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Thomas glanced from him to Wyatt, obviously confused. Wyatt stared at Justin. "I heard the name but didn't believe it. If someone had told me we were going to meet in a sheriff's office, I would have guessed you'd be on the other side of the bars."
Justin smiled. Wyatt was right. After all the trouble he'd caused in town and the reason he'd been run off, it made sense to assume that. "I almost was," he said. "But I've learned from my mistakes. I've been a deputy over five years. I've studied law, even been offered a turn at being a judge. My qualifications were enough for this town. I don't give a damn about whether or not they're good enough for you. I just want to know where you stand. I won't watch my back. Either you're with me, or you find yourself another job."
Wyatt relaxed and dropped his hand to his side. "Take a good look at this man, Thomas. He broke my nose when we were both twelve. Did it again when I was fifteen. All right, Justin. I've learned my lesson, too. I'll work with you."
Justin's gaze narrowed. That was too easy. He didn't trust Wyatt.
Wyatt shrugged. "I know what you're thinking. It's not only your besting me in a fight. We all know you didn't beat up that woman. If you'd stuck around long enough, you would have found out for yourself that you were cleared of the accusation."
Justin settled on a corner of his desk. "No one else was willing to wait around to find out I was innocent," he said. "They were all anxious to attend a hanging. Leaving seemed best."
Wyatt nodded. He walked two steps closer, then held out his hand. "My sister admitted to me that she was sweet on you. Told me she'd cornered you after a barn dance. Said she kissed you, and, ah, made it clear she wouldn't say no. She told me you sent her back to her mama and warned her if she was foolish enough to make that offer to another man, she would find herself in more trouble than she could handle. I'm obliged to you for that."
Justin took the man's hand and they shook slowly, measuring each other. He still didn't trust Wyatt, but he was willing to give him a chance.
Thomas still stared at the two of them, bewildered. "Sir, I don't understand."
"You will." Justin slapped him on the shoulder. "I used to live here. I was a hell-raiser and troublemaker. My mother worked in a saloon, but she wasn't a whore. I never knew my father and my parents didn't marry. That makes me a bastard. Some would be happy to tell you that's not the only thing, either. I work hard and I expect the same from my men. I hold on to my temper." Except around Megan, he thought suddenly and had to fight back a grin. "I don't allow drinking on duty, or gambling ever. Aside from that, what you do with your own time is your business. Any questions?"
Wyatt shook his head. Thomas gaped at him, apparently overwhelmed by the information and instructions.
"Thomas? You have a problem with any of that?"
"No, sir."
"Good." Justin took his seat, then lowered the box containing his belongings to the floor. "Anything been going on in town that I should know about, Wyatt?"
Wyatt walked over to his desk and picked up a couple of papers. "I was writing up a report for you. Everything has been quiet around here." He handed Justin the sheets. "Except for the murder last month."
"Murder?"
Wyatt shrugged. "Some saloon girl was found beaten to death on the edge of town."
Justin stared at the other man. The coldness in his stomach quickly spread to the rest of his body. He was careful to
keep his face expressionless as he studied the details of the case. There weren't many. According to the report, Roberts, the previous sheriff, had investigated for a couple of days and had concluded that one of the many drifters who had been in town at that time had been responsible for the crime.
The hairs on the back of Justin's neck stood up. Something wasn't right. "What kind of sheriff was Roberts?" he asked without looking up.
"Decent. He kept the town clean."
Not clean enough, Justin thought, fighting the ghosts that threatened to suffocate him. For a second, he entertained the notion that Roberts had ended the investigation because he'd been bought off. No way to prove that. But he didn't like any of it—not the murder, the brief nature of the investigation or the fact that the victim was a saloon girl.
