Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

“I am sure of it,” the judge said. “But the problem is, you shot him three times in the back.”
Johnson said he hadn’t intended to kill anyone at all.
“I am sure of it. You have no problem with me, but you may have some difficulty when Black Dick
hears of it, tomorrow or the next day, depending if he’s in town.”
This had already occurred to Johnson, and he did not like to think about it too long.
“You planning to leave Deadwood?” the judge said.
“Not just yet,” Johnson said.
Judge Harlan took another pull from the flask. “I would,” he said. “Myself, I’d be gone before
daybreak.”
“Well, damn me,” Sam Perkins said, fingering the bullet holes in the wall after the crowd had left.
“You surely had some hot work here, Mr. Johnson.”
“They didn’t get the bones.”
“That’s so, but they got every one of my guests out of bed in the middle of the night, Mr. Johnson.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Scared Edwin the night clerk so bad he wet his trousers. I’m not fooling.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I can’t run a hotel this way, Mr. Johnson. The Grand Central has its reputation. I want these bones
out of here today,” Perkins said.
“Mr. Perkins—”
“Today,” Perkins said, “and that’s final. And I’ll charge you to repair the bullet holes. That’ll be on
your bill.”
“Where am I going to move them to?”
“Ain’t my problem.”
“Mr. Perkins, these bones are valuable to science.”
“We’re a long way from science. Just get ’em out of here.”