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glared at Levi from its position on the right side of the man’s unbuttoned coat.
    A tin star.

Chapter Five

    Levi deliberately stayed down an extra moment before rising, trying to gain control of his panicked pulse. The sheriff was just making his rounds. That was all. Yet Levi couldn’t quite banish the notion that his criminal past would somehow be evident to the lawman once he faced him eye to eye.
    Ornery continued to growl, so Levi used the dog as an excuse to tarry. “Quiet, boy.” He rubbed Ornery behind the ears, then slowly pushed to his feet. His height worked to his advantage, bolstering his confidence as he straightened to stand a good three or four inches taller than the sheriff.
    “You the new smith?” The question came out like an accusation.
    “Yep. Levi Grant.” Levi offered a small nod. The stiffness of the man’s jaw didn’t foster the impression that a handshake would be welcome.
    “Conrad Pratt. Sheriff.” He jerked his chin in Ornery’s direction. “Better watch yourself around that mutt. I seen ’im tear a dog’s throat out once. Lost me twenty dollars on that fight.”
    A sick ache churned through Levi’s stomach, but he kept his face a disinterested mask. He’d always hated the dog and cock fights that were used to warm up the crowds before one of his bouts. Men could choose to make a living with their fists. Animals were forced into it, usually through cruelty and abuse until their God-given temperaments were twisted into something barbarous.
    “I think his owner up and left him one day after a loss. I thought about shootin’ him to put him out of his misery, but the thing slunk off before I got around to it. So far he ain’t done more than growl at folks, but I’m tellin’ you now, if he ever turns aggressive, I’ll put a bullet through his skull faster than you can spit.”
    Levi stepped to the side, blocking Sheriff Pratt’s view of Ornery. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
    “You do that.” The sheriff finally turned his attention from the dog and focused on Levi again. The man took his time sizing him up, lingering overlong on his face. “Have I seen you around these parts afore? There’s something about you that strikes me as familiar.”
    “Hmm.” Levi chose his words carefully. “I don’t know why. I’ve . . . never been here . . . before.”
    The sheriff narrowed his gaze. Levi bit down on his tongue and tried to swallow, but his saliva seemed to solidify into a ball and lodge in his throat. If Sheriff Pratt bet on dog fights, there was a good chance he’d attended his share of bare-knuckle brawls, as well. Had he seen the Anvil fight?
    “Well, it’ll come to me eventually. Always does.” He shrugged his shoulders under his coat, as if brushing off the thought for the time being, and straightened his Stetson. “Welcome to Spencer, Grant. Treat the people here fairly. Keep yourself on the right side of the law, and you and me will get along fine. Mess with my town, and I’ll bury you. Got it?”
    Levi dipped his chin in acknowledgment. Nothing like a friendly how-de-do to make a fella feel at home.
    “Good.” The sheriff tapped the brim of his hat in salute. “See ya around.”
    Levi tapped his own brim in response, deciding it’d probably be in his best interest to see the sheriff as little as possible. The man obviously enjoyed throwing his weight around, and Levi had no desire to be the one to catch it.
    And his first order of business was setting his new workshop to rights and taking inventory of his tools and supplies.
    After the sheriff left, Ornery settled down and curled up in a corner to supervise. Levi appreciated the company. The dog didn’t require conversation, and if Levi happened to say something that hissed a bit, Ornery didn’t notice or care.
    By late afternoon, Levi had a pretty good idea of what he would need to purchase. The previous smith had kept a healthy heap of scrap iron piled up behind the building. Old tools,