John wheeled suddenly and brought the pistol up to the Deputy’s nose. The blood drained quickly from the kid’s face. It was then John found his conscience again. But he had come too far to turn back now.
“Need you inside,” he said quietly.
“Jesus H., Mister Dugan.”
“Have to do this, son. I’m sorry”
“Please don’t pull that trigger, okay?”
“Won’t if I don’t have to,” John replied.
John motioned with the pistol and glanced back along the mostly deserted street. There were a couple of soldiers at the corner, but they were too far away to notice what was happening. The boy slid past John into the cool and quiet of the courthouse.
“Lock the door,” John said coolly.
The boy complied, fumbling nervously to wrestle a string of keys from his belt. They rattled loudly in the emptiness. He glanced back at John, feeling for the right key among the others. He pushed it into the lock and turned the key until the bolt slid into place with a resounding clunk.
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