Joe drew out a sheet of paper, dipped a pen in the ink bottle and began writing. Kelsey turned over and went to sleep again.
Joe finished writing, folded the paper and walked out of the office. Just south of his office was the old two-story frame-building court-house, and as Joe started to enter the front door he met Jim Wheeler and Angus McLaren, chairman of the board of county commissioners.
McLaren was a big, raw-boned Scot who owned a general store in Kelo. McLaren, Ed Merrick and Ross Layton, of Ransome, composed the board of commissioners.
Joe Rich stopped short as he faced Jim Wheeler. For possibly five seconds the HJ cattleman stared at the sheriff of Tumbling River, and then, without a word, he struck Joe square in the face, knocking him through the doorway, where Joe went to his haunches on the sidewalk, dazed, bleeding from his nose and mouth.
Quickly the big Scotsman stepped in front of Wheeler, grasping him with both hands.
“Stop it, Jim!” he ordered.
Wheeler stepped back, his face crimson with anger, but saying nothing.
Joe did not get up, nor did he even look at Wheeler, who stepped past McLaren and went slowly up the street.
“Are ye much hurt, Joe?” asked McLaren not unkindly. He knew all about what had happened the night before.
Joe did not reply. He got slowly to his feet and leaned against the building, while he drew out the folded sheet of paper. Then he unpinned the silver star from the bosom of his soiled shirt, pinned it to the sheet of paper and handed it to McLaren. Then he turned and went slowly down the street.