Post by John Gray on Feb 3, 2008 15:16:04 GMT -5
John was quite simply exhausted after the encounter the night before. It showed, especially under his eyes where bags had formed. His skin was a bit pale because of the blood loss from that little stunt he'd pulled disarming crazy old Brimstone. Sarah hadn't been terribly happy either being locked up. She'd thrashed and spit religious venom for about two hours before John finally went and shut her up. He wasn't too disappointed letting her go this morning either. She hadn't even looked at him, just tried to step on his foot like a 7 year old, a trick he dodged and told her simply, "If you want to act like a horses rear-end I'll be more than happy to throw you back in there." Needless to say, she backed down and left without another word.
He sat at his desk and took a moment to think about the previous night. He thought about the minister and how he had attacked Wakefield when his back was turned. Most of all, he remembered the wild look in that man's eyes. That look was the look he had seen all too often in his time as an outlaw, mostly with the muderers and rapists. Frankly, it scared him to death, gave him nightmares from time to time.
Until he had come here, he'd never seen a minister act that way. What was that scarecrow of a man up to? His instincts were rarely wrong, and he hoped he was just being paranoid, but things didn't add up. What causes a man of the cloth to want to kill another human being in cold blood? Questions, always questions running through John's mind.
For now, he picked up his Winchester and went to sit on the porch for his watch. Wakefield hadn't shown up yet, at least he hadn't seen him and deep down, he really hoped he would because again the gears were turning in that clock he called his mind. He needed Wakefield's help because he knew the two of them would be able to take him down. The truth of it was though, he simply didn't want to go after the old man by himself.
He set the Winchester next to his rocking chair and flipped some dust off his badge. The time for planning would come, but for now he thought he'd best just stick to his duties.
He sat at his desk and took a moment to think about the previous night. He thought about the minister and how he had attacked Wakefield when his back was turned. Most of all, he remembered the wild look in that man's eyes. That look was the look he had seen all too often in his time as an outlaw, mostly with the muderers and rapists. Frankly, it scared him to death, gave him nightmares from time to time.
Until he had come here, he'd never seen a minister act that way. What was that scarecrow of a man up to? His instincts were rarely wrong, and he hoped he was just being paranoid, but things didn't add up. What causes a man of the cloth to want to kill another human being in cold blood? Questions, always questions running through John's mind.
For now, he picked up his Winchester and went to sit on the porch for his watch. Wakefield hadn't shown up yet, at least he hadn't seen him and deep down, he really hoped he would because again the gears were turning in that clock he called his mind. He needed Wakefield's help because he knew the two of them would be able to take him down. The truth of it was though, he simply didn't want to go after the old man by himself.
He set the Winchester next to his rocking chair and flipped some dust off his badge. The time for planning would come, but for now he thought he'd best just stick to his duties.