“Three fist fights,” Winston answered. “Two domestic disturbances.  Two women, allegedly of negotiable virtue.  New crowd screaming and shouting at the train station.  I had to send everyone I could find to the station, but the crowd calmed down.  No arrests needed.  Oh, I finished my report.  You get to tell me what I left out.”

“Precious little, I expect. ” Radnor asked. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“No, and I missed lunch, too.  Though that time with the Mayor was relaxing,” Winston said.

Radnor frowned.  “Eat on time!  Your meals, house special, are covered at Trinity House Cafe.  So let us advance there, though down Flint Street.”

“You’re fond of Flint Street for some reason,” Winston observed.

“Never told you that story, have I?” Radnor smiled.  “Stupid Hollywood types have Main Street at high noon gun fights in every movie.  We actually had one.”

“And you know this because…?”

“I won.”

“What?” Winston exclaimed. “You were actually in a gun fight?  Mom and Dad never told me.”

“It was a good idea at the time.  So we lined up, several blocks apart, started walking toward each other.  There was a big audience.  I looked for people who weren’t there.  They had brains.  I wanted to listen to  them.  Like the attractive young lady visiting from Boston who finally married your dad.  In any event, we were a couple hundred yards apart, and I started my draw.”

“That far? But you outdrew him?”

“Heck, no,” Radnor answered.  “I started to draw, so he drew and started shooting.  I kept walking, finally stopped, held my pistol in both hands, and took careful aim.   By this time, he was out of ammunition, having hit two water troughs and the big glass window on the general store.  I would’ve lost the bet I didn’t make.  I was sure he’d hit someone in the audience.  He didn’t.  On six shots, I hit him twice.  He dropped to the ground, screaming, had the brains to throw his pistol away, so I didn’t pull my other pistol and finish him off.  Doc managed to patch him up.  He spent much time working without pay to repay the general store for its window.”

“Amazing,” Winston said.

“Stupidest thing I ever did in my life,” Radnor said.  “Don’t ever think of doing it yourself.  Mentioning stupid or not, collecting those rocks is what I told you to do,” Radnor said, “but rocks don’t kill people.  They’re yours to keep, souveneirs, whatever, but don’t waste office space or on-duty time on them.”