The Sheriff's Colt

by Jim Wilson

I rode into Liberty about an hour before dusk. Dropping my horse off at the livery stable, I hauled my bedroll and Winchester over to the sheriff’s office to see my old friend Lon Taylor. We had been in the Rangers together before Lon decided to check it to them and take an appointment as Sheriff, here in Liberty. I hadn’t seen him in quite a while.

When I walked in the door, Lon was sitting behind his desk in the process of cleaning several guns. We said our “howdys” and he pointed me to the coffee pot. We had a lot of catching up to do but I couldn’t take my eye off of a particular revolver on his desk. It was the prettiest darn Colt I believe I’ve ever seen, before or since.

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