Sheriff Sean was already on edge. The recent cold snap and blizzard had caused disagreements with the Outlaws over their shipping routes.
Now, with his nephew in danger, he was like a powder keg about to explode.
He shot up from his chair.
The legs of the chair screeched against the floor.
His eyes scanned the desk, and he snatched up the gun belt lying there.
He yanked the belt tight around his slightly bulging stomach, the force of his movements making it seem as if the belt itself were the target of his anger.
After buckling the belt, Sheriff Sean's gaze swept over the two deputy sheriffs standing frozen in place.
The rage he'd been suppressing could no longer be contained, erupting like a volcano.
"Fuck!"
"What the hell are you two still standing around gawking for? Are you waiting for a Christmas turkey to fall out of the sky? Get moving, now! What, are you planning on waiting to attend Little Tom's funeral?"
His words made the two deputies' faces turn deathly pale.
