The Lawman

The lawman's boots rattled the doorframes as he stomped his way loudly down the second floor hallway of the Morrison Inn, so heavy and angry was his step.

He rammed open the first door on the left. The loud bang stunned the occupant, who simply stared dazedly as the lawman stormed over to grab him by the collar of his undershirt and violently shove him against the nearest wall.

"Well, well, well. Frederick Taylor Buford. Good 'ol Freddy. Didn't we have words last time you were in town?" The lawman asked, as if this were a casual meeting. Anger boiled at the edge of his voice, barely contained.

"I-I-I ain't done anything wrong, mister..." Freddy stammered, trying to regain his faculties.

"Miss Lawrence. You beat her."

"You don't have any proof of that." Freddy scowled, suddenly, as if remembering something. "Haven't seen her in months."

The lawman released one hand to dig in a pocket, and produced something, holding it an inch form the bridge of Freddy's nose. A button, shaped like a tiny snake. "This. You know anyone else who wears these?"

Freddy's face paled.

"I bet you felt mighty tough, beatin' someone half your size."

"She deserved worse." His face flushed red with anger. "She'd sleep with anyone. Promise you everything, then run off with the next bastard her dirty eyes fell on! She had it coming!"

"She's dead." The lawman released him, stepping back. The words hung in the air like a heavy cloud of smoke, settling over them both.

"No... No. No! I didn't hit her that hard! I ain't hangin'!" From the dresser by his side, Freddy produced a straight razor. "I ain't hangin', you hear?!"

The bell sounded noon, concealing the sound of the lawman's revolver.