study room in which they occupied. The Widow was a frighteningly strong woman, but not in her physical appearance. It was her spirit. An undying demeanor for riches, control and power: three nasty ingredients coursing through this woman’s veins.

She raised the teacup to her lips elegantly, bleeding her red lipstick onto the cup’s brim.

“I hope some of our locals have welcomed you kindly, Sheriff Yates.” She murmured, her voice slightly reverberating around the inside of the teacup.

“With open arms, Madam Burgess. I already hold this little town in high regard. You’ve got hard workers here … dedicated. Good families.” He added.

“And if you are to prove your dedication like the rest, I’d like you to re-investigate Rance’s death at the Heart of Gold. Perhaps a fresh insight would provide some new leads.”

“That happened a long time ago, Madam. I’m no detective, and I’m sure if any are at fault, any evidence has been destroyed or misplaced. You’d be beating a dead horse, I reckon.” He wasn’t as low as a gun hand, but not as high as an investigator. He knew his strengths and his place among the great scheme of things.

“You wouldn’t want the citizens of Burgesstown to suffer the same fate as my husband. Losing a whole town to crime and poverty, my, it would almost be like losing someone all over again. Like your wife, just magnified.” Her voice deepened while accentuating those last two words.

It struck a nerve, showing in Dawson’s tight grip of the tea cup. He even found it hard to swallow that last drop of the tea. His lips pursed together, hands drifting to the small end table to deposit the tea cup and the rest of the half-eaten biscuit. He rose to his full height now, but not approaching the Widow. He held his head high; something that wasn’t very often seen this far out in the Black.

“Madam Burgess, I appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me, but don’t you dare think for a moment I’d discriminate when it comes to protecting this town. If they’re in Burgesstown, they have me. And I swear by the sand beneath my feet that if you ever try to make me choose sides again, you or your money won’t be able to stop me. I always side with the law.”

He made his way for the door, finding his hat along the way. The Widow had stood up behind him, stomping one foot in a vain attempt at getting his attention.

“You are turning your back on justice, Sheriff Yates.” She spoke loud enough for the servants to hear in the next room.

“No, I’m looking it right in the face, Madam Burgess. I’m here to do my job.” He bowed his head slightly to her, before placing his hat tightly upon his head. “Thank you for the tea.”

The damage had been done. She’d underestimated his skills in digging up old files left dormant in the Sheriff’s Office. He’d known well enough to do his homework.

He mounted his horse outside, rubbing its mane for a few moments before clicking with his lips. He was off, kicking up some dust behind him, but enough to hinder Widow Burgess’s view from her window. With a light slap of the reins, the horse developed into a fast gallop. He was off to inspect a particular card tournament going on.

[Danton]

"Did you hear that, Danton?"

Ryforth Danton stepped out of the doorway of the Retiring Room and into the Parlor. His habitual brown suit, as usual, seemed to hang a little long, and his brown leather shoes were in need of polish, but his bright blue eyes were keen as they traced the Lady Juniper Burgess from her neatly coiffed hair to her high-buttoned shoes. "I heard, Juniper."

Without preamble, Danton refilled the Sherrif's delicate teacup and spiked it with a splash from the brandy sniffter on the sideboard, "He's going to be a complication. One we didn't need."

"I trust you, Danton." Juniper Burgess stood and stepped towards him, hands wrung together piously, "Since Rance ... disappeared... it seems this entire town is out to destroy me."

"You're being ridiculous, Juniper." He murmured the platitudes soothingly, although he was well aware that they both recognized the deceptions that they both played; he the trusted old friend of the deceased husband, and she, the lonely helpless widow, "Look at all the good you've done. The factory, the school, the new tax system. Everyone is grateful."

"But you believe me, don't you, Danton? That those women murdered Rance?"

Of course I do, I was there. But you will never know that. "We have no evidence, Juniper. And Rance had threatened the girls life repeatedly, in public. Even if she possibly could have killed him, it could be seen as self-defense."

"Now, I have to run on back to the office. I've messages to send, work to tend to." Danton tipped his brown bowler hat and tucked it onto his bald head, "I'll swing back by tomorrow. Those new Gubernatorial directives still need be signed."

"You will keep an eye on him for me, won't you?" Juniper rose and saw him to the door.

"Yes, of course. Don't worry so much." He paused and smiled at her, emphasizing his words, "Don't worry!"

Don't worry about a thing, Mrs. Burgess. Mr. Ryforth Danton knows what side of the bread the butter is on. And now, to send those messages to ensure it stayed well buttered....