The sheriff deals with the Indians

Annie, the owner of the town’s brothel, had had a busty night yesterday. She had serviced several customers, the sex was good and so was the income. Today Mary, the sheriff of Titepoos, hoped that the new day would be slow and calm. They were the same person, but she preferred to use different names in her two jobs to separate them even further. Her full name was Mary Anne Hornney.

“Sheriff!” shouted a young man riding on a horse down the street, “there’s a stand-off!”

Damn it. There goes hope.

“Between whom?” Mary asked calmly.

The man made a short pause to appreciate her vocabulary. The sheriff and Jane, the town’s doctor, were the only people to use words like “whom”.

“The settlers and the Indians.”

Damn it.

Neither of these groups were under Mary’s jurisdiction. She could try to exert some authority over the settlers. They came to Titepoos regularly and mostly stayed on good terms with the inhabitants of the town. They also in most cases respected authority, but it all depended mostly on their good will. The Indians she could only politely ask. The sheriff decided to do what every responsible person, especially ones in a position of authority, should - mediate. Mary gathered all her five deputies, because you can get more with a kind word and a gun, than with just a kind word. Then she told Willy, because that was the young man’s name, to lead them to the location of the stand-off.

The distance was not too great, but still gave them some time for a conversation. Willy was only eighteen years old and was a huge fan of Mary Anne, even though she was twice his age. Currently Willy’s greatest problem was not staring at the sheriff’s large breasts. Her outfit was not revealing, but it was tight and anyway it was impossible to hide breasts as big as hers; Mary pretended not to notice his gazes. The whole company rode listening to Willy’s tales, not related to the case.

When they finally arrived at the place, the scene they witnessed was not as threatening as Mary had feared. Sure, there was a risk of , but not an immediate one. A group of settlers, along with their cattle, were facing a group of Indians. All, apart from the cows, were armed, but no weapons had been drawn yet. They were all located right beyond the border of the Indian territory. Even without asking Mary could see the most probable source of the conflict - a river. Cows needed to drink, the Indians had the water, the settlers thought they could just come and take it. Mary gestured for her deputies to spread out. The seven, together with Willy, riders formed a line, so they would look more intimidating. They were soon noticed by the conflicted parties.

“I’m sheriff Mary Anne Hornney of Titepoos,” Mary announced when they approached the groups, “what is the problem.”

“They enter our land,” the Indian’s leader was the first to answer. His English was quite decent.

“We just want some water for our animals,” replied one of the settlers.

“The ownership of this land,” Mary addressed the legal part to the settlers, “was negotiated with the Wakacha tribe by the Federal Government. It cannot be disputed by the citizens nor any other forms of authority other than the aforementioned government. In short, the Indians own the land and it’s up to them to let you do anything here.”

“But we just want some water.”

“If this land belonged to white men, what would you need to do to get it?” Mary asked.

“Buy it,” the man answered honestly, before he realised he had walked into an ambush.

“How much did you offer then?”

“But…” the man knew he had been outsmarted.

That was not a solution and the sheriff was well aware of it. The cattle had to drink and Mary had to somehow broker a deal with the Indians. They were in the right here, so outsmarting them was not an option, at least when one wanted to maintain peace.

“Would you let these people go to the river this one time,” Mary turned to the Indian’s leader, “if they offered to pay a fair price?”

This might have been the frontier, but these Indians already knew the concept and the value of white man’s money.

“They never offer fair price,” the leader answered.

“They will accept one this time,” the sheriff assured him.

“We will discuss it.”

He turned to his companions and they talked for a moment. Finally he turned back to Mary and named his price, in gold; to the sheriff it sounded reasonable.

“But only one time,” he stressed.

“Agreed. I’ll tell them your offer.”

The settlers were reasonable. They needed the water and they had enough gold. Most importantly they were not willing to come into conflict with Indians AND the sheriff. Mary sent her deputies and Willy to ride with the settlers. She remained with the Indians to continue the negotiations.

“Would you agree that the settlers brought their cattle to the river more often?” she asked the leader, “we've set up where and when. I’d make sure that they don’t intrude anywhere else.”

“The Chieftain has to make that decision.”

So he was not the Chieftain after all, Mary thought to herself. She should have known that from the start, he looked too young for that role.

“Could you lead me to him?”

The man pondered for a short moment.

“Yes, but not now. I will bring you the message tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

The settlers eventually led their cows away. The sheriff told them that she will try to negotiate a deal with the Indians. But until then they could not intrude into their land or Mary would arrest them for breaking a federal treaty. A carrot and a stick; the settlers agreed. More importantly, Morning Wood, because that was the leader’s name, promised to deliver her plea to his Chieftain, and hopefully set a date for further negotiations. Willy was very proud of Mary’s success and was certain that she would manage to get any deal she wanted. He still could not get his eyes off her breasts.