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politely extended my hand.
    “My name is P.K. Pinkerton, Private Eye,” I said. “We are both fighting for Justice and Truth.”
    The Deputy Marshal turned his gaze on me.
    The eyes beneath the heavy eyebrows were unblinking. They reminded me of Snake Eyes.
    I withdrew my hand as he made no move to shake it but just stared at me.
    His gaze made me feel cold inside.
    At last he removed the cheroot from his mouth. “P.K. Pinkerton?” he said in a growl. “You the one whose foster parents was scalped and murdered down in Temperance last week?”
    “Yes, sir,” I replied.
    The Deputy Marshal did not offer his commiserations. Instead he jabbed his cheroot at the unconscious Murphy. “If that man dies, it is your dam fault.”

Ledger Sheet 12
    THE DEPUTY MARSHAL of Virginia City was regarding me with Expression No. 3: Disgust.
    “That is your dam fault!” he repeated.
    Doc Pinkerton rose frowning from his chair. “Are you saying P.K. was the cause of the shooting affray in which this man was injured?”
    “That is exactly what I am saying.” He sucked hard at his cigar & blew the smoke down. “He kilt that Whittlin Walt and upset the balance. Now every young Rough is trying to fill the vacancy Walt left. They all want to be Chief.”
    “Chief?” said Doc Pinkerton.
    “Chief of the Desperados,” said the DeputyMarshal. “That Farmer Peel, for example. He’s been here in Virginia for over a month.” He jabbed his cheroot at me. “He was no trouble at all until your heroics last week. It is that Dam Domino Effect.”
    I said, “What is the Dam Domino Effect?”
    Ping came into the studio. He had been disposing of Murphy’s bloody shirt. “I know dam domino effect,” he said. “Stand up dominoes like customers in line. Push one. All others fall down. Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam.”
    “Durn right,” said the Deputy Marshal. “One galldarn action sets a passel of events in motion.” He turned his unblinking gaze on me. “Who gave you leave to start killing off this town’s citizens, anyway?” he growled.
    “I did not kill Whittlin Walt on purpose,” I said. “It was self-defense.”
    “And who gave you leave to call yourself a Detective?”
    Before I could think of an answer he growled, “I don’t like Injuns, I don’t like Detectives and I don’t like
you
. I ain’t sure it is even legal for a brat like you to set up as a Private Eye. You cause any trouble & I will have you thrown in jail or even hanged.” He threw down his dead cigar, turned on his heel and departed.
    As I gazed after him, I said, “I guess that means I should not expect much help from the Law in my investigation of the murder of Short Sally.”
    “You are going to investigate the murder of that Nymph of the Night?” said Isaiah Coffin.
    I nodded & picked up the Marshal’s discarded cigar butt &examined it. I was pretty sure it was a Long Nine. Long Nine cigars are pencil thin and nine inches long. This one had been smoked down to one inch, but it was pencil thin and matched the description in the catalogue. I saved it for further examination.
    Doc Pinkerton looked over his spectacles at me & lowered his voice. “Be careful of Jack Williams. He is little more than a desperado himself. It is said that he has sometimes drawn his revolver and demanded money contributions from the citizens of Virginia at dead of night. Not long ago he shot a man dead over a game of billiards.”
    I nodded to show him I had understood.
    Doc Pinkerton took out his own pipe and lit it. “Deputy Marshal Williams is right about one thing,” he said. “You are far too young to be a Detective.”
    “That may be,” I said, “but I have a client who needs me.”
    I did not mention that I had failed to protect my client who was now lying low or on the run.
    I went next door to my office & unlocked the door & went in & locked it behind me & left the CLOSED sign showing. I needed to think.
    I reached into my pocket and pulled out some cigar butts and