The Silver Pine Inn

Sheriff Forrestall led his prisoner into the main office. He then went behind his desk and unlocked the gun cabinet. He carefully placed Marshal Hortenz's guns in the cabinet and removed another set of guns . He looked over at the prisoner. "Prisoner's personal effects as follows "Winchester Rifle Model 1876, half loaded." He handed over the rifle, the man looked smug. "Colt Peacemaker revolver, three notches carved onto handle." The prisoner took his gun from the Sheriff. "Three dollars and twelve cents, assorted currency." James examined one of the paper notes, which bore the face of Brigham Young. "So that's what they're using in Deseret these days." One photograph of a presumably nude woman wrapped in the Confederate flag." The fact that James didn't blush may have been a reflection on the type of company he was keeping lately. "And lastly a little piece of advice."

James' words made the man look up from Isabella, at whom he'd been leering. "Marshal Hortenz's untimely death forces me to release you due to lack of evidence, but you should know that here in Colorado we take a dim view of the sort of outlawry practiced in Texas. In the future you and your friends should certainly confine your depredations to the Lone Star Star. You'd better get going, the stagecoach leaves in," James consulted his gold pocket watch in a manner eerily reminiscent of Boss Tohtslaggge "four minutes, be on it. Don't stop off at the saloon. Drink when you get to Texas, the tequila is better."

With that James made a dismissive motion with his hands and the now former prisoner, who probably had no idea what depredations even were quickly left the Sheriff's office. With that Sheriff Forrestal locked the gun cabinet behind him and sat down behind his desk. He reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a half full bottle of Burbon. "Dammit Jimmy," he looked at Amelia, "at least now he can afford his own libations." He offered poured two shots and looked at Isabella.

"Would you care for a drink before you explain what the hell happened at the Barber Shop.?"

"And that family name would not be Trisdale I'd suspect." Forrestall looked closely at Isabella, he was trying to reconcile his image of a witch with Isabella. Of course his idea of a witch had more to due with their portrayal in music hall entertainments and Penny Dreadfuls from back east that any realistic image of the modern witch.

"You're...a Wheatley..." James muttered weakly. The Wheatley name had a dark reputation in serious occult circles. He didn't know any specifics, but he knew better than to question her honesty. No one would claim to be a Wheatly who wasn't, the risks were simply to great.

Jimmy stumbled up to the door of the office and reached for his keys. He was still very much in pain and honestly wasn't sure what time of day it was or how long he was out for. He fumbled with his keys a bit trying to get them out of his pocket since he hadn't recovered completely from one of the shots that hit him in his arm. When Jimmy finally had the key in his hand he placed it into the lock and slowly but surely turned the lock and opened the door letting himself into the office. He stumbled in with his head down for a moment as he inspected one of the bandages on his arm peeling back a part to take a look at the damage. As he looked up he saw that he had interrupted some sort of conversation going on between Miss Isabella and JC Fancy Pants. With a dumbfounded look on his face he just looked towards the sheriff and said, "Did any of ya catch the color of that horse that trampled me?"

A slight pain ridden smirk came across his face, as he released the bandage he was picking at it snapped back to his arm forcing Jimmy to cringe for a moment. He made his way over to his desk while poorly trying to not look like he was in pain in front of Miss Isabella as he picked himself up onto the desk and had a seat.

Jimmy looked at the shot glass for a minute or so trying to remember, "No not really, and I'm sure this won't help either." Jimmy downed the shot and again stared at the now empty glass.

"A lot of last night is a big blur, and speaking of blurs, how long was I out for? I only remember short bursts during a gun fight, and then I woke up today in my bed with quite a few blood stains on my sheets that I can only assume came from me."

"And the Marshall now? Where is the dirty bastard? Don't tell me I missed it all." Jimmy sat up, causing himself a bit of pain due to how fast he moved.

Isabela simply nodded in agreement; she was more then comfortable letting Jimmy believe the lie the sheriff wanted to spin. Rather then risk Jimmy knowing the truth.

"The Sheriff was quite heroic... he saved both of our lives.", she said with almost an unprecedented sense of gratitude. While she didn't know the sheriff's plans for her ... she did believe that at this point she'd at the very least be in jail if he wanted to see anything done.

Sensing that the Deputy had Sheriff had some buisness to take care of, Isabela decided that she should leave the two men to handle their work.

Steppeing outside she greeted Preacher Kapp with a smile. "Morning Preacher."

She waited a moment to see if he'd respond, but would ultimately move on if he was too busy spreading the good word to his flock of sheep.