March 9th - 6:58 a.m.
Last Chance City Jail
The marshal had been gone ten minutes already and Colt was not happy.
How had he gotten in here? Again...
He vaguely remembered a fight at the Last Chance Saloon a few hours earlier, but he couldn’t recall if he had won or lost or even who he had fought.
And now he was going to be late for work.
He hoped Carrie Ann would be on his side when old man Floyd tried to fire him again.
But she was not overly fond of his drinking and fighting as it was.
“Marshal?” he yelled. “Where the heck are you? You’re about as slow as a one-legged rooster in a chicken coop.”
He tried to catch a glimpse of the marshal through the open door.
Marshal Tucker stuck his head in.
“Hold your horses, cowpoke,” he spat. “My deputy just walked in. Apparently Rango Starr is dead.”
“Rango Starr?” Colt repeated.
“Yep,” the marshal replied. “The same Rango Starr you were in a fight with last night. Good thing you were locked up. Otherwise you’d be... well, locked up...”
“What happened?” Colt asked as he grasped the bars.
“Elvis just told me someone tore half his throat out,” the marshal replied.
Elvis Parsley was the sheriff’s deputy. He was at least two bullets shy of a fully-loaded six gun. Maybe more. Half the time he was definitely hitting on an empty chamber.
“Are you hard of hearing son?” the marshal asked. “Someone or something took a huge chunk out of Rango Starr's neck. He didn't make it. Elvis just left to take the body over to the ice house so he don’t start stinkin’ up the town.”