<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://gunsofold.com/marshal_badge_silver_balltip.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Gomorra<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open<br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/de/Nash_bilton.png)</div><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6f/Mayor_cochran.png)</div>The doors opened from within, and Mayor Cochran emerged from within.  He was a pretty, vainglorious man with a waved moustache and a jauntily tipped bowler, a man who enjoyed the attentions of... anyone.  He waved at the assembled crowd, looking as delighted as when he'd made his last inaugural speech.<br/><br/>Behind him followed Howard Findley, the white-haired businessman with a pinched face and a grim expression.  A trio of bodyguards followed with him, brawny men with pistols at their waists.  Oswald Hardinger followed close behind, placing his own top hat on his head, stepping slightly away from the procession, while Nash Bilton carried up the rear, wearing a new tin star he'd slipped onto his belt.  Bilton gave Mycroft a nod, but brushed by, slinging on a duster and tamping out a cigar on his boot before joining the rest of the men at the podium.  He had a frown on his face, but<br/><br/>“Friends,” began Cochran, his speaking voice well practiced, and pushed to carry over the crowd.  “My fellow Gomorrans.  This day, we mourn the passing of a fine man, a noble sheriff, our own J.P. Coleman.  His life of service, his contributions to this town are nearly without equal, and his loss will be noticed by many.”<br/><br/>He bowed his head, then lifted it with the same practiced smile.<br/><br/>“I wish I could tell you that his life was taken by old age, or a peaceful end, but that is not so.  He was murdered, viciously and cruelly, without a weapon to defend himself.  His death, at the hands of Blackjack's violent outlaws was at least mercifully quick.  Black Jack himself escaped punishment for this crime, and has not yet been apprehended by authorities.”  He sighed heavily, dramatically.  “In an effort to bring the killers to justice, I have appointed Senior Deputy Nash Bilton to the post of Sheriff.  He has large shoes to fill - “<br/><br/>Bilton stepped forward, only to be interrupted by a piercing voice from the crowd.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/65/Judgehawkins.png)</div>“Now hold on a minute there!” said a voice from the crowd.  It was sharp, and cultured, yet spoke with a self-appointed authority.  The crowd began to part as a a broad shouldered figure pushed forward through the crowd.  “I'm certain you meant to say 'temporarily appointed, didn't you, Cochran?”<br/><br/>Cochran's smile was carefully painted on his face.  “Pardon?”<br/><br/>The bald man glowered.  “Your<em>office</em>has the right to appoint a<em>candidate</em>, Mr. Mayor.  Not a sheriff.”<br/><br/>Cochran's smile was still frozen.  “Perhaps this is a discussion we can have at a more appropriate juncture, Judge Warwick.  Our good friend - “<br/><br/>“ - save the speeches, Cochran.  Mr. Mayor.  The town charter grants you the right to appoint an interim sheriff, but demands a full election be held no later than three days.  The town has the right to appoint any suitable candidate with law enforcement experience.  It can appoint one, five, fifty.  Ten votes, and a appointee is eligible for election.”<br/><br/>The Mayor, clearly flummoxed, kept his forced smile in place.  “Ah... Well.  It was never our intention to sidestep the electoral process – merely a minor distinction within the law we may have overlooked.  Regardless, we will be appointing Nash Bilton as interim Sheriff until such time as we can formalize the position.”  Findley stepped forward, whispering in the mayor's ear.  Oswald scowled, from behind them, and the Mayor paused, listening dutifully, then finally turning back to the assembled crowd.<br/><br/>“I'm afraid we should conclude for now.  We will make arrangements for the sheriff's burial, and post notices as to the time and date.  All are welcome.  A trust has been established, in Mr. Coleman's name, to erect a memorial.  We will post notices to arrangement of the elections, their time and date.<br/><br/>“Thank you citizens.  For your time.”<br/><br/>Cochran looked to the assembled powerful men of Gomorra.   “Gentleman, if we could return to the parlor to discuss... the matters at hand.”  He tipped his hat, and Findley gave him a deep, disapproving scowl.<br/><br/>The assembled citizens looked between one another, murmuring about the announcements, and Judge Warwick stalked away, irritation clear in every step.<br/><br/>[The images in this post are, in clockwise order, Mayor Cochran, Nash Bilton, an Judge Warwick]<br/><br/>