main | table of contents Salamander Hill Copyright © 2004, S. Y. Affolee 7 Sheriff's Warning The supply store at the end of the main street was called Jim’s, but the sign with the store name was so faded that a passerby could only make out the “J.” Dawn was just breaking onto a cloudless but dust-veiled sky. The owner of the store sat in a rocking chair near the door, eyeing the customers with a contemptible stare. Prudence volunteered to look after the horses while the men bought the necessary things for the journey. Scamp wandered off a little ways, perhaps to investigate a passing rodent. Prudence yawned, hoping the first leg of the trip was going to be uneventful enough that she could risk dozing off in the saddle. A jangling of spurs sharpened her attention. In the morning light, she saw a man on a horse, slowly trotting towards her. She felt her muscles tense. She couldn’t feel the energy of the air around her being disturbed, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any trouble. The rider stopped a few paces away, but still she had to tilt her head to look. A fit man with sandy hair sat astride his mount, his cowboy hat tipped back. His eyes wandered interestedly over her. A sheriff’s badge gleamed on his vest. “Morning, miss.” “Morning.” He coughed, embarrassed. “I would have recognized you. Your face is hard to forget. New here?” Being hard to forget was a bad thing, she mused. Aloud, she said, “Just passing through, sheriff.” “Where are you heading?” She debated briefly on what to tell him. Perhaps the truth would be best. “The Dustlands.” His eyes hardened. “That’s suicide.” She shrugged. “Look, miss, if you’re being dragged into some hare-brained scheme to go off the edge of the world to find treasure, I know some people who’ll gladly take you in if you have no other place to go. Heck, I could take you in if you want.” “No one dragged me into this, sheriff. Besides, haven’t you ever wondered about the unknown?” The sheriff just shook his head. “That’s almost blasphemy. You must be part of that expedition organized by that city man who wandered in last night.” “Rumors certainly spread fast around here,” she remarked. “They sure do. Copper Run is a small place.” He paused a moment and said, “I heard from the preacher this morning that he had sensed evil descending onto this town.” “Evil?” “Sorcerers cavorting with the devil, were his exact words,” said the sheriff. “Of course that could mean anything from an herb healer to a necromancer. Hope it doesn’t have anything to do with you or your companions.” “I’m sure there isn’t.” He tugged down the brim of his hat. “Take care then. And good luck on your wild goose chase.” She frowned when the sheriff trotted back where he came from. Law enforcement usually did not get up this early in the morning to check up on visitors who were leaving, did they? “Who was that?” Dash had emerged from the store with an armload of equipment. He stuffed some of it in his bags, the rest in hers. “The sheriff. He seemed harmless enough.” “They all do. But some of them are more than what they seem.” “I think he was exactly what he appeared to be. I’m not so sure about the people behind him though.” “What do you mean?” “The local preacher thinks sorcerers have descended into Copper Run. He probably convinced the sheriff to check us strangers out.”