<div class="floatleft">(http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KL7Uf3vdz0A/UDr2PAfW3xI/AAAAAAAAmBc/EIYJpjy2SI8/s1600/post5.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Matthew Ford<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 11, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Sheriff's Office<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Sheriff Bilton<br/><hr/><br/>Stopping in front of the office, one of the few brick buildings in this frontier town. Straightening his hat Ford stared out at the town center with the well in the middle. For a few minutes he just stood there watching people mill about mostly clustered around the whorehouse Babel's Tower. It seemed to be a pretty big what to do for the small town. Raising an eyebrow Matthew guessed that this is probably a rare thing to have new venues of entertainment. Too bad such entertainment had to be practical for the masses of the working class.<br/><br/>Stepping through the door the ex Union officer entered the office. Slipping his hat off his head Ford brushed off the dust from the material. It was a simple office as he expected for the town. Behind the desk ahead of him was a rather large man with a impressive Gatling gun in front of him, a thing he did not expect to be in the hands of a frontier man. Only time he ever saw such things were on strange men in black coats back East. There was another officer nearby and a woman in the cells. Ford's eyes drifted over the scene while standing in front of the door not moving but his rather large bulk filling the door.<br/><br/>Who he assumed was the Sheriff would be the one with the sophisticated gun. With a quick appraisal it became clear that this man was far more then what his mass portrayed or his simplicity when it came to handling the gun. In the man's eyes Ford caught a glint of intelligence. Sheriff Bilton was a dangerous man indeed and not one to be taken lightly. During his time on the front lines he has seen many men who portrayed their outward appearances. One didn't live as long as he did not to gain wisdom.<br/><br/>"Sheriff Bilton?" Stepping forward towards the desk, slightly stepping to the side to avoid the aim of the pistol. His black closed leather duster's edges fluttered as he walked. Large black jack boots made the floorboards creak as Ford moved but he appeared unarmed. Under his coat was of course a Peacemaker along with a Bowie knife but it was all tucked away. Out of sight and out of mind. Reaching overtly into his coat he pulled out the agreement the former Sheriff sent him. Laying it on the desk in front of the man Ford pushed it towards the man.<br/><br/>"I have some papers here that promise me a job as a Deputy in Gomorra." Standing straight Ford didn't move or flinch but kept eye contact with Bilton. "The late Coleman heard I was looking for a job suited to my past experiences, he seemed eager to bring me in. Apparently not often does a retired Union officer fall into your lap. He was pretty quick promising the job to me for ridiculous pay. More pay then I ever heard of back East and it made me suspicious but Coleman was pretty persuasive. It seems that sadly he passed away so it leaves me in a tough spot because I am asking you to uphold the promises of a dead man. I trust you would Sheriff?"