[center][h2]The Mystery of the Bovine Butcher- Day one, Afternoon[/h2][/center]
[center][b]Deputy Carter[/b][/center]
[center][i]Sheriff's Office[/i][/center]





The early morning sun was warm on the brown leather of Deputy Carter’s knee calf length duster. Thatch’s reins were slung over his left shoulder; leading the horse behind him. All too often he forgot what it was like to simply walk the streets of Job. Once upon a time he had come here; a run away, outcast, pariah. When Henry had first set foot in Job he had thought it was merely another town on his run to California. The Transcontinental railroad was going to lose its race against the Pacific Railroad and he wanted to be on the winning side for once. So much for Southern honor and doing the [i]The Right thing[/i]. 

Henry’s clanking spurs marked his progress down the main street of Job. The Sheriff’s office was closer to the outside edge of town but his march through the main street took him past all the usual sights: Dainties, The Silver Strike, The House of Angels, The Western Union, the list went on as Henry continued on his walk. As his eyes scanned the faces on the wooden walkways in front of the buildings he avoided the handful of stares. No doubt the news of the dead cow had gone ahead of him and given how things like that spread like wildfire in Job there would be more than a few people that would come by the office. Those who were curious, those who thought they could help, the generally scared. No doubt Abraham was already in the process of running people off while he waited on his Deputy’s report. 

Looking behind him as the sun crept across the sky Henry sighed. It was going to be a long day still and already he felt as though he’d done a full days work. Hiking the reigns of Thatch further up on his shoulder Henry continued towards the office. Hopefully this would be resolved without much more blood shed, but something about the carnage told Henry that was not going to be the case. With a final heavy sigh Henry reached the front of the Sheriff’s office. Taking Thatch’s reigns he tired the horse to the hitching post in front of the office. Ascending the two steps of the front of the office he squinted back out into the open street. Scanning it he adjusted his hat down to shade his eyes. 

Some days the whole damn town seemed like maybe it might actually be alive and drawing breath. A great sleeping monster that had lured all this poor solves here to die. Today was one of those days. 

Turning the Deputy walked into the Sheriff’s Office. 

[hr]

Deputy Carter had been quite surprised to find that Abraham had not been in the office when he arrived. No doubt the eccentric older Sheriff had gone to attend to some business. Collecting a stack of mail and telegraphs that no doubt had been sitting for a good three days Henry settled into his chair at one of the Office’s two desks. 

Setting his hat on the table next to his feet Henry frowned at the first Telegraph. It was another warrant. The Marshal’s periodically dispersed them to the towns in a county that had a telegraph station. Sometimes they got lucky and caught however they were looking for but it was pretty rare. This one looked like it was from back east which seemed odd but Henry dismissed it as he continued to sort through the mail. 

 [hr]

Three hours passed as Henry sorted through the majority of the mail and other logistical things that required the Sheriff’s attention. There was no doubt that Abraham had left so that Henry would deal with the mail and telegrams. 

Setting the last one down the Deputy finally put his feet up on the desk and dug in the bottom drawer of his desk before producing a bottle. Uncorking it he took a long draft from it before settling in for a long contemplative moment. Really he needed to see if Abraham was going to be back in a timely fashion. Before the end of the day he needed to ride out to the Garcia Ranch and the McClancy ranch to see if either of them had experienced a similar problem recently. 

Taking a second pull from the bottle, Henry finally returned it to the bottom drawer and began the process of writing responses to two of the letters. Both of them were to the Marshals, in the past month Abraham and he had dealt with two of the Warrants which had come across their desk. One of the men, a train robber from back east had wandered into town and tried to make off with a payroll from the Jackson-Leeland mine. The poor fool hadn’t gotten far before a couple of miners had gotten their hands on him. Anthony Jackson had shot the bastard in the face himself when he’d been brought into the mining office down the slopes from the entrance of the mine. While Leeland was the kind of person who would have let Abraham deal out justice, Jackson was someone else entirely. A self made man to compliment his partner’s history of noble upbringing. It really hadn’t surprised Henry that Anthony had dispatched with the problem personally.

Following that Abraham and Henry had been attempting to locate another warrant who had come across their desk. The evil son of a bitch was some sort of cannibal freak who liked to eat the intestines of children. Deputy Carter had tracked him to an abandoned shack in the hills above Job. The two of them had exchanged lead for the better part of a half hour before Abraham had arrived. After the Sheriff’s arrival Abraham had given the man one chance to surrender himself. When the murderer had responded by trying to shoot the Sheriff, Abraham had told him to cover the front of the shack. Henry was still not sure exactly what had happened since Abraham had told him that when he’d gotten the drop on the Murder the man had pulled a knife on the Sheriff and the two had fought for control of it. It seemed like a plausible explanation given the stab wounds all of the man's body. The funny thing was that Henry had never managed to find the knife after twenty or so minutes before Abraham had told him to come off it. 

Henry continued to write his letters and contemplate as the sun crept past its zenith in the sky.