[h1][center][color=00aeef] Erik Torvald Viken [/color][/center][/h1]

Erik did his outmost not to pay attention to what was going on around him, instead focusing on the cold glass of water he was given. Except that it wasn't cold, it was room-temperature and a little smelly. When he thought about it, the glass of water tasted of whiskey or bourbon, or even moonshine. Combine that with the brown-ish colouring of the water, and Erik was pretty sure he had been given a glass of trough water, in a glass used normally for booze. But why did he care about details such as these, when things were escalating quicker than a speeding train down a slope?

Wait, was that woman...pulling her gun on that Indian? 

Okay, Erik was perhaps only sheriff for a day and perhaps only for finding the stolen cattle, but he was not about to a murder on his hands within the first minutes of his career. Especially not one by a former Confederate [b]female[/b] soldier. Did that matter though? No, too much thinking, too little taking action. 

[color=00aeef]"The same as everyone in this saloon is, exercising their freedom."[/color] Erik said as he stood up from the barstool and walked towards the woman now with her back to him. He wasn't expecting - or hoping - for it to turn any worse, but he still found himself resting his hand on the revolver at his side, just in case. [color=00aeef]"Frøken, there is no need to unneeded shooting today. I think you should go back to your friend at the counter and drink on."[/color]