The dust flew as Jon playfully kicked an empty tin can under the wooden walkway. He glanced at the “Military Discount” sign that hung next to the red, white, and blue barber’s pole as he hurried up the stairs. It was time for Jon’s bi-weekly haircut and some friendly jawin’ with his good friend Tom Baldwin, popular barber and President of the County Commission.
Busy sweeping the floor, Tom didn’t notice Jon come in.
Jon looked around, admiring the little shop. Several colognes, scissors, combs, shaving mugs, and the ever present straight razors were lined up on the shelf just behind the chair. A beautiful oval mirror with beveled glass hung above the shelf. Jon glanced toward the back, looking for Tom’s brown and white Bassett hound. He smiled as he spotted the docile hound lying motionless by the back door. The only sign of life from the chubby beast was an occasional swat of the tail.
“Well hello Jon, how the heck are you?” Tom grinned as he caught a glimpse of the big lawman. Commissioner Baldwin looked distinguished in his red plaid vest, white cotton shirt, and black shoe string tie. A pair of small, round lenses hung precariously on the end of his rather long nose.
“I’m just fine, Tom, good to see you again,” Jon replied.
“Sit down Jon, please.” The natty barber pointed to the chair.
Jon’s big body fell into the leather chair; his head nestled into the soft head rest. The breeze from the large black cloth felt good as it flew over Jon’s head.
“You know Jon, I always kind of hate to cut your hair.”
“Oh yea Tom? Why would that be?”
“I don’t like messin’ with perfection!” the friendly barber quipped.
“Ha, ha, ha!” Jon shouted. “That’s a good one!” His big hand slammed down on the leather arm. “Wait till I tell the boys about this one.”
“Gotcha that time Sheriff,” Tom said with a grin. “The usual?”
“Yea, just don’t trim too much off around my ears, I don’t want them to stick out,” Jon said, still chuckling.
“Okay, okay lover boy, don’t worry!”
Tom got more serious as he picked up the scissors. “I’m glad you came in today, I been meaning to talk to you.”
“Oh yea, what about?” Jon asked.
“Did you know our British friends Alex Faraday and Clive Cook have both thrown their names in the hat for County Commissioner?”
“No I didn’t, but they seem like nice enough hombres. They bought that big mansion out by the mines, didn’t they?” Jon asked.
“Yea, they seem to have plenty of money and they’re very popular around here. They could win, you know.”
“Are you worried about that Tom?” Jon asked.
“Well, I’m not sure. I was talking to an old friend of mine who just came here from up Kansas way. He stopped in for a haircut the other day. He was a bartender in Ellsworth before coming’ out here. He’s a talker, seems like he always knows what’s going’ on.”
“What’d he have to say?”
“Rumor was in Ellsworth that Alex hired Butch Canady, a nasty gunhand, and he’ll be arriving here in a day or two. I guess the question is, why would he need to hire a gunman? He doesn’t seem to have any enemies that I know of.” Tom seemed genuinely puzzled.
“Alex has been doing pretty well down at his saloon, maybe he feels he’s making so much money he needs protection.”
Tom’s foot tapped the foot lock, the chair spun to the right. “Maybe so, but something doesn’t feel right about this Jon. Maybe you ought to look into it.”
“Okay, Mr. Commissioner.” Jon grinned. “I’ll kind of check things out a little. Faraday and Cook came here from Denver. I’ll send a wire to my sheriff friend up that away and see what I can find out. One thing for sure, that Canady is one mean bugger. I spent some time with him in Dodge City years ago and he’s pure evil.”
“We need to stay on top of this,” Tom said warily.
Jon grimaced. “Sure do.”
“Well that’s enough of this kind of talk Sheriff. How bout a shave?”
“Sounds good, partner!”
Tom hit the release button on the cast iron chair; Jon went perpendicular.
“Hold on there!” Jon shouted, feet in the air, laughing like a fool.