Next World Series | Vol. 6 | Families First [Battle Grounds]

by Ewing, Lance K.

  James was adamant about talking to as many townsfolk as he could today, not wasting a single minute on anything else. He figured the Weston Grill and Tavern would be the place to do it and wouldn’t even plan on him or Jason going back to the Mayor’s office until after lunch.

  They pulled up to the already-busy restaurant, finding a spot right up front. The truck he had ironically received from Sheriff Johnson and Judge Lowry stuck out like a sore thumb, which was precisely what James was looking for. They were greeted like rock stars—or maybe Country stars was a better observation by the restaurant owners and the patrons.

  “Mr. VanFleet!” said the feisty owner, proudly pointing him toward the wheelchair ramp he had installed just the other day. “Well, what do you think?” he asked.

  “You didn’t go through all that trouble just for me, did you?” asked James.

  “There are a few others in town that share the same…well, I mean, uh...”

  “Those of us with perfectly good legs that just don’t move?” asked James in a friendly joking tone.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to put it. But, really, we did it for you as a thank-you for helping us with our meat problem.”

  “Well then, a thank-you to you and your wife is in order,” said James. “I’ll get with you later in the week about your supply.”

  The townsfolk gathered around James. They were all interested in the real story about what happened to Sheriff Johnson and the progress on the greenhouses. Others wanted to know how expanding the town borders would affect the Saturday trade days. Some were happy there would be more vendors, while others worried it would dilute their sales. Jason stood back, watching James work the room like a true politician—and maybe the last honest one he knew of, at least in this town.

  * * * *

  James, surrounded by fellow citizens, didn’t see Jason slowly back away, out of the dining area and down the stairs. She had one arm around his chest from behind as the pistol dug into the small of his back while she whispered, “Stay quiet, or you’re done.”

  Judge Lowry drove Sheriff Johnson’s old truck, the one with the small extra cab in the back.

  Gagged and blindfolded, Jason’s hands were zip-tied behind his back.

  “Watch your head now,” said the Judge, pushing Jason down, helping him into the back.

  Sheriff Kate slammed the door, leaving Jason alone and breathing heavily with the gag. He could hear his own heartbeat, loud as thunder, and something else…he wasn’t sure.

  “Hello,” he tried to say, scooting on the bench over until his thigh hit something warm. He worked the blindfold and gag at the same time, using his shoulder to work the blindfold first. Every shrug put pressure on his wrists, causing him to cry out but not enough to stop. Minutes later…or what seemed like an hour to him…his blindfold slipped off, falling to the floor. He turned to see a pretty young woman, with a gag and blindfold as well.

  “Hold on,” he said, forgetting about the gag and mumbling the words.

  She shook, trembling with fear, and tried to scoot away, pressing her body against the far door.

  “It’s okay,” he finally was able to speak, his gag slipping down over his chin and onto his neck.

  “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Jason and I’m the Deputy Mayor. This is going to sound strange, but I need to use my teeth to get your blindfold and gag off. My hands are bound tightly, just like yours. It’s that okay?”

  She nodded yes, and he hoped it wouldn’t scare her more than she already was. Loosening hers was easier than his own and was done in less than a minute.

  “What is going on around here?” she gasped, finally being able to take a deep breath. “What’s happening?”

  “It’s the new Sheriff,” said Jason, looking around as he spoke.

  “And the Judge!” she spat.

  “As I said, I’m Jason, and I know why I’m here. But what about you?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she voiced. “I’m Ken’s girlfriend, and I guess I’m here because the new Sheriff used to date my boyfriend. I can’t think of another reason this could be happening.”

  “You think the Sheriff still has feelings for him?” asked Jason, before thinking to himself: She did kill her last one.

  “Well, I wasn’t sure before—not completely anyway—but now, yes, that’s exactly what I think.”

  “So, she kidnaps you?” Jason asked, trying to see if he could free his hands.

  “No. They read me some kind of Rights but not Miranda. We studied that in college, and this bastardized version wasn’t even close. Not that it matters anyway, since they are the only two in town who make and enforce the rules.”

  She began to cry as it sunk in how the only people she ever saw leaving the jailhouse were at the end of a rope or a fight to the death—everyone except for her Ken, who nearly died jumping the Courthouse. “It’s just not fair; they shouldn’t have all the power.”

  “That won’t last long,” replied Jason quickly. “The Colonel will see to that.”

  “Who?” she asked, snapping Jason back to focus.

  “I’ve said too much—sorry,” he replied. “Just know it will be okay. It’s what I’ve been told, at least. So, I’m going to try and unlock the door. I don’t see anybody around, so we should be able to make a run for it. I’ll let you go first, since I’m sure we’re headed in different directions. My advice is to get out of town or lay very low until we get this thing sorted out—and that probably means not at your boyfriend’s house. Understand?”

  “Yeah, I get it,” she said. “I’m getting tired of this small town anyway.”

  Jason unlocked the cab door, and she stumbled out, hands tied tight behind her back. She wanted to scream but would not, at least not out loud, running opposite the restaurant, looking back every few seconds, as if they were right behind her. Up ahead, she could see the split fence of a good neighbor’s yard she and Ken had eaten dinner at only a few weeks ago. The old woman stood out front, wide-eyed and stout. “Come here, darling. I’ll help you.”

  The Sheriff and two others—probably deputies—were running towards her and closing the gap. She screamed again, looking back, when she tripped. It was the curb, she would find out later in the day, and the impact sent her reeling like a baseball player sliding face-first into home plate. This was no dirt landing, and the plate wasn’t plastic but concrete. She hit her face hard, and then her forehead. Something sharp pierced her upper lip, and blood poured from her mouth.

  She could hear yelling, both behind and in front of her, like dueling banjos—one trying to outdo the other. Struggling to get up, her head was aching and she felt dizzy.

  “Nice try, missy,” came the Sheriff’s voice from behind. “Lift her up, boys,” was the command as her zip-tied wrists forcefully brought her up to a standing position.

  She turned to face her accuser, spitting the knocked front tooth out onto the pavement. She stared at it for only a second in sheer amazement. How could a whole tooth be so long? she wondered. It looked at least an inch long.

  “You got blood on my boots,” yelled the Sheriff, kicking the air as if to shake it off.

  “Should we take her over to see Doc?” asked one of the deputies, sounding concerned.

  “Nope,” Kate replied flatly. “It’s already out.” She walked backwards towards the truck, using her fingers to make a button-your-lip motion as she stared at the good neighbor woman.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked the Judge, as if they had just got off a work shift.

  “I could eat,” he replied.

  “Get her back in the truck, and if either of them tries to get out, shoot them dead,” she told the deputy.

  * * * *

  “Hey! Hey, police guy?” the young woman asked the guard, pressing her face to the crack in the window, the way a kid might make fish lips in the small area.

  “Hey, can you get my tooth and put it in some milk?” she asked calmly. “It will preserve it until they can
put it back in later.”

  “Sure thing, missy. I’ll be getting right on it,” he replied, not taking a step.

  “It’s over there on the ground.” She pointed to the spot where she had fallen.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said. “Okay, no more talking.”

  * * * *

  “Well, good morning, James,” the Sheriff said, walking right up to him inside the restaurant. “I wasn’t expecting to see you,” she added.

  “Well, ma’am, I am working today.”

  “Is that so,” she replied with sarcasm. “A Mayor’s work is done at the office, and it looks to me like you’re about to have breakfast on my time.”

  “Ma’am, the Mayor position is an extension of the citizens of this town, and I see no better way to serve them than to meet them where they congregate, right here in this fine establishment.”

  A crowd was gathering to hear the exchange, with most standing behind James.

  “Where’s that sidekick of yours?” asked the Judge, with a grin.

  “I’m not sure—maybe fishing in Lake Trinidad,” replied James, figuring he had nothing to lose now. “I heard you were up there recently, Judge—and you too, Kate. It’s a shame what happened to Sheriff Johnson,” he continued. “What are the odds a man who fished in a tube hundreds of times before and was a swimming champion right here at Weston High would up and drown like that? It just doesn’t make sense at all,” he said, and continued countrifying his dialect just a bit, to the nodding of his citizens. “It just a shame, is all I’m saying.”

  “Let’s meet this afternoon after lunch, say your office at 1:30, and you can call me Sheriff-elect from now on, James.”

  “It’s a date!” replied James enthusiastically, embarrassing her and turning her pink cheeks bright red with anger.

  James dismissed them both by turning his chair around to talk to his supporters.

  “Steak and egg burrito for my favorite Mayor,” called the restaurant owner from across the room. “And one for everyone here, compliments of James VanFleet!” He whispered to his wife, “the small ones.”

  They all cheered, as if he had given his audience each a brand-new car.

  Sheriff Kate stormed out of the restaurant, yelling something at Judge Lowry.

  “They took Jason Davis,” whispered a man James knew from days long gone.

  “I know,” whispered James in reply. “It was written all over their smug faces. I’ll be seeing him in a few hours anyway.”

  * * * *

  “Two things,” said the restaurant owner, “if you please?”

  “Please what?”

  “Please follow me to the back room.”

  James did as asked, having no reason not to trust the man he had made more than one square deal with in the past month.

  “Mr. Mayor, I know a lot of people, wouldn’t you say?” asked the restaurant owner.

  “Sounds about right, owning this is the only restaurant in town.”

  “Yes, anyway, what was that out there?”

  “Just breakfast,” replied James.

  “No, the other thing—with the lady Sheriff and the guy who hangs everybody. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “What’s the second thing?” asked James.

  “I need another steer. We’re getting low on beef again, and if I don’t deliver…well, someone may take my place and open up down the street.”

  “Okay,” said James. “We can do another deal, almost the same as last time.”

  “Almost? Are you charging me more?”

  “No, not that. I need your loyalty and trust not to jump to any conclusions about what you’re going to hear about me, and make sure your customers don’t, either.”

  “So, you’re in trouble with her and him, is that right?”

  “Yes, not because I’ve done anything wrong, or Jason Davis either, but they already have him locked up and I’m next, after lunch today.”

  “What could they possibly have on you except for maybe this?” He pretended like he was sneaking a swig out of an old moonshine bottle, the kind they slung back with the arm before bringing it to the lips.

  “I wish it were that,” said James. “It’s something bigger, something they have done, and I found out about it. So, in exchange for another deal, I want you to keep this secret and let the good folks of this town know Jason and I will have this fixed quickly and be back to serve you. The sooner I’m back, the sooner you will have your beef.”

  “Okay, it’s a deal; you have my word,” said the restaurant owner.

  James was feeling nervous about Jason, but it wasn’t just that. He wanted to go to his office and be alone until it was time but forced himself to stay through lunch, talking with everyone he could about how great this town would be a year from now. Of course, he couldn’t tell them the truth…not yet.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Weston, Colorado

  Jason spoke openly with his new friend once inside the jailhouse.

  “I’ve got nowhere to run to,” he told her. “I knew this was coming, but I thought it would be later in the day, is all.”

  “What about the Mayor—I mean the VanFleet guy?” she asked. “Is he in on this?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Jason replied. “My family and I live with him on their ranch. He’s a good man, not like those two,” he pointed towards where the Sheriff and Judge went. “In fact, he’ll be inside this afternoon.”

  “Really?” she asked, drawing out the word. “Why pick you up first…unless…?”

  “Unless what?” Jason asked nervously.

  “Unless they are going to interrogate you before they bring him in. Like those old episodes of Cops, where they would separate the suspects and then get the true stories the easy way or the hard way,” she added, as if she were reminiscing about a quiet night at home watching someone else’s misfortune.

  “Now you’ve got me nervous,” replied Jason, fidgeting.

  “You were always that,” she said quietly—“at least the hour or so I’ve known you. Don’t worry. If I learned one thing from that show, it’s keep your mouth shut and ask for your lawyer.”

  “Great, if I had a lawyer!” Jason replied. “But from what I’ve seen, there’s no such thing anymore. Just a Judge and executioner…”

  Jason and Ken’s girlfriend were put into the same cell. She found it ironic—or just plain sick, maybe, that she had her boyfriend’s old cell. She had never seen him there, but the way he described it and the location told her it was the same one.

  Ken told her everything about helping the Judge escape but left out any details of his former girlfriend, now the Sheriff of Weston. Had she not seen how Kate acted when Ken missed the landing on his bike, she may have thought the past was really the past. But after seeing her face when he crashed, it told her everything. This wasn’t a random man smashing his bike and body on the hard ground, or even an old boyfriend. This was someone she still loved, and it showed all over her pretty face. So, what now? she thought. Jason filled her in on more information than he should have after she questioned him about not leaving the truck and running, as she did.

  “Here they come! One more thing,” Jason said. “Do whatever you have to in order to buy some time—like maybe a few days—and I’ll get you out of here.”

  “Promise?” she asked, taking his hand.

  “Uh, yes,” he replied, quickly pulling his hand away and feeling flushed.

  “All right, lovebirds,” said the Sheriff, standing just beyond the front door of the cell. “Back to the front we go.”

  Jason got quiet, with that old theme song playing over and over in his head about boys being bad and what are you planning to do when they come to get you? He couldn’t remember all the words, but the music wouldn’t stop.

  Jason wasn’t in his cell for more than 15 minutes when the Sheriff arrived. She pulled him out, at least the deputies did, and sat him in her office, handcuffed to the chair. He listene
d as Judge Lowry spewed a long to-do about the official story of her former boyfriend, Sheriff Johnson. Jason looked over at the clock. There were three in the room, an oddity he thought but didn’t mention it. The town clock he saw out the window, which still worked, read 12:36, and he wondered when James would arrive. He is better at answering these kinds of questions anyway, he thought.

  “What did you see?” she asked, slapping him hard across the right cheek.

  He wasn’t expecting that, and she knew it.

  His eyes misted over, like when you get hit in the nose.