McGinley's eyes darted from man to man before settling on the drawer in which he'd earlier placed his gun. His eyes narrowed: he may have been wondering what would happen if he reached quickly for it.
"Joshua," Cole spoke quietly, as if he were talking to a young horse he didn't want to spook, "Joshua, you won't need a gun."
McGinley stood up. "Guess you're right at that, Sheriff." His voice was meek, as if he knew he had no way to fight back and nowhere to run to.
As if the inevitable was just about to make an appearance.