I love Baberaham and Eugene. Nuff said.

The stiffness in his back and the pins and needles spreading down his left leg every time he moved his foot, told Sheriff Abraham Ford that he had indeed been sitting at his desk too long.

It was late, he supposed. He had been in his office staring at the same papers for a few hours now, and his eyes were starting to feel the familiar sting of tiredness. He slumped back in his chair, hefting out a great sigh that rattled his vocal chords as it left his throat. Eugene looked up with a start, the unexpected exclamation jolting the deputy out of his daydream. Abraham ran a hand over his face, smoothing out his moustache as it disappeared under his chin, a mannerism he repeated many times throughout the day, and stared at the wall in front of him.

He let his eyes roam over the stonework, following every groove as it disappeared behind yet another Wanted poster, some of which had been up so long they were now starting to yellow and curl at the edges. They were tokens, mementos of conquests past. The wayward men that stared back at him had always been a great tonic for a bad day, refreshing his ego, but at the moment, that wall was his main source of annoyance. He still hadn't found the person responsible for the grisly event that had taken place recently, namely the case of the man Axel's boys had found hanging from a tree a few miles out of town.

That one had really turned his stomach. He'd been to see the man's body – or what was left of it – and it hadn't been pleasant. Abraham didn't recognise him as one of the locals, but he'd gotten the feeling that he knew him from somewhere. People passed through Cherokee all the time - it wasn't so far-fetched that he might have seen him before. He had been a youngish man, healthy too by the looks of him and before the crows had pecked jagged, bloody gouges in his face, he had been fairly handsome too. There was a ring of bluish black around his neck where it had bruised under the choke of the noose, the same around his wrists where he'd been tied. The thought of him hanging there all night with the scavengers picking at him, painted blue under the moonlight, made Abraham want to empty his guts all over the desk. He'd been someone's father, or brother… maybe even someone's son.

Underneath the nausea, Abraham could feel his fists balling and his jaw clenching. It was hard to deal with the notion that he'd failed to protect the people of his town. They were looking to him for reassurance and to keep them safe, but the tight, anxious faces passing him since on the street told him he was falling monumentally short. It was a situation he'd never found himself in up until now. Sheriff Abraham Ford always got his man, always. But right now, he was taking his sweet time about it. The only evidence he had to go on was a set of hoof prints that had all but blown away in the wind, and he struggled to think how he could even match up the prints to the horse that made them. It was a ridiculously far-fetched shot in the dark, and every time he thought about it, the darkness deepened around those prints. Even if he did by some miracle find the mystery rider, what were the chances of them telling him anything? What were the chances of them even knowing anything? The anxiety writhed inside him; he knew the only other thing he had to go on was that maddening hunch, driving him crazy like an itch, and it made him seethe.

A feeling broke through his fog, the feeling of eyes on him. Just beyond his field of vision, Abraham could feel Eugene staring at him, his pasty round face drawn tight with anxiety, no doubt waiting for an eruption of some kind. He felt for the younger man a little. He was a kind soul, ever-faithful and loyal, if a little clumsy sometimes. But he never faltered, not ever. He'd stuck by his Sheriff when anyone else would have bolted for the hills - although he was pretty sure Eugene had thought about it a few times. Abraham knew he'd been rough on the man recently, and none of it had been his fault. He knew in truth he was mad at himself, because he was losing this particular battle, and lashing out at Eugene just seemed to be a force of habit now. He was easy meat; he just rolled with the proverbial punches and still turned up the next day ready to go another round. Abraham had always been rough around the edges, but of late it had been too easy to snap for no reason, and Eugene always seemed to take the first bullet. He hated that.

"Why don't you go on home now?" Abraham gestured towards the door, his eyes never leaving the faces on the wall.

Eugene eyed him warily, like he was afraid to move even though he'd been given permission to leave. "S-sir, are you-"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go on, s'late."

"No, beggin' your pardon sir. I was gonna ask… if you were alright." Eugene clammed up as Abraham's eyes fell upon him sharply. "You've been starin' at that wall for a disproportionate length of time, sir."

Abraham felt the deep furrow in his brow ease a little. He hadn't realised he was scowling, and a pang of remorse bloomed inside at the flinch from his deputy. "How long is it Eugene, since you became my deputy?"

"Eleven months and three weeks to the day sir."

"Right, an' how many times in those eleven months and three weeks have I let you go home early? Or take the day off?"

"Uh…" Eugene rolled his eyes to the ceiling, nervously wracking his brains for a number that didn't exist.

"None," Abraham grunted. "The answer you're lookin' for is none. Now go home, ya spend too damn long here as it is."

Eugene hesitated for a moment before he obediently scraped back his chair and stood. Abraham heaved an inward sigh of relief that he looked to be leaving without much further persuasion. Right now he just wanted to be left alone, in peace to figure this out. He didn't need to feel like more shit on top of the vast ocean of shit he was already in the middle of. He needed solitude. He needed answers. He needed…

"Why in the hell are you still here?" Abraham sighed, his eyes snapping to the man hovering anxiously nearby. "There ain't nothin' here for ya to do."

Eugene fidgeted with the brim of his hat, licking his lips nervously, like he'd better taste his words before he went mumbling them at the sheriff. "Sir… I know this recent heinous crime is deeply troubling, causing you profuse amounts of anxiety and stress… but I- I have every confidence that justice will be served, sir."

The tightness in his facial muscles, which had been pulling into that scowl again, softened with Eugene's attempts to reassure him. He was the one who was supposed to carry the weight of everyone else's worry on his shoulders, he was supposed to bear it alone and show everyone that their sheriff was a wall of strength. And here he was, slumped in his chair, shit out of answers, listening to words of wisdom from his deputy. He had to admire the man's faith.

"Glad one of us does." He chuckled pitifully. "Thank you, Eugene."

With a cautious twitch of a smile, Eugene placed his hat on top of his head and nodded his departure, opening the door and stepping out into the dusk. Abraham stared after him as the door swung shut in the breeze, pausing briefly before returning his attention to one of the posters on the wall. Black, vacant eyes leered back at him, making his nerves bristle under his skin. He stood up and went over to the gallery, zoning in on the image he'd seen behind closed lids as he tossed and turned in his bed at night.

He'd disappeared without a trace, and as the weeks had melted into months, the appertaining rage had become maddening. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that this man was involved. Wanted for holding up a stage, bank robberies in various states, cattle rustling. As he glared at the face on the wall, he was certain that these crimes were just the tip of the iceberg. Eyes like that could hide things, dark things, from almost anyone. Almost. Abraham Ford had looked into the eyes of enough murderers to know that look. He'd been close enough to smell the blood in their nostrils, hear the gunfire and the cries of their victims as they fell. Looking at this shadow of humanity, he could taste the metallic tang of iron lurking behind his own throat. He didn't know how, but he had to find out more. How did someone just disappear like that? Especially with every bounty hunter or lawman for miles around tearing up the plains in search of him? Every thought Abraham had seemed to lead him down these avenues of investigation that all brought him to the same dead end. Nobody knew anything. He'd already questioned the wanted man's wife, but it had turned up nothing. She'd just gaped back at him vacuously, claiming indifference and paying him no mind as she'd mopped the floor. But something, a flickered lapse in her concentration, had allowed enough to seep out that it was bugging him. She knew something.

He walked to the door, leaning his arms against the frame as he paused to gather his thoughts. He took a lungful of cool evening air, casting his gaze further up the street, where the faint lamp light flickered and jumped behind the veiled upper window of the large building on the corner. A breeze whipped up, pulling a swirl of dust into the air, seemingly snuffing out the dim light.

Tomorrow. For now he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and drift into a deep sleep, but tomorrow, he would go and talk to her again.

Let me know what ya think!