Sheriff Avery, Deputy Dave, and Deputy George Riggins were sitting on the porch in front of the Sheriff’s office and jail when Mr. Stockworth and Mr. Heath (the latter with that idiotic bird’s skull still mounted on the horn of his saddle) went past at a steady walk. The bell o’ noon had rung fifteen minutes before, and Sheriff Avery reckoned they were on their way to lunch, perhaps at The Millbank, or perhaps at the Rest, which put on a fair noon meal. Popkins and such. Avery liked something a little more filling; half a chicken or a haunch of beef suited him just fine.

Mr. Heath gave them a wave and a grin. “Good day, gents! Long life! Gentle breezes! Happy siestas!”

They waved and smiled back. When they were out of sight, Dave said: “They spent all mornin down there on the piers, countin nets. Nets! Do you believe it?”

“Yessir,” Sheriff Avery said, lifting one massive cheek a bit out of his rocker and letting off a noisy pre-luncheon fart. “Yessir, I do. Aye.”

George said: “If not for them facing off Jonas’s boys the way they done, I’d think they was a pack of fools.”

“Nor would they likely mind,” Avery said. He looked at Dave, who was twirling his monocle on the end of its ribbon and looking off in the direction the boys had taken. There were folks in town who had begun calling the Affiliation brats Little Coffin Hunters. Avery wasn’t sure what to make of that. He’d soothed it down between them and Thorin’s hard boys, and had gotten both a commendation and a piece of gold from Rimer for his efforts, but still... what to make of them?

“The day they came in,” he said to Dave, “ye thought they were soft. How do ye say now?”

“Now?” Dave twirled his monocle a final time, then popped it in his eye and stared at the Sheriff through it. “Now I think they might have been a little harder than I thought, after all.”

Yes indeed, Avery thought. But hard don’t mean smart, thank the gods. Aye, thank the gods for that.

“I’m hungry as a bull, so I am,” he said, getting up. He bent, put his hands on his knees, and ripped off another loud fart. Dave and George looked at each other. George fanned a hand in front of his face. Sheriff Herkimer Avery, Barony Sheriff, straightened up, looking both relieved and anticipatory. “More room out than there is in,” he said. “Come on, boys. Let’s go downstreet and tuck into a little.”

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