Gideon's Way
Page 2
efficiency were absolutely vital to the proper running of civilization. On the other hand, Sheriff Gandy felt the only proper use for the myriad reports the council demanded of him was to pile the dang ledgers up and use them as a doorstop. Therein lay the root of the problem and the cause of the sheriff’s current strategical retreat.
Gandy nodded his guilt. “You?”
“Barker don’t give a dead fly over me,” Gideon evaded.
“Why are you hiding?” Gandy quietly pressed.
Gideon shrugged to deny any and all acts of hiding.
“Come on, what mischief have you been up to?”
Gideon’s eyes flickered to the hands still holding him and his ears detected the intonation he had come to know as an officer quite prepared to go on asking questions until he heard the sort of answers he wished to hear.
“Nothin’,” he said.
“Just tell me: will I hear from Mrs. Driscoll about it?”
Why not? She tells ever’body ever’thing.
“Prob’ly,” Gideon said aloud.
Mrs. Driscoll was the biggest, most self-propelled gossip for fifty miles around. And Gideon had become her favorite topic. No matter what he did, or didn’t do that she went ahead and thought he had done, that woman let the world know her opinion.
“You’re right there, at least,” Gandy agreed.
He slid down to the clean, golden straw and tugged on the hem of Gideon’s vest. Somewhat to his surprise, the boy slid down as well. Convict and lawman sat, side by side, wrapped in the half light of the big barn and mutual truancy. Hooves shuffled lazily nearby. Out in the corral a horse nickered softly. Gideon plumbed the depths of a pocket and came up with a chunk of elk jerky.
Share.
He’s a lawman.
‘Member what Aspen said.
As the eldest Rivers brother, Aspen had taken it upon himself to turn Gideon into a gentleman. The jury was still out on this and calling for extra coffee and doughnuts. According to Aspen, one of the duties of a good citizen was to play nicely with the local representatives of the law. Mostly to shut himself up, Gideon tore a strip from the dried meat and thrust it at the sheriff.
“So,” Gandy asked, after some contemplative chewing. “you ever had any jobs I wouldn’t have to arrest you for?”
Stiff silence answered.
“Gideon, we’re hiding in a stall because I’m too stubborn to give in and you’re. . . you’re you. What have you got to loose right at this moment?”
Well, there were that one time—
That were bootleg tequila.
Hmm. How about when we—
Them cards were marked. That don’t count none.
We were only cheatin’ a cheat.
Ya wanna ‘splain that to a lawman?
Not ‘zactly.
Me neither. So shutup.
How ‘bout that place down Texas way?
That ain’t no business-a his.
No, but it were legal.
“Laundry,” said Gideon, giving in to himself.
Gandy blinked. “Pardon?”
“Clothes, soap— washin’. An you can quit sniggerin’.”
Gandy raised his hands in mock surrender. Gideon Fletcher existed in a permanent state of threadbare, dirt smeared or blood stained. The idea of him in a laundry. . .
“What ‘bout you?” said Gideon. “Ya ever done nothin’ where ya weren’t arrestin’ folks?”
“I’ve always been a lawman. I was born a lawman,” Gandy answered. “But I did get arrested once.”
“What?” Gideon nearly choked on this news. “By who?”
“Wilson.”
“Your deputy?! Why?”
“You’ll have to ask him. He loves to tell the story.”
Gideon had a sudden image of himself nestled ‘round a fire sipping coffee and swapping tales with the law.
Fat chance that’ll ever happen.
Coffee was foul, but lawmen were worse. Coffee, at least, could be easily tossed out, but shooting lawmen tended to land a fellow in a whole heap of trouble. That put lawmen in first place for being inexcusably obnoxious.
“Where’s Aspen?” said Gandy, mostly because being nosey came with the badge. “Did—”
That was as far as the sheriff got before the oft incarcerated young man sharing his refuge clamped a hand over his mouth. Footsteps approached, making no effort at being surreptitious, and then deputy Wilson looked down at the unlikely pair camped in the stall.
“The council have given up hunting your hide for now, boss. The coast is clear.” Wilson tipped his chin at Gideon. “What about him?”
“Has he done something?” said Gandy. “Today, I mean?”
“There’s a couple hard cases with a good set of bruises. Looks to me like a match set to his.”
“They the ones we arrested last week for Being Naughtily Drunk In Public?
“Yep.”
“They complain?”
“I got the impression they wouldn’t be sticking around that long. I did get a visit from a young woman though. She had a pretty little girl with her.” Wilson propped a foot on the bottom rail of the stall and pushed a hand through the hair curling slightly on the back of his neck. “Funny thing though. She wanted to thank your deputy for finding the child and looking after her.”
Wilson pointedly did not look at Gideon as he said this, but Gandy certainly did.
“She also said,” Wilson continued, “that the dolly your deputy made was the sweetest gesture of kindness she has seen since venturing into this unbearably forsaken wilderness.”
“Did she now?” Gandy remarked.
Gideon eased the brim of his hat down. The effort was wasted though because his face had flushed deep red.
“She did.” The smirk tugging at the corners of Wilson’s mouth finally got loose. It wasn’t easy to make Gideon Fletcher blush. “I notice your kerchief’s missing. That fine lady must have meant this for you.”
Gideon caught the crisp, new handkerchief Wilson tossed him and crammed it under his shirt out of sight— as if it wasn’t bad enough being mistaken for one of them.
Gandy tapped Gideon's banged up hand. “You could have left those men to us, you know. That’s what we’re for.”
Yeah, right.
Gideon knew all about what lawmen were for. What they weren’t for was much good. Hence, with great vim and vigor, he took it upon himself to wrangle an ounce of justice out of life’s parsimonious grasp. People, when you got right down to it, had a sorry habit of going out of their way to act like sheep. Poor, mud-dumb sheep. They milled about until someone herded them along, then baa-ed their complaints about how the grass wasn’t as green. Heaven forbid they break from the flock and hike it over to a better hill of their very own choosing. After all, what would the neighbors think?
“So, do we arrest him?” asked Wilson.
“Let’s leave him,” Gandy declared, getting to his feet. “There’s always tomorrow.”
“Oh, he won’t last that long.”
“Why not?”
“His brothers are coming.”
“Oh, dear,” Gandy said, and then seized hold of Gideon who had made a sudden bid for freedom.
Gideon swung at one man and elbowed the other in the ribs, mostly because old habits die hard. With expert efficiency derived from years of working together, the two lawman latched onto their catch and held fast.
“C’mon,” Gideon complained, “a fellah can only take so much propriety.”
“There’s a new word in your vocabulary,” Gandy observed.
Wilson tightened his grip on Gideon's collar. “Sure beats the other words he knows, doesn’t it?”
“Now what has he been saying?”
The threesome turned to find Aspen Rivers approaching, flanked by four other young men. All of them were well-dressed, well-groomed and looking rather determined.
“What did I tell you?” Wilson teased. “Here’s your brothers ready to escort you home.”
“They ain’t my brothers,” Gideon objected.
Gandy handed Gideon over to his court appointed family. The rowdy pack of boys immediately enveloped the young man with pokes and prods and chafing that made it painfully clear they too had heard about the ribbons and lace little girl. Fort, the biggest brother, got an arm around Gideon’s neck just to make sure he— nor Gideon— missed out on any of the fun.
“Weren’t ya gonna ‘rest me?” Gideon pleaded, from somewhere in the mass.
“I’m sure your brothers will take good care of you,” Gandy replied, with a wink at his deputy.
“They ain’t my brothers!”
“You be sure and tell that to the judge next time you see him,” Wilson called back.
##########
Dear Reader,
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Writing this book has made my blood sing, my heart laugh and my soul. . .
at home.
Natalie Jayne seeks out the far and away places. She particularly enjoys going walkabout in the remote corners of her own imagination. Now if only the dang magpies would quit eating the bread crumbs.
OTHER TITLES AVAILABLE AT TWO SQUARE BOOKS PUBLISHING:
Natalie Jayne:
Between the Rivers (Rivers Series)
Indebted (Rivers Series)
Chicanery (Rivers Series)
Three Cousins (Dyslexia, dyspraxia, ADHD)
Robin Kruzik:
(Children's Picture Books)
The Stew Garden