If the saloon was the biggest building in Iowa then the Mayor's residence was the second. As it was explained to Jim, the mayor usually saw the town people in his office but the rest of the building was his private property. "I can already see what you're talking about," Jim said, eyeing two rough-looking men on the porch. Probably the mayor's men.

Sid jumped off the horse tipping his hat to the two guarding men.

"Howdy, boys. Mr. Davis is waiting for us. Here is the new sheriff," he spoke simply. Not minding the men trying to look intimidating. Even somewhat playing on the 'drunk deputy' role before them, which he didn't do while talking to Jim. Tricky fucker that deputy was, knowing all but playing dumb.

Luckily Jim decided to get off Prince on the other side, so the horse's body more or less hid the slightly unsure moves while getting back on the ground. Why couldn't this Mr. Davis come out to meet them there? Seriously! He could've stayed in the saddle and spare another effort to get back on Prince after the talk. But oh well, life was kinda unfair. The young man has already learned that lesson. And from the look of it, it was going to stay like that in this rough town.

Putting on his best poker face, he tipped his hat to the men too, but otherwise stayed silent, trying to use his height too to look more respectable as he followed Sid into the impressive building with lots of nice wooden, stone and shiny surfaces. It reminded Jim of some of the places in NYC that he had visited during his life. It told him that Mr. Davis indeed liked money and comfort.

As they walked inside, Mr. Davis stood there before an impressive dark wooden desk in all his glory. He had longer black hair and a short beard. A tailor-made elegant black suit and a golden chain watch completed his look. His small dark eyes radiated sneakiness behind the friendly smile.

Mayor Davis

"Ahh. The new Sheriff. Nice to meet you! This town is in great need of the law," the man said somewhat lisping and not announcing his name. Like some highness he expected to be known or someone other to do that for him.

The deputy made a meaningful side-glimpse at Jim, like saying 'see? That's what I was taking about' but to Davis he forced a smile stepping between the two men.

"It's my honor to represent Mr. Davis, Iowa town's Mayor. Mr. Davis, this is Sheriff Root. Just arrived," Sid spoke rather sober and intelligent. On purpose announcing Jim's name and rank at the same level as the mayor's.

The new sheriff noticed that look and sent and understanding one back at Sid then turned his attention to the smug-looking mayor. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Davis," he said shortly, not really good with small talk, but he tried to look confident as he offered his big hand – that was not hardened by callouses like would be expected from a sheriff or someone doing physical work. It was no surprise though, given his previous desk job.

As they shook each other's hand firmly, Jim's hazel eyes narrowed a bit as he tried to size up the man in front of him. Now that he had some background info, he could see the signs and wasn't so lost like he usually would be.

"You have a nice town here. I'm looking forward to keep it safe and working with you," Jim added, not really sure what else should be said in such a situation.

"Certainly, Mr. Root. If you have any concerns or questions, please don't hesitate to contact me. The sheriff is always welcomed on my doorstep when it comes to the safety of our people and property. Especially when our... unfortunate neighbours, the Indians try to stir up things for our peaceful town."

~~~

Meanwhile not far from the mayor and the sheriff, in the small Iowan Indian village the three warriors arrived from their patrol.

In the Chief's tent Corey found the head hunter smoking pipe with his father. The tall muscular guy, named Mick Thomson was a friend of the Indians and often stopped by to bring news.

The Chief, a grey-haired warrior called Shawn by most, nodded towards his son to join them.

"We found everything fine, father," Coyote said raising his right hand up showing his palm as a greeting to the bounty man.

"Good. Take the horses to the woman, son," Shawn said and looked after his half-breed kid as he walked out to do as he was told.

"I'm worried about him sometimes, Mr. Mick. Fate of the ones like him is often mysterious and hard," the Chief sighed taking the pipe and sucked on it.

"You mean being half-blood or your two-spirit people? Though, I guess the fact that he is both doesn't really help. You told me that two-spirit people are closer to the spirits and are more connected to that world. And considered sacred. The spirits will bring his pair into his way," Mick thought out loud. The nice herbs in the pipe were buzzing in his system and made him calm and maybe also wiser. "But there are many changes in town now. What your son said about the east wind... A new Sheriff arrived today early noon from New York City. Gonna meet him tomorrow morning. Hopefully he will be a sane person with reason and not bow into corruption."

"We all hope till we live Mr. Mick," Shawn said giving the pipe back to the other man.

   
Mr. Mick Thomson                               Chief Shawn

~~~

Back in town the short visit by the mayor was over, leaving Jim with more confusion and bad feelings about the guy. Just how far does his hand reach? That was something he was planning to find out later. But now they had to go and meet with some of the other more important people of the town.

Luckily they could leave the horses in front of the mayor's house since their next stop was the nearby bank and they went on foot. That gave some time for the new Sheriff to look at and memorize more faces of the people among whom he'd have to live from now on.

As they passed the saloon, he heard music and laughter coming from inside and for a moment he longed for a strong drink, but that thought was wiped out of his mind as a couple of women and men peeked out or outright stared at him from the porch. He tipped his hat to the ladies then the men, but otherwise followed Sid to the bank.

There were two people sitting behind a bigger barred window, writing some administrative things down into big books. Then a well-dressed bearded man with glasses and a hard hat on hurried down the stairs, checking his golden watch with a chain to check the time.

Mr. Jones

"Time is money, ladies. Keep working while I run some errands," he said to the women behind the window and headed towards the door when he noticed the two men of law standing there. "Ah. Gentlemen. How can I help you?"

"Err Mr. Jones! I brought the new Sheriff to meet you. He is Mr. Jim Root. Jim Sheriff, this is Mr. Craig Jones, the bank man of the town," Sid announced. Making the banker peek at the tall young sheriff over his glasses.

"Nice to meet you! My workers got everything ready for your account. When you have time, but preferably tomorrow morning you should sign the papers. Time is money, you know. You will get your salary through us."

"Nice to meet you too. And it's good to know you have things under control," Jim said after shaking hands with the busy-looking banker. Although Jim wondered in such a small town what might make him look so busy and short on time.

"I see you're a man of many tasks. We won't hold you up. I'm sure we'll meet soon," Jim added then exchanged a look with Sid if it was okay for them to leave since Mr. Jones looked like he was supposed to be somewhere else already.

"I appreciate that. Time is money, you know," he repeated himself. From that Jim realized that probably that was his life philosophy.

When Sid nodded, Jim followed him outside and took his pipe out of his pocket to stuff and light it, taking a few puffs. "Nervous little fella, isn't he?"

"Who is fishing in stormy water often gets stirred up in many ways," Sid shrugged and fetched a small bottle from his jacket and drank from it. One might think Sid has been raised by Indians for always making such cryptic comments. But with a man like him anything could be possible.

"We can lead the horses over to the saloon. There you can get on Prince without people watching. No offence. Yer get into it. Just tryna help, Mr. Jim Sheriff."

"You're probably right about that," Jim hummed watching as Mr. Jones disappeared from their sight then he took a deep breath. He really should start practicing this whole horse thing if he wanted to look more confident and less like the "young and innocent" kinda bait his pretty features and long hair suggested. He was... more than that, but in other ways than these rough people of Iowa.

Anyways, Jim thanked Sid again and managed to get on Prince with only a little effort before they headed back. He also admitted to himself that he kinda liked Sid's unusual way of addressing him. It was kinda cute.

"So..." Jim sat down on the only chair in front of the deputy's desk, putting two relatively clean glasses down on the table, right next to the brand new bottle of whiskey he'd purchased during their brief look around in the saloon before they headed back to the sheriff's office. "Tell me more about these Indians and the fate of the previous sheriff. I think there's more to those than you told me before."

Sid's eyes shined up from the bottle of booze and he licked his lips and nodded as Jim poured his glass full.

"Cheers to that Mr. Jim. And to you. Long life!" he added and drowned a good half of the strong liquor. "The Ioways lived here all around this north east land. They are Siouan related. Not as violent, though. The Chief has a half-blood son and had the widow of one of the farmers for a wife. They’re guarding their remained land's border and many speaks English well. For about a year or so more and more fights happened between the farm peeps and the Iowans. Small shit issues on both sides and none of them admitting who's done them," Sid explained with a shrug.

"The last sheriff and I heard rumors about some gangs causing it all to cause feud. And the old sheriff did found somethin' cause he left this note before we found him on the church yard with a cut throat," the deputy pulled a paper out of his pocket, giving it to Jim. The messy and clumsy – clearly written in a hurry – handwriting read 'Keep the connections, Sidney. Don't tell no one just who is trustworthy. I went to Washington to make sure of some construction plans. Keep Prince in shape.'

Jim drank his fair share too from the first glass, but no one could blame him after such a day. It was already more adventure for him than what he was used to in his much calmer life. Damn, he was a god damn sheriff now. And he had no clue what that meant.

It was a good reason to drink with this strange but friendly guy on the other side of the desk. Either way he listened to what he was saying about the Indians and the previous sheriff and even took the note to read it. To be honest, it didn't tell him much yet since he was so new to this all and his head started getting dizzy from all the new information too.

"So he was executed, probably because he got too close to something. I assume you want to investigate his death if you haven't already. I mean... I don't know if the culprit was caught or not. Let me guess, the Indians were blamed?"

Sid rolled his eyes dramatically and snorted. "Of course. Who else would be. The poor man was even scalped to make it sure the Ioways get the blame. I do not believe that at all, Jim Sheriff. And my friend, a head hunter and I’ve been trying to find out things. You will meet him too, Mr. Jim Sheriff. Now I have to go ‘round the town. I suggest you try some rest," Sid stood up with a nod.

"That was the easier way, I guess... I mean. I'm sure," he cleared his throat before drinking some more from the strong whiskey. It was already warming his tummy, which was a welcomed feeling. "Seems like we'll have a busy day tomorrow too. Okay, go do what you have to do. I'll be around," he nodded to the other man then watched him leave.

He poured another big glass of the amber liquid to himself and tried not to panic. He had to stand his ground, he thought and stumbled a bit as he stood up. Well, better than that.

He decided to distract himself before bed and found himself wandering to the stables in the back, drink in hand as he approached the now unharnessed horses.

"Hey, Prince. What a day, huh?" he chuckled dryly while patting the nose of the horse and even let him lick into the rest of his whiskey. "You could use a drink too, huh? At least you won't have to uncover a mysterious murder and keep peace between us and the Ioways. You're one lucky bastard, did you know that?" he grinned at the horse who huffed in response as if understanding what he was saying. And who knew? Maybe he did. Jim wouldn't be surprised about such a thing any more. Not in a crazy town like this.

~~~

It was sundown at the Indian village too. The ginger young warrior, followed by his guard, was smoking some dried bird bones in the changed East wind. Being close to the spirit world was natural for him ever since he was born. And learning from the tribe's shaman only improved his skills to feel into what may come. Among his people Corey counted sacred, a person who was attracted to his same sex. A two-spirited person who was watched and guided closely by the holies.

V-man's personal duty was to keep the young man safe. And man, it was a full time duty even for such an experienced and dedicated warrior. The 'Coyote' often had his head in the clouds and followed his instincts more than reason. This feud was bothering the red-haired Indian more than anyone else from the tribe. Probably because his pale-skinned late mother. He really was between worlds in many meanings.

"Two days," he said to his guard, looking in the direction of the white men's town. "Two days at sunrise. The spirits have spoken," he added with a small smile.

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