Snippet #2428518

Truth be told William was more annoyed then grateful for Annas presence. He could not argue at her skill as a Dog, nor her ability to intimidate but he had always made far greater grounds when people thought him harmless and friendly, they tended to spill more and worry less about their own immortal soul.

As the bar tender spoke William drank his beer, the cold liquid refreshing his parched throat and though it was little better then horses piss, Americans knew nothing about brewing beer, it would do the trick. Twice he paused and drew a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at the beer foam where it had built up on his moustache.

Much of what the terrified bar tender was saying had a ring of truth to it, and all of it made sense. William suspected that the Sheriffs death might not be related to that attacks but rather someone trying to make them look like the work of the same people, they would need to question a few others in the town before he jumped to any conclusions however.

The news of spousal abuse was only to be expected and William found himself wondering just how many bruises the bar tenders wife might have. Life in this little towns made for some of the worst sins imaginable, how did the saying go? The oldest sins in the newest ways, or something like that.

He drained his beer and tossed a silver coin onto the bar. It was worth more than the beer but William was well supplied with such money for it loosened tongues just as effectively as torture, without the messy results and had the added benefit of making an informer step forward a second time if they learned something new.

The bar tender eyed the coin as William stood back from the bar, touching the brim of his hat. "You may call me William, please contact me if zere ees anything else you can think of. Thank you for ze beer."

With that he jerked his head toward the street as his eyes met with Annas and he led her onto the porch in front of the saloon. He stopped on the top step, looking about again, noting how folk seemed less afraid of him now though they moved faster as Anna stood next to him.

"Zat was revealing, no?" He asked the question in his peculiar European manner as he glanced at her, one hand absently twirling the end of his moustache. "Perhaps ze should visit Mr. Blake, or the Mayor? I think ze Priest is best left for last, let him sweat."

In Williams experience the Priests tended to be the worst of a bad lot, often hiding behind their position as Holy Man of the community. The man would surely be a wreck by the time the Dogs got to him if he had anything to hide.