The Sheriff (Men of the White Sandy Book 5)

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “Are you gonna be okay?” Georgey asked.

  “What do you care? We don’t hang out since you dropped out.”

  “You’re my friend,” Georgey said as if that weren’t some obvious fact. “I’d never shoot you. And I hope you wouldn’t shoot me, either. This is just your butt, man—but what if next time, it’s not?”

  Tim leaned back and gave Georgey room to work. Shorty wouldn’t tell Tim anything because he was a cop—but he might open up to his friend. Maybe.

  Shorty didn’t say anything yet, but Tim could tell he was trying not to cry.

  “Yeah, well,” he said, his voice ragged, “you’re not Levi, are you?”

  “Levi shot you? Why would he do that?” Georgey sounded genuinely confused by this, but Tim had a few ideas.

  Shorty had been the first one to talk to Tim after he busted up the gang fight. He’d been the first one Tim sent home. If someone were paranoid, he might think Shorty was the first person to turn on him. And if Levi was dealing with Los Perros, he was bound to be nothing if not paranoid.

  Dammit. The fact that Levi made bail was bad enough. But now this? Firing warning shots into boys?

  Nope. Not on his rez.

  Tim and Clarence looked at each other and Tim nodded. Clarence slipped out through the curtain to get an evidence bag for the bullet.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Shorty said miserably.

  Georgey crouched down so he could look Shorty in the eye. “Dude, it doesn’t have to be like this.”

  Shorty closed his eyes and turned his head away.

  Georgey stood up straight and put his hands on his hips, looking disgusted. “Fine, be that way. But I’m still your friend.” He stormed out from the curtains.

  Tim waited.

  “You gonna tell my mom?” Shorty finally said in a quiet voice.

  Tim snorted. “You think you’re going to be able to hide the fact you can’t sit down from her?” At least Shorty’s mom still cared. She couldn’t keep up with her kids, but she tried and that counted for a lot. “We can’t keep doing this, boy. This is the second time in three days I’ve seen you. Do you know where we go from here?”

  “Fuck off,” Shorty replied.

  It took a lot to get under Tim’s skin but this kid was putting in the extra effort. “Here’s how this goes. The next time I see you, you’ll either be dead or I’ll lock you in a cell. This isn’t a question. This is a fact. Levi might shoot you in the face—and not with some dinky little rat shot—because he wants to make an example out of you. That’s if your luck runs out. Or you’ll do something stupid to prove to him that you’re still his little errand boy and I’ll bust what’s left of your ass down to brass tacks so fast you won’t have time to tell anyone to fuck off. Do I make myself clear? And if I have to lock you in a cell to keep you safe, I will.”

  He realized he was shouting but here he was again, struggling to keep another kid alive and out of jail and this time, he was losing the battle. He’d have thought nearly getting his head blown off in a turf war then being scared shitless by Nobody would have put the fear of God into Shorty—but no. He’d gone right back to Levi—and paid the price.

  “Anyone else around when he shot you?” If there were other witnesses willing to put the gun in Levi’s hands, retaliation would be harder to successfully pull off.

  “No,” came the weak reply.

  Yup. Paranoia in action. “I’m going to call your mom—assuming Tara hasn’t done so already. You’re going to lay low for the rest of this damn summer.”

  “No!” Shorty was openly crying now.

  Tim waited, letting the silence stretch.

  “He said if I talked to you again, he’d kill me.” The kid looked up at him, eyes wide with terror. “He thinks I told you about the guns.”

  Tim cursed silently. Shorty hadn’t—but Georgey had. Crap. What Tim needed was a plan. He couldn’t have Levi running around his rez—but he wasn’t about to dangle a terrified fifteen-year-old boy with a flesh wound as bait.

  He had to get Shorty off this rez without anyone knowing about it. Which really only left him with one option.

  The kid was not going to like this.

  He crouched down close to Shorty’s ear, just in case anyone was listening. “I’m going to call your mom and you’re going to go home and pack a bag and wait,” Tim told him. “Nobody will come get you and he’ll get you off this rez.”

  “What?” Shorty yelped.

  Tim smacked the kid on the shoulder. “Shut up, Shorty. I’m trying to save your damn life. Your grandma—she still lives over on Rosebud?” The kid nodded, biting his lip. “You’re going to stay with her for the rest of the summer—no arguments. If I find you on the White Sandy, I’ll arrest you.”

  “But my sister…” he whimpered. “Gramma doesn’t have that much money…”

  Goddamnit all to hell. It would be hard enough for the older woman to feed one extra mouth—two would be impossible. Tim squeezed his eyes shut. If Levi was okay with shooting his own gopher, he might just take a little girl as insurance.

  Thankfully, Tim had an option. “I have a place I can put her for the summer—not with you,” he added. The Last Hope ranch butted up against the far western edge of the White Sandy and was run by Sam Kenady, the granddaughter of one of Tim’s grandmother’s oldest friends. Sam hadn’t grown up on the rez, but she took in strays and lost souls—as long as they were women. No men were allowed on the Last Hope ranch. Sam would take in a twelve-year-old girl for the summer, as long as the kid was willing to work.

  “But if I send you to your grandmother’s, you have to help out. She’s not your maid, got it? And if you get in trouble again, I won’t protect you. Understood?”

  He thought the boy nodded, which was good enough. Tim left him quietly crying in his little curtained room. God, he hated this. He hated when his own people declared war on their kids. Levi was becoming a problem that needed a solution.

  Levi was a problem because Dwayne was in prison. If Tim locked Levi up, someone else would rush into the void. It’d never end, this vicious circle of violence he was stuck in. All he could do was try to hold back the chaos, working long hours and hoping that when—not if—he got shot, it hit him in the vest and just bruised him. And all he could do was take it, take the simmering hatred and the deaths and the suffering—and he’d take it alone. This was his burden, his cross to bear.

  Then he saw Georgey waiting for him, a small plastic baggie with a bullet in his hand. And he remembered the kid said maybe he wanted to be a cop—after he got his GED. And he remembered Summer was at his place, that she’d wrapped his ribs and made him dinner and kissed him this morning before she’d been awake enough to realize it, simply because she was glad to see him. And he was going back home to her tonight, him and Georgey.

  And he thought maybe…

  It was still his burden, but maybe he could carry it just a little bit longer.

  Chapter Ten

  The problem with the reservation, Summer decided, was it was in the middle of nowhere. She knew that, of course—she’d already been lost on it once. But driving an hour to get to the community college, then driving almost another two and a half hours to get to a grocery store in Rapid City and driving back to Tim’s place to put the groceries away was basically her day. Why was a convenience store the only place to get groceries on this whole reservation? For Pete’s sake. What did the people who couldn’t drive to Wall or Rapid City do for food?

  But the good news was the community college was delighted to have a certified teacher pick up a few GED classes and tutor students who needed help with English. Not for a lot of money—minimum wage. But still, it was some money and her hours would be flexible. The kind of flexible where she could pretty much show up and leave whenever she wanted.

  Plus she could bring Georgey with her whenever she wanted. So as soon as Tim got done making him fulfill his community service, such as it was, she could spend the rest of the summer work
ing with Georgey on his reading. A GED might be out of reach right now, but if she could at least get him tested into a high-school level when they got back to Minneapolis…

  It was strange how not-exciting the thought of going back felt.

  There was one staff member at the college who had worked with dyslexic students before, but Summer was essentially on her own here. She’d logged into the college’s wifi and done some research. Her instincts had been mostly correct—audio books, lectures instead of assigned readings, that sort of thing.

  But something else she’d found on a website mentioned using magazines and graphic novels—lots of pictures, smaller groups of words—to work on reading. Even comic strips could be useful. The smaller texts were less overwhelming, apparently. While she had a functioning connection, she’d downloaded some audio books to her phone—the entire Harry Potter series and the Percy Jackson series for starters. Boys in her classes read those—plus, Percy Jackson had dyslexia. Perfect.

  Thus armed with knowledge and something that felt like a plan, Summer promised she’d be back the next day. She’d then driven to Rapid City to shop at a Supermart.

  Tim did not have an abundance of food—certainly not enough for three people, especially when one of those three was an underfed teenaged boy. Last night’s dinner had been scraping the very bottom of his pantry. She knew Tim didn't expect her to cook and do the shopping, but she felt like it was the least she could do, considering how far out of his way he’d gone to take in Georgey and make room for her.

  The odd thing was, it had almost nothing to do with him kissing her.

  Almost.

  He’d left before she really woken up this morning. She was pretty sure she’d kissed him and coffee had been involved, but beyond that?

  She had all that time in the car today to think over what he’d said last night.

  Who, back in Minneapolis, was missing her right now? And when she went back to that life, would it be enough?

  A part of her was 100% certain it was. She was Summer Collins. She was a teacher. She had friends and a life. Sure, she was still establishing herself. She had a small—no, scratch that—cozy apartment. And no, she didn’t have a big social circle. But she wasn’t the kind of person who needed one. She got all her peopling done at school and was perfectly happy to go home and enjoy the peace and quiet. So no, Tim didn't know her at all.

  Except…

  She didn’t need a bunch of people to miss her. But one or two might be nice.

  Which was why, before she did her shopping, she found herself in the parking lot of Supermart, doing the very last thing she wanted to do.

  She called her mother.

  “Where are you?” her mother snapped before Summer could even say hi. Which was not the best start to the conversation.

  “Rapid City. South Dakota,” she added, although she didn’t know why. Her mother was many things, but clueless about basic geography wasn’t one of them.

  There was a tense pause. “I can’t help but realize that’s on the far side of the state. Not closer to Minnesota.” It sounded like her mother was grinding her teeth.

  Summer grimaced and ignored the guilt trip. “There’s no reception on the reservation, Mom. I came into town to get some groceries and wanted to check in with you. How are you? Is everything okay?”

  “You’re not coming home?” Each word was an accusation.

  “Of course I’m coming home,” she protested, trying to figure out how to get out of this call and knowing full well it was her own damned fault she was having this conversation in the first place. Of course, if she hadn’t checked in, her mother would be furious too. Basically there was no way Summer could win, so she might as well take her lumps now. “But I’m going to be out here for a few more weeks. I got a part-time job,” she offered weakly.

  “You're staying out there?” Each word was a dagger tipped with the most dangerous poison known to womankind—guilt. “Out there with…them?”

  “Mom…”

  “Don’t you ‘Mom’ me, young lady. This is completely unacceptable. I’ve spent years shielding you from the poor choices your father made—years, I tell you.”

  “Poor choices? Mom, he didn’t choose to be Lakota.”

  Linda Collins physically hissed at the word, as if Summer had said fuck off instead of the proper name of her tribe. “Those people are nothing but drunks.”

  She thought of Tim, of Georgey and Jack and Clarence and Tammy and even Nobody, that shadowy guy. Not a drunk among them.

  In fact, if it weren’t been for the small matter of the gang war, Summer hadn’t seen anything unusual, except more poverty than she was comfortable with. “They’re just people, Mom. Like you and me.”

  Her mother gasped in true horror.

  Why had Summer said that? Why was she pushing the issue? All she’d needed to do was call and check in and let her mother lecture her a little bit, then get on with her day. She had a huge shopping list and a long drive home and…

  Except it wasn’t home, not hers. It was Tim’s home. She was just a guest.

  “This is unacceptable, Summer. Just completely unacceptable. I raised you better than this.”

  Something in her mind snapped. “And how was that? White? You cut me off from half my culture!”

  A stunned silence gripped both of them. What the hell had she just said? Summer mentally replayed the accusation—that was the only thing she could call it—but it’d just appeared out of nowhere.

  It was also the unfortunate truth. Her mother had cut her father out of her life, and with him, everything that made her a Lakota. Including her brother.

  And Summer had just…let her. Tim had been right. She was missing something and she’d found it on a windswept prairie.

  “You are not one of them,” her mother said in a dangerously low voice. “And I can’t believe you would throw away everything I’ve done to protect you…”

  “Well, it’s been nice chatting,” Summer heard herself say, as if she were very far away from herself. “But I’ve got errands to run. I’ll let you know when I’m back in Minneapolis, okay? Take care. Love you, Mom.”

  Before her mother could say anything else, Summer hung up. She sat there for long minutes, staring at her phone. She half thought her mom might call her back, but she didn’t and Summer didn’t hit redial, either.

  Is that what her mother told herself? That she was protecting Summer from—from what? From some harsh reality, where Linda Collins had married Leonard Two Elks, then changed her mind? From knowing half her own family? From…

  From having someone who would miss her when she was gone?

  Well, one thing was for certain.

  She was done being shielded.

  ***

  By the time Tim pulled up in front of this house, it was past six and he was pretty sure he hadn’t fed Georgey lunch. Nothing today had gone like it was supposed to. What should have been a quiet day at the station, getting caught up on paperwork while Georgey scrubbed the whole place, had turned into an all-day affair of tracking down people and making plans and back-up plans and trying to find Levi and failing.

  For better or worse, Tim had given Georgey a true ride-along. In addition to trying to get Shorty taking care of, Tim had also gone out on three other calls. Some idiot had tried to stick up the Kum N’ Go gas station on the north edge of the rez, but the clerk held a shotgun on the would-be robber until Tim rolled in and arrested the guy—some white guy from off the rez, which meant more paperwork and more headaches.

  There’d been a domestic battery call, with a wife who insisted she didn’t want to press charges—or be taken to the Clinic to have her black eyes checked out. And there had been a report of drag racing—although no one had been at the site of the race by the time Tim and Georgey got there.

  All in all, it had been one hell of a busy day. Tim was hungry, he was tired and he hurt. That was normal. He could deal with it if that was all. But it wasn’t.

  “�
� go with you tomorrow?” Georgey was saying excitedly as he put his shoulder to the door.

  “We’ll see,” Tim said, then the smell of something wonderful hit him—fried chicken.

  He absolutely did not expect Summer Collins to cook for him. And he was equally sure he didn’t have any chicken. But God, after the day he had? Almost twelve solid hours of hauling Georgey around and trying to keep the peace on this rez? And to know when he came home, not only would she be here, but she’d do something simply wonderful, like making dinner?

  Summer Collins was too good to be true. It was heaven.

  “Summer!” Georgey said, bursting into the house before Tim could string together two coherent thoughts. “It was so cool! I’m gonna be a cop when I grow up!”

  Summer turned from where was frying chicken at the stove. “Is that so?” she said in what Tim considered to be a very calm voice.

  “Yeah! I rode along with Tim all day today—it was so cool. Shorty got shot in the butt then we tried to find Levi and then we—”

  “Zip it, kid.” Tim shot Georgey a look. “Some of that stuff is confidential, remember?” Because that had been the deal.

  Georgey had to keep his mouth shut about the plan for Shorty. If anyone else knew where Shorty was going and how he was going to get there, the whole thing would be pointless. So far, the only people who knew were Tim, Shorty, Georgey, Nobody, Clarence and Jack. Tim wanted to keep it that way.

  “Right, right.” Georgey started hopping from foot to foot, which made him look all of twelve. Still, it was nice to see him excited about something

  “Dinner is almost ready,” Summer said in a gentle voice. Or maybe that was just a normal voice. Maybe she just sounded gentler than anyone else had all day long. “Georgey, go wash up. And after dinner, I have some things for you.”

  Georgey looked like he might want to argue with this, but then he said, “Did you buy me…presents?”

  Summer winked. Winked! “I might have. Scoot.” She lifted out another piece of fried chicken and put it on a plate. Georgey’s mouth went slack and Tim was pretty sure he was drooling. He felt even worse because he definitely hadn’t made sure the kid ate lunch today.