Lucas demanded. “I was merely offering Mr. Bemis a job,” Carrie replied with a self-satisfied smile. This old goat told us you were shooting up the place,” the sheriff said, indicating the wizened old man. “I did fire my pistol, but he’s exaggerating a bit.” Lucas’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Mr. Bemis wanted proof of my marksmanship before he would accept a job I offered him. Since he was in no condition to step outside, I was compelled to hold my demonstration here.” “She shot the end off my cigar,” Jake disclosed, holding up the evidence of his statement in an unsteady hand. Then, by jasper, she put a hole in my hat right above my ear, said she was going to notch them both if I didn’t take the job.” “Now look here, Mrs. Simpson, you can’t go forcing people to take jobs when they don’t—” “Mr. Bemis neglected to tell you that we had made a bargain,” Carrie said, interrupting the sputtering sheriff in mid-sentence. “He said he would take my job if I proved myself as good as a man.
