Support Your Local Sheriff

by Melinda Curtis

  Arturo set Julie’s plate down last. “I had the kitchen add cinnamon glaze to your empanada.”

  Julie’s eyes lit up. “Arturo, your wife is one lucky woman.”

  “I’m not married.” Arturo clucked his tongue and gave her an appreciative once-over. “And neither are you.”

  “She’s not interested,” Nate growled, feeling proprietary. He buttered Duke’s pancakes to keep from growling further at his friend.

  “Who says I’m not interested?” Julie gave Arturo a calculated smile.

  “This is why I’m single. Too many arguments.” Arturo laughed and moved to the next table.

  “That’s not why he’s single.” Nate narrowed his eyes. “He thinks of himself as a ladies’ man.”

  “The ladies love me,” Arturo tossed over his shoulder.

  “Ladies over sixty-five,” Nate said, qualifying and loading his fork. “Ladies who tip well.”

  Julie said nothing. Her attention had dropped to her plate. She’d never been much good at multitasking.

  There was a lull in both conversation and argument while they dug into their food. Several minutes later, Duke was slowing down on his pancake, eating with his fingers and getting nearly as much in his mouth as on his face, hands and sweatshirt.

  Julie was perking up. The empanada was nearly gone. Her coffee cup had been refilled again. But sugar and caffeine couldn’t erase the look of exhaustion on her face. She needed someone to care for her. Fat chance of her letting it be him.

  Nate cleared his throat. “What was April’s criteria for my gaining custody?”

  Julie pinned him with an intense gaze. “She called it the Daddy Test.”

  Just hearing the name made him uneasy. “I take it April made the test up.”

  “She did.” Julie nodded, a mix of superiority and satisfaction in her eyes. She didn’t expect him to pass.

  The quickest way out of fatherhood was to fail. Little Duke was awesome and deserved a loving home with someone who knew how to provide it for him. Julie had already offered. She’d do an excellent job. So it made no sense that he said, “Your test won’t hold up in a court of law.”

  “I know.” Color appeared in her cheeks. Arguing with him seemed to do that to her. “But I also know you won’t push the issue. We were friends once. You’ll wait to hear my evaluation.”

  He shouldn’t. And he wouldn’t have. Except, the longer it took Julie to assess him, the longer she’d stay in Harmony Valley. Worst case, she’d have a chance to find some peace from the shooting. “If I agree, you have to stay for a month.”

  She frowned. “I don’t have to agree to anything.”

  “You can stay until the doctor clears you for duty.” He could make amends to April if he helped her get through this. Troubled and injured as she was, she couldn’t properly care for Duke or herself.

  “The doctor will clear me for a desk job sooner if I pass my psych eval.” Her frown deepened to a scowl. She knew she wouldn’t pass anytime soon. “Besides, I can’t afford to stay here a month.”

  “You could stay with me for free.” Before she made a decision, Nate’s phone chirped and vibrated.

  In the distance, a siren split the spring air.

  “I have to go.” Nate stood, hesitating as he looked down at his son, suddenly loathe to leave. He stroked Duke’s unruly black curls and said, “Be good.” And then Nate looked at Julie. “You, too.”

  She scoffed.

  Men and women of all ages were coming out of Martin’s and El Rosal. The volunteer firefighters were mobilizing, as were the lookie-loos. Nate needed to lead the pack, not trail behind.

  “We’ll talk later,” he said to Julie, who looked like she was eager to join in on a good emergency call.

  If it was excitement she was missing, she wouldn’t find it in Harmony Valley.

  Nate checked his phone for the address, but it was just as easy to follow the volunteers and spectators up the switchbacks to the top of Parish Hill. Having arrived at a thinly graveled, rutted driveway belonging to a crotchety old man, some turned around when they saw the sign—Trespassers Will Be Shot. Rutgar wasn’t known for exaggeration.

  Nate parked his truck along the two-lane road. He walked to the rear of the property with Gage, the town vet.

  “What’s this I hear about you being a dad?” Gage wasn’t as tall as Nate, but they had the same long-legged stride.

  Nate knew gossip in Harmony Valley traveled fast. But this was light speed. “Just found out he existed last night. He’s two.”

  “That must have been a shock.” Gage spared Nate a searching glance. “And here I was telling Doc not to spread rumors.”

  Nate fought the urge to smile, to preen, to high-five. Those were the responses of a proud and loving dad. Still, he wouldn’t lie about being a father. “Let Doc run with the news. It’s true.”

  “Congratulations. I think I’ve still got some cigars from when Mae was born.” Gage slapped Nate soundly on the back. “While I’ve got you here... I’m still learning the emergency codes. What are we responding to? I don’t see smoke.”

  “Injury.”

  The closest thing they had to a doctor in town was Patti, a retired nurse practitioner. She was currently enjoying an Alaskan cruise. The first responders would stabilize and arrange transport to medical services in nearby Cloverdale, if necessary.

  Nate and Gage reached the end of the driveway and a two-story house sitting on stilts. It was painted a dirty brown and surrounded by towering pines that had probably been saplings when it was built. The town’s fire engine was parked in front of the steps leading to the porch, where the home’s owner sat and howled his displeasure.

  “No! The last time someone wanted me to be seen by a doctor, I spent days in the hospital.” Rutgar was a bear of a man, with gray-blond hair that swept past his shoulders and a long gray-blond beard that swept up dinner crumbs. His gaze roved around the gathered emergency workers. “Where’s Gage? He can look at my ankle.”

  “Although you’re bullheaded, you aren’t a bull.” Gage wound his way through the crowd, followed by Nate, until they reached the two uniformed fire personnel. “And I prefer patients who don’t talk back.”

  “What happened?” Nate asked Ben, the fire captain.

  “Rutgar missed the top step, fell and slid to the bottom. Tried to catch himself with his foot on the post down here.” Ben turned his back to Rutgar and lowered his voice, although the gathered volunteers had no qualms closing ranks to hear better. “He needs an X-ray of his ankle. He says his head hurts and when Mandy tried to get him to stand, he vomited. He might have a concussion.”

  “I’ll take him to the hospital,” Nate offered, despite wanting to get back to Julie and Duke.

  “I can drive him.” Flynn joined them. “I know you’ve got things to do.” The new dad raised an eyebrow, daring Nate to contradict him.

  Nate did nonetheless. “Are you sure? What about Becca and Ian?”

  “How long can it take?” Flynn shrugged.

  Hours, but Nate wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rutgar was more demanding than a toddler in the terrible-two stage. “I’ll send folks back down the hill so you can get your truck in.”

  Nate walked toward the road, stopping at each car to convey the basics—that Rutgar had fallen and needed nonemergency medical care. Slowly, cars began to wend their way back downhill.

  A classic blue Cadillac convertible swung wide around the switchback, nearly driving the faded green Buick that carried the town council off the road.

  Nate flagged down the Caddy driver, who nearly ran him over before stopping in the middle of Rutgar’s driveway. “Lilac, you aren’t supposed to be behind the wheel.”

  Lilac blinked behind her large tortoiseshell sunglasses and flung the end of her
maroon paisley scarf over one shoulder before answering coyly, “Is that you, Sheriff?”

  “If you can’t tell it’s me,” Nate said stiffly, “you shouldn’t be driving.”

  “Pfft.” Lilac waved a beringed hand. “No one has twenty-twenty vision anymore.”

  “Just those who drive legally,” Nate muttered. And then he added in a loud voice in case Lilac hadn’t put in her hearing aids, “There’s nothing to see here. Go home and park your car in the driveway.” Where he could see it on his rounds and know she wasn’t being a menace on the roads.

  Lilac lifted her nose in the air. “Doris says I should be able to drive wherever and whenever I want.”

  Annoyance pounded in his temples and threatened to flatten what little patience he had left. “The agreement you made after nearly killing Chad Healy was you’d only drive in an emergency.”

  “There’s an emergency here.” Lilac let her foot off the brake and the Caddy lurched forward.

  “Stop!” Nate slapped a hand on a blue bubble fender. “They’re going to be taking Rutgar to the hospital any minute. I need the driveway free of vehicles.” He’d cleared it enough to get Flynn’s truck in a few minutes before her arrival.

  Lilac pouted. “I didn’t even get to see.”

  “There’s nothing to see.” And he doubted she could make out the details if she stood on Rutgar’s steps next to him. “Rutgar may have sprained an ankle. No blood. No bone.”

  “How did he fall? And when? And...” She pursed her lips. “Never mind. I’ll find the juice in the phone tree.” She put the car in Reverse, and then stared up at him with renewed interest. “So you’re a father?”

  “Yes.” He snapped, as if the fact annoyed him, when it was Lilac who’d gotten under his skin.

  After helping Lilac make a ten-point turn, Nate returned to the house to help load Rutgar into Flynn’s truck. It took both Nate and Gage to get him moving with a shoulder under each arm. Even then, when the big man staggered, all three men nearly stumbled.

  “Wait,” Rutgar said when Nate tried to shut the truck door.

  “I found it!” Ben hurried down the front stairs carrying a small red pillow with a cupcake silk-screened on it. Not exactly what one expected a fireman to rescue.

  “Don’t judge a man by his pillow.” Without opening his eyes, Rutgar tucked the pillow beneath his back. “Jessica gave me this.”

  “Jessica, who owns Martin’s Bakery?” Nate asked with a straight face. “Recently married?” Forty years or so Rutgar’s junior.

  “There’s no other Jessica in town,” Rutgar huffed. “Do you know how hard it is to find a good woman? And then Duffy beat me to the punch. You’ve got to be quick when you find The One.”

  Nate thought about Julie. She’d make someone The Perfect One. She was the kind of woman you went slow with. Not that Nate planned on going for Julie at all.

  Nate closed the truck door and watched Flynn drive away. Only then did he notice the shot-up cans on the fence posts. It looked like Rutgar was holding target practice. Nate hadn’t seen cans set up like that in a long time.

  Dad had driven far on Nate’s eighth birthday.

  They could have gone to the dirt bike track to try Nate’s rifle. That’s where Bobby Leaf and his dad went shooting, early in the morning before the motocross people showed up. They could have gone to the dump, because it was Sunday and it was closed. That’s where Ignacio Maldonado went with his dad.

  Instead, Dad drove. They left Willows far behind them. Dad steered them down back roads and drank beer, muttering to himself about how much he hated his life. The shine Nate had felt upon receiving his birthday gift began to fade.

  He was older now. He knew how the world worked. You had to hide your emotions from Dad—the joy, the sadness, the tears. And the smiles and laughter. Especially the smiles and laughter. You had to be good and quiet and sit in the corner where no one noticed you, Dad particularly. When Dad drank too many beers, he passed out. Or he shouted. Hurtful words, his third grade teacher would’ve said about his father’s language. “Let it slide off,” Mom would say after a particularly bad day. Mom, Molly and Nate had to take Dad’s words in silence or he’d slap someone, usually Mom.

  This time, Mom wasn’t around to deal with Dad. This time, it was Nate, now a man. Being a man meant Nate had to act like one. He rubbed his cheek where Dad had smacked him a few weeks ago. The sky seemed to darken. Eight didn’t seem so old anymore.

  “I bet you’re a good shot,” Ben said from behind him, startling Nate out of his reverie.

  Nate made a noncommittal noise and then walked to his truck, still lost in the past.

  The spot Dad chose to shoot was isolated—a small grove of eucalyptus trees set away from the road.

  When they pulled up, Nate’s stomach had growled. He’d been so excited, he hadn’t eaten his birthday pancakes before they’d left.

  Hunger wasn’t the worst of his problems. Dad had stopped drinking. He wasn’t loud, but he wasn’t happy either. He kept turning his heavy-lidded stare toward Nate. That stare said something wasn’t to his liking.

  Nate wished he hadn’t gotten that rifle. He wished he was back in town, stomach full of pancakes, sitting in bible study and pretending to pay attention.

  “Grab those cans.” Dad pointed to the six empty beer cans at his feet and then across the field. “Set them up on that fallen log.”

  “Yes, sir.” Nate hurried to do his father’s bidding. He’d just placed the last one when a shot rang out. Nate could swear a bullet whizzed past his head.

  His father swore. “Missed.”

  Nate scurried back to his father’s side. “Was it a deer? Can I try?”

  “Ammo is expensive,” Dad grumbled, giving Nate that heavy-lidded stare again.

  “But it’s my birthday.” And they’d come all this way.

  Dad squinted at him. “How old are you?”

  “Eight. Same age as you when Grandpa gave you a rifle.” Nate knew the story well. He picked up the rifle, the new symbol of his manhood. He reached for the box of ammo on the ground and then hesitated, looking up at Dad. “Can I?”

  Dad nodded slowly, backing up. He held his gun with two hands, ready to lift and fire, the way hunters did when they knew prey was near.

  Nate loaded two shells. He drew the gun up. It was heavier than Matthew’s BB gun, heavier still than Tony’s video game gun. It took him a moment to find his balance, feet far enough apart to compensate for the weight of the barrel. “Five says I hit that second can.” It was a phrase he and his friends used. Five meaning five cents. Sometimes they didn’t even have the nickels to back up the bet.

  “Shoot like your life depends on it.” Dad’s voice wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t friendly either. “Not for a five.”

  Nate drew a breath and slowly squeezed the trigger. The recoil knocked him back. The gunshot filled his ears and sent black birds flying from the trees. “I hit it! Did you see?” Nate turned to his father, practically bumping into the muzzle of his gun.

  He’d expected to see pride on his father’s face. He didn’t expect to see tears in his eyes. “Get in the truck.”

  “But, Dad, I only shot once.” And he’d hit the can!

  “Get in the truck before I change my mind.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I’VE BEEN WATCHING you from inside the restaurant.” The short, stout woman sat down across from Julie at El Rosal. “My name is Doris Schlotski and you’re a cop.”

  “Yes.” Julie pushed her mug to the center of the table. She’d been thinking it was time to leave and this was her cue. She dipped her paper napkin in her water glass and began cleaning Duke’s hands.

  “You’re a cop,” Doris repeated as if Julie hadn’t spoken. “But you’re also a mother.” She patted Duke on the head almost a
s an afterthought. “It must be hard to be a working mom.”

  Julie didn’t feel like a working mom. She and her mother had been sharing the duty of taking care of Duke. Mom worked at a shoe store in the mall and had more regular hours than Julie did. And they had a flexible daycare provider in the mix.

  “There’s not much crime in Harmony Valley,” Doris went on. “You might almost say the job of sheriff is a cakewalk.”

  She’d bet not. No law enforcement job was easy.

  Duke grinned at their unexpected visitor and said his favorite words in the world. “I Duke.”

  The old woman ignored him, glancing furtively over her shoulder and around the outdoor seating area as if she was on an important spy mission and she was a very bad spy. And then Doris stretched her shoulders over the table, lowering her voice. “How would you like to be sheriff of Harmony Valley?”

  “You mean, work for Nate?” That would drive them both crazy.

  Still leaning forward, Doris shook her head. “You were there last night. You know what I mean.”

  “You’re looking for a pawn for the election.” But wouldn’t running for the job irk Nate? It was tempting. Oh, so tempting.

  “I’m looking to surprise the town council with a viable alternative.” Doris sized her up. “I can tell there’s no love lost between you and Nate. The title of sheriff would look good on your résumé. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

  Julie kept her opinion to herself. She wanted full custody of Duke. She wanted the courage to suit up for SWAT again. She didn’t want the job of sheriff in a Podunky town where the worst lawbreaker was retired and a whiner.

  She met the retired whiner’s gaze squarely.

  “Think about it for a day or so, and let me know.” Doris stood and then slunk away, as if she didn’t want to be seen with Julie.

  Julie’s cell phone buzzed with a message from Captain Bradford: Psych eval in two days. Be there.

  She replied, assuring him she would be and then sat, worrying about the test.

  I have to pass.