Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

The Next Day in Deadwood
Jail was an abandoned mine shaft at the edge of town. It was fitted with iron bars and a solid lock.
After spending a night in the freezing cold, Johnson was able to look through the bars and watch the
cavalry under the command of General George Crook ride south out of Deadwood.
He shouted to them—shouted until he was hoarse—but no one paid any attention. No one came to
let him out of jail until nearly noon, when Judge Harlan showed up, groaning and shaking his head.
“What’s the trouble?” Johnson said.
“Bit much to drink last night,” the judge said. He held the door wide. “You’re free to go.”
“What about the inquest?”
“Inquest’s been cancelled.”
“What?”
Judge Harlan nodded. “Black Dick Curry hightailed it out of town. Seems he got word of what was
coming, and chose the better part of valor, as Shakespeare would say. An inquest’s beside the point,
with Dick gone. You’re free to go.”
“But the cavalry’s a half day ahead of me now,” Johnson said. “I can never catch up with them.”
“True,” the judge said. “I’m real sorry for the inconvenience, son. I guess you’ll be staying with us
in Deadwood a while longer, after all.”
The story of Johnson’s incriminating photograph, and how he had come to miss leaving with the
cavalry, went through the town. It had serious consequences.
The first was to worsen relations between Johnson and Black Dick Curry, the Miner’s Friend. All
the Curry brothers now were openly hostile to him, especially as Judge Harlan seemed uninterested in
setting another inquest into the death of Texas Tom. When they were in town, which was whenever
there was no stage leaving Deadwood for a day or so, they stayed at the Grand Central Hotel. And
when they ate, which was seldom, they took their meals there.
Johnson irritated Dick, who announced that Johnson behaved superior to everybody else, with what
he called “his Phil-a-del-phia ways. ‘Pass the butter, would you please?’ Faugh! Can’t bear his fairyairy
ways.”
As the days passed, Dick took to bullying Johnson, to the amusement of his brothers. Johnson bore
it quietly; there was nothing he could do since Dick was only too ready to take an argument out into
the street and settle it with pistols. He was a steady shot, even when drunk, and killed a man every
few days.