The Shining Badge

by Gilbert, Morris

  “No, I don’t . . .” She turned and fell silent as Judge Hightower came in. He walked over to her and nodded pleasantly. “Good morning, Sheriff. How are you, Billy and Ruby?”

  They all responded to the judge, and finally he said, “I heard about the fight. Good thing you were there, Billy.”

  “Yes, it was,” Jenny said shortly. She knew the judge had implied that she would not have been able to handle the Cundiffs on her own, and worse than that, she knew he was right.

  “Come back to my office, Judge.”

  She led the judge back to the tiny cubicle, no more than ten feet square, with room enough only for a desk and a filing cabinet and two chairs. The judge sat down and said, “I came by to talk to you about Harold Porter and Mattie. They’re distant relatives of mine, you know.”

  “So I understand, Judge.”

  “They’re not top-drawer material, but I’m going to have a talk with them and see that they do their work better.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Judge.”

  Hightower lifted his eyebrows. “Oh, you’ve already talked to them?”

  “I’m firing them.”

  Surprising Judge Dwight Hightower was not an easy thing to do, but Jenny saw that she had succeeded. A slight shock registered in his eyes, but he covered it quickly and regarded her intently. He was a handsome man filled with determination and had a reputation for being absolutely ruthless when it came to getting his own way.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Sheriff. I think you’re making a mistake.”

  “Would you care to have lunch with us today? You’d get to sample some of their cooking.”

  “You won’t reconsider?”

  “No, I won’t,” Jenny said firmly. “They’re a drain on the taxpayer, and I’ve already decided on the new jailer.”

  “And who might that be?”

  “Noah Valentine.”

  Once again Jenny saw with pleasure that she had shaken the judge. “Well, you may have a little problem there.”

  “I don’t think so, Judge. He’s a good man, a fine cook, and he knows how to clean a place.”

  For a moment it seemed as though Hightower would allow anger to get the best of him, and Jenny hoped that he would. His face grew flushed, and his lips grew tight, and she saw the anger dancing in his eyes. She was disappointed when he looked down for a moment and then looked up and smiled pleasantly. “Well, you’re the sheriff. It’s your decision.” He rose and started for the door. When he reached it, he turned and said, “Oh, by the way. We’re having a commissioners’ meeting tonight. I’m afraid it’s going to be necessary to cut your budget a little.”

  “Unless I keep the Porters on?”

  “Why, there’s no connection.” Hightower smiled pleasantly. “You and I ought to get along together, Sheriff. We don’t need dissension in county government. Think about it.” He turned and left, and Jenny felt a tinge of cold anger such as she had rarely felt. She knew there was evil in this man, and she knew that he was going to do everything in his power to hurt her. But she refused to give in to his threats.

  The sun was setting by the time Jenny reached her favorite spot in the woods near the secluded bend of the river. She was hot and sweaty, and the thought of a swim seemed enticing. Without stopping to consider it, she took the trail that led deep into the timber. The road was an old logging road, but since the country had been logged out, the weeds had grown up again. When she pulled up within fifteen feet of the shallow part of the river that formed an excellent swimming hole, she shut the engine off and sat for a moment, just enjoying the silence. Getting out of the car then, she reached into the backseat and pulled out the paper bag. She had promised Kat to take her swimming the previous day but had not been able to do it because of the affair with the Cundiffs. Now she fished out her swimming suit, changed quickly, and simply draped her clothes over the hood of the car. She followed the small, narrow path to the river’s edge. The river had a sandy bottom at this point, and she waded out, then settled down. The water was deliciously cool, and she put her head under and swam strongly out away from the shore. The river’s bend formed a small bay, and for a time she simply floated, enjoying the silence as the sun went down. The moon was becoming visible, and she stared up at the silver orb, thinking about the day and mostly about the threat of Judge Dwight Hightower.

  She was suddenly alarmed when she heard the sound of a car. It was coming close, and fear ran through her. Her first thought, as irrational as it was, was of the Cundiffs or someone like them. Quickly, with strong strokes, she swam toward the bank. As she waded out of the water, car lights came on and she moved quickly toward the unfamiliar vehicle, not knowing who she might find.

  As Jenny emerged from the path into the open spot, she was blinded by a flashing light. A voice cried out, “That was a great shot, Sheriff! Be sure you get a copy of The Daily Standard. You’ll be on the front page tomorrow.”

  Jenny was almost totally blinded by what she knew was a flashbulb. Several more flashes went off, and there was the sound of raucous male laughter and crude remarks. Then she heard another car start up and recognized it as her squad car. She had time only to see the dust rise as the squad car pulled away. She cried out futilely, “Come back!” but both cars were gone. She heard them as they reached the highway and turned and then the sound faded.

  Standing there in the darkness, Jennifer Winslow had never felt so vulnerable. She looked around, hoping her clothes were left, but the vandals had taken them too. Her mind began to function, and she thought, They followed me from town. I don’t know what for, but they got pictures of me—and they stole the car. It’ll be all over the county tomorrow.

  The moon shone down on Jenny, and she suddenly felt tears well up in her eyes. She wanted to cry and wail out loud, but fiercely she rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes and then settled down. “They won’t beat me! I won’t let them!” She lifted her head, pressed the water out of her hair, and started walking. It was in her mind to walk all the way home, a distance of five miles at least, but as she reached the highway she saw lights on the other side and realized it was Clay Varek’s house. Humiliation filled her, but she knew she had to have help. The highway was empty, no cars were coming, so she walked down the side road.

  When she got near to the house, she stood in the shadows of the yard and called out, “Clay! Clay Varek!”

  Almost at once Clay opened the front door. She could make him out in the bright moonlight, pistol in hand. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Jenny Winslow.”

  He stepped out onto the front porch and started down the stairs toward her. Jenny said, “I need help, Clay. Can you get me a blanket, please?”

  Clay Varek stopped, stared at her, then said, “Come on in.” He turned back toward the house and entered ahead of her, and by the time she reached the door he was there with a blanket. She wrapped it around herself, and he said, “Come on in. Jamie’s asleep.”

  He led her into the kitchen, pulled out a chair for her, and poured her a cup of coffee. He did not ask a single question until he brought the coffee and said, “You want sugar?”

  “No, just black is fine.” Her hands were unsteady, and she could not conceal it. Then she looked up, the misery clearly written on her face. “I stopped for a swim, Clay. It was so hot, and while I was there a car drove up. When I got out of the water, someone took pictures of me. A man called out to me that they’d be in The Daily Standard.” Jenny recognized the name of the competing newspaper from a nearby township.

  “Did you recognize their voices?”

  “No, but they must have followed me. Nobody could find that swimming hole accidentally—especially when it was almost dark.”

  Clay poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down. He did not look at her directly but stared down into the cup, swirling the black liquid. “Well, it’s come quicker than I thought.”

  “What, Clay?”

  Varek lifted his eyes. “I knew Max Conroy and
his crowd wouldn’t let it alone. Obviously they’ve been following you, and that rag The Daily Standard will print anything.”

  “I’ll have to resign.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  Jenny stared at him. “But what can I do?”

  “You just keep on. You’ve got enemies, and now you know it. But don’t quit. That would be a mistake.” He got up suddenly and said, “I’ll get you some of my clothes. They’ll be too big, but better than that wet suit.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jenny, wearing Varek’s old clothes, sat in the front seat of his car holding Jamie. The child had awakened but had gone back to sleep again when they had gotten into the car.

  As they drove along, Clay said, “You’ll have to put out a call about your car. It’s not going to look good.”

  “No, I’ll look like an utter fool—which I am!”

  “You’re not a fool, Jenny. You’re just not used to dealing with scum. Don’t let them run you off. You told me once you thought God put you in this place. Well, if God put you there, He can keep you there.”

  Jenny did not speak. In her misery, the warmth of Clay’s words soothed her. She looked over to him and held the child tightly to her breast. “Thank you, Clay,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Front Page

  Lying flat on her back, Jenny stared up at the ceiling. The first gray lights of dawn filtered through her window, throwing a ghostly illumination over the high ceiling. Putting her hands up over her head and locking her arms together, she discovered that she was stiff and tense—as she had been most of the night. Her sleep had been broken by fantastic dreams almost like visions, and as she lay there trying to relax, she went over and over the events of the previous night. They seemed to come involuntarily, and she could not help watching them in her mind’s eye.

  Suddenly she sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She stared across the room but without seeing the gaily-colored wallpaper she had labored so hard to paste up. From somewhere far away came the mournful sound of a dog howling, as if to announce the coming of the new day—and on the heels of that, a rooster announcing that the night was over. “Get up—get up!” his crowing seemed to say. It was a sound Jenny ordinarily loved, but now she hardly noticed it. She tried to pray but discovered it was one of those times that the heavens seemed to be made of brass.

  Getting slowly out of bed, she turned on the lamp, blinking at the brightness of the light, then looked up into the mirror. She had forgotten how terrible a black eye could look, and now she saw that the flesh surrounding her eye was still a rainbow coalition of red, orange, sickly yellow, and brilliant purple. Tenderly she touched it, winced, then resolutely turned away.

  Dressing quickly, she sat down, pulled out her Bible, and began to read. She was reading through the Old Testament and had reached the Third Psalm. Her lips moved as she whispered the words aloud:

  “Lord, how are they increased that trouble me! Many

  are they that rise up against me.

  Many there be which say of my soul, there is no help

  for him in God.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to frame some sort of petition but was overwhelmed with a sense of self-pity. She shook her head angrily, muttering “This won’t do!” She began to read again and slowly the words began to sink into her spirit:

  “But thou, O Lord, art a shield for me; my glory, and

  the lifter up of mine head.

  I cried unto the Lord with my voice, and he heard me

  out of his holy hill.

  I laid me down and slept—”

  Suddenly Jenny felt the presence of the Lord in the room. She remembered the setting of the psalm, how David’s son Absalom, the dearest child he had, had raised a rebellion and was determined to kill his father. With a broken heart David had begun the psalm, but Jenny read again verse five: “I laid me down and slept . . .”

  For a long time she sat there, her head bowed, thinking and meditating on the ancient king with his heart broken—yet he laid down and slept. She closed the Bible and prayed, “Lord, you’ll have to take care of me. Just let me make it through this day. In Jesus’ name.”

  She rose, picked up her hat, then noticed Clay’s clothes she had worn the previous evening. Quickly she gathered them together, found a paper sack, and put them inside.

  She went downstairs quickly and heard the sound of voices in the dining room. She hesitated for only a moment, dreading to go in but knowing that she had to. Putting the sack down in the hall, she went inside, and everyone turned to her. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “Sorry to be late.”

  “We’re just ready to start eating, daughter,” Missouri said. She had one of the babies tucked under her arm. Jenny could not tell which one, for they were as alike as three coins. She went over and kissed the baby, who drooled at her and grinned toothlessly. “Which one is this one?”

  “This is Temple.”

  Jenny sat down and noted that Hannah was holding one of the triplets and her father another. Lewis bowed his head, and they all followed suit. After he asked the blessing and they began eating, Jenny was very much aware that everyone was quiet, trying not to look at her, but exchanging concerned looks among themselves. Missouri sat down and applied herself to the food, which included fried eggs, fried ham, biscuits, and red-eye gravy with blackberry and plum jam to sweeten it up. “The revival’s going to start next week,” Missouri said. “I’ve heard a lot about that evangelist. I want us all to go every night.”

  Kat turned to Jenny and blurted out, “I can’t believe you let some fellers steal your car. Did you shoot at ’em? Or didn’t ya wanna shoot at your own car?”

  “I wasn’t exactly wearing my holster at the time.”

  “Did the guy taking the pictures steal it? Or was it someone with him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Leave your sister be, Kat,” Lewis commanded in a quiet but firm voice.

  Clint said, “I’ll run you into your office this morning after breakfast.”

  “Thank you, Clint.”

  The meal proceeded, but suddenly the sound of a car pulling up attracted their attention. Kat got up and raced to the window. “It’s Billy Moon in your car.”

  Kat ran to open the door, and Moon entered the dining room. As usual he was immaculately dressed. He was a strong-looking, powerful man, and his shirt fit him like a second skin. “We found the car. It was abandoned. No harm done to it. I thought you might need a ride in.”

  “Thanks, Billy. That’s a relief. I was afraid they’d trash it.”

  Billy had a newspaper in his hand, and he tapped it against his leg. Jenny knew instantly what it was. “Is that The Standard?”

  “I thought you might like to see it. It’s pretty bad.”

  “Let me see it.” Jenny took the paper, opened it, and saw an enlarged picture of herself. She was wearing her one-piece white bathing suit and was staring directly into the camera. Her hair was wet and down, and she looked as startled as a deer.

  “What does it say, Jenny? Read it to us,” Kat demanded.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Jenny skimmed the story and then handed it over to Lewis. “Come on, Billy. I’m through here.” She left the room, and as soon as the car started up, Lewis began to read the story. The picture itself was not bad, but the headline said, “Yankee Sheriff Fighting Crime.” Al Deighton, the editor of The Daily Standard was close to Judge Hightower and a poker-playing friend of Max Conroy, the ex-sheriff.

  “Is it bad, Lewis?”

  “It’s bad enough.” He looked around and then shrugged. “You’ll all read it anyhow. ‘The county sheriff, Jennifer Winslow, has begun her career as a law-enforcement officer by taking swims in the river. This paper would have thought that there was plenty to do to keep a law-enforcement official busy, but apparently Sheriff Winslow is a lady of leisure. Of course, the sheriff is a New Yorker, and no doubt there the enforcement of the law is quite different from this
part of the world.’ ”

  Lewis read on and finally threw the paper down. “It’s malicious and cruel and stupid!”

  “It’ll pass away,” Missouri said, coming over to lay her hand on Lewis’s shoulder.

  Clint said, “I might pay that editor a little visit.”

  “No, you stay out of it,” Hannah said quickly. “You’re not supposed to take up the offenses of others.”

  “That’s right,” Missouri said. She moved the baby to her other arm and said quietly, “The Bible says we’re to pray for those that despitefully use us. When we do that, it puts coals of fire on their head.”

  Kat’s eyes opened. “Well, then, I’ll pray for that old newspaper guy, and I hope the coals burn his brains out!”

  ****

  Merle Arp and Arlie Pender had derived a great deal of satisfaction out of the story on the front page of The Daily Standard. They read it aloud in the sheriff’s office to Ruby French, who retorted angrily, “I don’t think that’s funny!”

  “You don’t? Well, look at this picture. Say, the sheriff’s got a pretty nice-lookin’ body on her there.”

  Arlie Pender laughed shrilly. “Ain’t many sheriffs look that good in a bathing suit.”

  “She won’t be able to stay around after this,” Merle Arp said. He feasted his eyes on the picture and laughed coarsely. “The quicker she’s gone the better.”

  Both deputies turned as the door opened, and Jenny walked through it with Billy Moon at her side. “Mornin’, Sheriff.” Pender grinned and made no attempt to hide the paper in his hand.

  Jenny came to stand before him and knew she had to challenge him. “Did you check out the report on that still on the Donaldson place?”

  Pender cast a quick glance at Merle Arp and spoke up. “Wasn’t anything there, Sheriff.”

  “How do you know?” Jenny said, and her eyes were cold as polar ice.

  “Why, we looked everywhere, and we couldn’t find it.”

  “The mileage on your car shows you drove twelve miles yesterday. It’s sixteen miles to the Donaldson place. My arithmetic tells me that’s thirty-two miles at least.”