King's man in the Sheriff's office smiled, watching West ride off in a panic.  The pistol in his hand was still smoking, it's barrel hot and colored with gunpowder.  He slid the weapon into the holster at his hip, then moved to the doorway, peering out just in time to catch the silhouette of West on horse back, disappearing into the night.  Let him run.  King's plan had begun, and went off without a hitch.  This was just the beginning, the man knew.  He'd worked with King long enough to know that there was rarely anything...or anyone...that was left untouched when the man wanted something.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q15/doogieporker/raylan-givens.jpg)</div>Turning, he walked over to the cooling body of the Sheriff, and knelt down beside him.  As if on cue, the townsfolk stumbled their way into the sheriff's office, their eyes wide and their faces contorted with panic and anger.  The man turned, eyeing them, before he looked back to the body of the old sheriff.  He reached out, taking the dead man's badge of office, and affixed it to his coat.  He straightened, rising to his full height, and turned around to address the crowd gathered.<br/><br/>"Rest easy, folks...." he said, his hands rising, his palms out, as though trying to calm the crowd.  "West won't get far.  And when we find him, he'll be tried and hung for murder.  We don't need some madman with a taste for blood ruinin' the money that Mr. King's gonna bring to this town.  Spread the word!  I want any information on Jackson West...there's a hundred dollar reward for any information leading to his capture!"<br/><br/>The crowd grumbled their agreement and slowly filed out of the sheriff's office, and out into the street.  They joined the rest of the townsfolk that had gathered outside, and their murmured voices became a mixed cacophony of anger and dissent.  West was the angry name on their lips, and the hundred dollar reward was the incentive they needed to do their best to find him.<br/><br/>The new sheriff watched as the crowd exited and began to slowly disperse.  His gaze rose, moving over the heads of those gathered and to the lone figure standing on the opposite side of the street, in the shadows of an overhang.  The figure was none other than Desmond King, who nodded his approval, then turned, and moved off into the night.