[ WP ] You 're the sheriff of a small frontier town . You just found the mutilated body of a suspected rapist with a note that says , `` Do n't make me do your job for you . ''

The blood was spilled across the dugout hole of the latrine. Cut at the gut with intestines like a tar-smeared rope splattered near the door. His one good eye was still open, gently I closed it. He was a good man, a father and a husband. This is a land of law, whether people like it or not, and I intend to find the killer. 
 
 Stepping out of the outhouse I placed the ripped note in my pocket; evidence, not many in my town can write. I put on my black stetnson hat, tug at my leather trousers, and thumb-lick my badge. My horse, my Bessie, neighed nearby, tied to post. I grimaced at the harsh sun and the plain orange land that surrounds me. A scattering of wood cobbled together to look like buildings blots the view, but most are empty now. This town is dying, gold left many years ago, but still some poor souls linger on. 
 
 Untied my horse, and galloped back into town. Approached the local saloon, the Bar & Sink. Its second story windows were bordered-up, not many come to stay. I swung open the doors and the dust of the place blew into my face. I snarled and stepped out of the light and into the shadow misery of the sullen that laid before me, drinking their lives away. 
 
 No man dared to lay their eyes on me as I walked up to the bar. Marvin, quivering, turns to me with his beady-eyes and gray unkempt hair. Sputters, “ What kan I do ’ for ya Sheriff? ” 
 
 “ We have another dead man. I need to talk to Mary. Where is she? ” I said. 
 
 Too many seconds passed by and I slam my fist onto his cracked bar. 
 
 “ She-she-she ’ s up-upstairs! ” 
 
 I tip my hat out of well-worn respect, and I climb. It didn ’ t take a genius to figure out which room was still occupied. I pounded on the door and yelled, “ Sheriff! Open up. Don ’ t make me break this door! ” 
 
 A male voice, “ Wait! Coming, goshdarn it. ” With sounds of tossed blankets and pushed over cases, the door opened revealing a man half dress, but with a sophisticated demeanor and an eastern-style beard. “ What-do-you-want? ” He said. 
 
 I pulled out the note from the outhouse, “ Is this you? ” 
 
 “ Of course− ” and I sock him as hard as I could. He barreled backwards into his room, and I continued to kick him. Mary, naked in bed, trying desperately to cover herself in sheets, screamed. I didn ’ t give him a chance, he tried to twirl away from my kicks, but I began stomping on his head until he laid still. I shook the blood off my spur. 
 
 “ Why!? ” Shriek Mary, “ Why? ” And she broke down into sobs. I showed her the note, “ No one writes this well in town. Had to be an out ’ a ’ towner. No other man here would follow your words, no other man here would ’ ve had the guts. ” 
 
 Her blue eyes widen, “ But Sheriff. I, I was raped. I swear. I was drunk, it was dark… ” 
 
 I began to unbutton my shirt. “ You fool of a girl. ” And I shut the door. 

