Sam asked the next morning, coming into the jail from his quarters. “I’m going down to the hotel for some.” The cowboy he’d arrested yesterday at the saloon clutched the bars of his cell and glared at him. “Naw, I just want outta here.” Sam paused. “You got the five dollars for the fine for disturbing the peace?” “I told you I didn’t yesterday. It ain’t likely any money miraculously appeared in my pocket overnight.” Sam went past him toward the door. “Then you can wait till I’ve had my coffee.” Surely he’d be able to tolerate the man’s surliness once he’d had some coffee. If the man continued to insist he had no money, Sam would have to figure out some other way to penalize him for the incident yesterday. But either way, he was going to have to release him this morning. Just as he reached the door, however, it was pulled open from the outside. A narrow-faced fellow stood there, medium height, his chin sporting a black goatee. He wore a rust-colored frock coat with a waistcoat of some sort of shiny black cloth with a gold watch chain draped conspicuously across it.
What do You think about The Sheriff's Sweetheart (2011)?
