"How was Te Puke?" one of them said, and spat into the sawdust on the floor.
The Marshall was a canny operator. He had been around. This wasn't his first rodeo. He had run the Dodge Stagecoach for many years and always turned in a handsome profit. When he was approached to take over as Marshall, he didn't hesitate. It was a stepping stone towards his ultimate goal – to become the Governor of Dodge.
And so he could tell an insolent remark when he heard one. He could sense disrespect. He knew, too, that it must not be tolerated. It had to be dealt with. It had to be shut down. A Marshall was only as good as his deputies and the loyalty they showed him.
Make a beeline for the Beehive
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The Marshall's philosophy wasn't just that money always talked. His philosophy was that money did all the talking.
TUESDAY
Marshall Luxon was sitting with his bandaged foot up on his desk when Hoss Brownlee walked in.
The Marshall rated Hoss. He was a canny operator. He had been around. He knew the score. He called a spade a spade, and only ever spoke with certainty.
"I kinda quit," said Hoss.
Hoss explained that he didn't want to campaign anymore but was happy to go along for the ride.
The Marshall didn't ask for his reasons and Hoss wasn't about to tell him that he had imagined campaigning in the next election, and how it would feel when the Marshall came to town and stood alongside him in public. They would associate Hoss with the Marshall. They would regard Hoss in the Marshall's light.
A shiver had run up Hoss' spine. It didn't have far to travel.
WEDNESDAY
Marshall Luxon called a meeting of the townsfolk to assure them that he would not, categorically would not slash spending on the Dodge School and the Dodge County Hospital when he became Governor.
It was going well. He felt their support. He felt their will for change, to replace Governor Ardern with someone different, someone with a solid background in business, someone who they could trust to get the job done.
They cheered his name. Elated, he took out his gun and waved it. "As for education and health spending," he yelled, "I can categorically tell ya we will not slash spending - unless we have to!"
He fired his gun in a fit of excitement.
"Ow," he yelped.
THURSDAY
Marshall Luxon travelled to Samoa with Governor Ardern. Observers noticed that he looked miserable as hell and wondered if it had something to do with the fact he had shot himself in both feet in one week in front of the whole darned town.
FRIDAY
Marshall Luxon lay in bed and looked at his two bandaged feet. He could hear whoopin' and hollerin' down at the Dodge Saloon. It was always like that when he wasn't in there, he reflected. It was always noisier and happier when he wasn't around. The place came alive, especially when Deputy Willis climbed on top of the bar and sang songs in her strong, fiscal voice.
Oh well. He'd be back up on his feet in no time. The townsfolk were sick of Governor Ardern. Of course he'd win the next election. Snuggling inside the sheets, Marshall Luxon closed his eyes, and felt mighty pleased with himself.
