“I wish you would run, James,” said the lead deputy. “I know everyone here would back you.”
“I appreciate that,” he replied, holding his tongue and not saying that the election was a farce and already predetermined. “Do your best to work with her, or whoever the winner is, and we’ll see what happens. I’m still the Mayor-elect, and I’ll do everything I can for the citizens of Weston. You can always come to me with anything. You know that, right?”
“Yes, sir. We all do.”
* * * *
Kate called a meeting mid-afternoon, mandatory for all City workers and officials, at the Courthouse.
“We will be expanding our town by 40 miles in all directions, except for Trinidad,” she started. “It was Sheriff Johnson’s plan to declare it before another city does, and when I’m…I mean, if I’m elected Sheriff on Saturday, it will be my first act.”
Ken was in attendance and stayed behind after the particulars of the election were discussed. He wasn’t sure where this new development landed him. Was he free to go, working for the City, or could he end up back behind bars? “I’m sorry about your fiancé,” he said.
“You mean my last boyfriend,” she replied. “It’s tragic for sure…his death, I mean…but I realized recently he wasn’t the right guy for me. Another holds my heart and always has. Thanks for coming today, Ken; it means a lot to me. Don’t worry. Your job is safe and I have big plans for you. We’ll talk soon.”
* * * *
Kate drove home, smiling the entire way except when passing someone walking. Then she put on her sad face—like flipping a classic Zippo lighter top…open-close, open-close. Tonight was her night to purge and binge. Two bottles of sweet red wine and a small firepit in the backyard would surely make her a happy girl. She started with his clothes, burning all of them. Shirts, pants, socks, saving the boots, belts, and hats for last. Next were the letters, birthday cards, and anything else personal she could put a flame to. This ritual took her through the first bottle and starting on the second.
“Now for some fun,” she said aloud, tossing his collection of Guinness World Records books, one by one, into the fire, saving the special edition to the side. A full two bottles in, she picked up the Guinness World Records 1975 book—featuring Evel Knievel and his Snake River rocket jump that nearly killed the love of her life—and tossed it end-over-end into the fire, declaring “It is done!”
In a lower voice and the sweetest Southern drawl she had been practicing, she said, “I’m coming for you, Ken, and I’m truly sorry about that girlfriend of yours; I’m sure she’s very nice.”
* * * *
Judge Lowry found a young boy nobody had ever heard of, maybe 18 or 20 years old, and paid him one silver coin to put his name on the ballot.
“But what if I win?” the boy asked. “I don’t know the first thing about being a Sheriff.”
The Judge laughed, telling him that hell would freeze over before that happened.
* * * *
Kate was up early, playing the part of the campaigning candidate, and of course the grieving fiancé of Sheriff Johnson. She nearly dragged the Judge out of bed, telling him to make the rounds about town, dispelling any rumors regarding his sudden disappearance last week and any coincidence to his own return immediately following the Sheriff’s death.
“Just tell them you went fishing and leave it at that,” she told him.
Judge Lowry knew the law and was good at handing down the stiffest of sentences. However, he was not a people person, and this role of explaining his disappearance, coupled with acting concerned about the townsfolk, all while promoting a woman who could kill him while eating a sandwich, was almost too much.
“I have men in the jailhouse who deserve a fair trial,” he told Kate at lunch. “I’ll campaign for you a few more hours today, and then I must get to work.”
“Sure thing, Judge,” she replied. “I’ll be on pins and needles to hear of your ruling. Death by a thousand paper cuts; six months, with time off for good behavior; or maybe Community Service, picking up dog crap around town—a full 200 hours. Or will it be the traditional yet unexciting hanging from the gallows in the Town Square? I’ll be by to pick you up first thing in the morning.”
His first reaction was to be upset. But the more he mulled it over, it seemed a lot like the truth. If she indeed is elected Sheriff of Weston, she is responsible for carrying out a sentence I hand down, but nothing more, he thought.
“I could just let them go, ask them to paint the Courthouse as Community Service, or even bargain with them for a coup d’état of the highest law enforcement member,” he said, under his breath.
If it even could be called that, the campaigning was an off-the-cuff performance, like comparing a medium-rare filet mignon to an extra-well-done cube steak. The former fiancé—or girlfriend, depending on who was asking, one who knew and even had influence in his decisions over the town—was up against some snot-nosed kid who didn’t know the first thing about the Sheriff’s office or town politics.
“The whole thing is a formality, really,” she said to the Judge. “Don’t tell them the official count on voting day—only that I won by a landslide.”
“That’s what I always do,” he replied. “It’s always a landslide victory, as you call it, for the intended candidate. However, it’s a good thing James VanFleet didn’t run.”
“Would the outcome have been any different?” she asked, with a glare.
“With my final count, I guess not. It just would have been harder to cover it up.”
She walked away, shaking her head. “Note to self,” she said, under her breath. “Keep an eye on both of those men.”
* * * * * * *
Chapter Six
Headed to Second Chances Ranch
Weston, Colorado
David stopped at James’ place with Mark, and he and Mel headed to Mark’s medical appointment. David was informed by James of recent town happenings, with the knowledge that the Raton Pass Militia would be Weston’s official citizens by the end of the week. Mel, figuring it was only a matter of time, looked forward to exploring the town for the day. They picked up the second truck early and stopped by the dog lady’s house, hoping for one more deal.
There were two left, one male and a female, with neither looking exactly like Chance or Daisy. He chose the male, a sweet yellow lab, midway in size between Chance and Daisy.
“Don’t let that sweet-boy demeanor fool you,” said the owner after making the deal. “He’s all business. He protects his own family and kids, but if you were to be on the wrong side of him... well, no need to go there since you all are the good guys. By the way, David, thank you for what you done with the problem I had in the basement. Why, even the odor is nearly gone. Now I done told you all my dogs were for sale, but I think I’ll keep this last girl, so don’t send none of your friends by for her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said David. “Thank you for Mel’s new dog and mine.”
“By the way, what’s his name?” Mel asked.
“His name is Trevell,” she stated.
“Interesting name. Where’s it from?” Mel queried.
“Former owners named him Trouble; that ain’t no name for a dog. How’s he even supposed to get a fair shake at life with a name like that?” she replied. She added: “Trevell was the closest name that the dog would recognize and come to. And besides, the name means ‘down to earth and well grounded.’ He is surely that.”
* * * *
David dropped Mark off alone, at his insistence, but vowed to get the final report from Doc Walters at the end.
Mark and Calleigh resumed their conversation, as if he had never left. There was a moment, quick as lightning, when nobody was around. Just the two of them. He had to know the answer to the most important question on his mind.
“Calleigh… Mark… Can I ask you a question?” they both asked in unison.
“Uh, sure,” he said. “You go first.”
He looked around
nervously, hoping they would be alone long enough to ask his question afterward.
“I wanted to ask you…” she paused, almost backing out before continuing. “I mean, a guy like you must surely have a girlfriend, right?”
Oh my gosh, he thought in a split second—she asked it! He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Uh, uh,” he fumbled. Think, Mark! Think!
“Hey, sport,” said Dr. Walters, rounding the corner and walking into the room. “Thank you, Calleigh. I’ll take it from here.”
She looked at Mark and slowly gathered her things, heading towards the door.
“How are your chest and leg feeling?” Mark heard the doctor ask, as if miles away, like an echo from far off in the distance. Don’t let her leave, he thought, feeling panicked, like he was a kid who overslept Christmas morning.
She waved and exited the room as he yelled out, “No! No, I don’t!”
“You don’t what, son?” asked Doc Walters.
“Nothing,” said Mark, glumly feeling as though he had made an irreparable mistake. “They are feeling a little better each day,” he added.
After a check, David arrived, hearing the prognosis and that the next follow-up appointment would be in a week.
“Sir…I mean, Dr. Walters,” said Mark. “Do you think you could have Calleigh come back for just a minute? I was going to tell her something and just remembered what it was.”
“She’s off shift, but I’m sure she will be here at your next appointment. She’s here most days anyway. Any message you want to leave with me?”
“No. Thank you, though,” replied Mark.
* * * *
The road up and down the mountain was getting routine now and David, for one, was glad to have the trucks instead of four-wheelers. They took a few minutes, he and Mel today, to stop and take a look at Mark’s four-wheeler—the one he wrecked last week.
“It’s a total rebuild,” declared Mel, “and a project for another day.”
Quickly covering the machine with brush, they drove the unobstructed road back up to camp.
* * * *
Katie and Jonah loved the new addition and couldn’t stop thanking Mel.
“His name is Trevell—strong and steady,” he told them.
“So, it’s always going to be like this, huh?” asked Tammy.
“Like what?” replied Mel.
“Like you bribing the kids with TVs, pizzas, and now dogs.”
“I wouldn’t call it a bribe,” he said. “Just a perk of having me as a dad.”
“What’s my perk?” she asked playfully.
“The truck—I got you a truck!”
“That’s no gift for a woman...”
“It is when that truck can bring you down the mountain and to the wine and coffee bar in town that Janice and her friends went to a few days ago. I would be surprised if they didn’t have a spa of some kind. Top it off with lunch at the only restaurant open that I’ve heard of, and it sounds like a perfect day to me.”
“So, now you’re bribing me?” she asked.
“No, of course not, honey. I don’t have to. Look at me,” he said, standing in front of the mirror. “You have all of this, and with a wicked sense of humor!”—only cracking a smile at the end.
“Well, when you put it that way,” she replied, smiling flirtatiously, “wine and lunch with the girls does sound pretty good.”
“Well played, my dear,” said Mel, half doubled over with laughter. “Plus, we will officially be a part of Weston by week’s end, from what I hear.”
* * * *
Saturday morning came quickly, with deputies spreading the word about the possibility of town expansion. Kate and the kid running for Sheriff gave speeches to the growing crowd of traders.
James and family, along with David and Mel, Tammy, Tina, and their children, listened to both speeches, if the kid’s could be called that.
“Poor thing,” said Janice in a whisper, watching a nervous, sweating young man fumble through the pre-written speech he had jotted down on a napkin.
Kate killed it, starting right in playing the sympathy card and moving seamlessly into her passion for fulfilling the Sheriff’s plans for the town. She went on to talk about expanding the borders to the forty-mile boundary, citing it would bring more food and revenue into the town and create a safer boundary for all citizens. Her twenty-minute speech had most traders clapping and cheering.
“Looks like the Judge won’t have to fudge the numbers this time,” James whispered back. “Congratulations,” he said to David and Mel. “In a matter of hours, we will officially be neighbors.”
* * * *
Mark took off from his dad, walking slowly from booth to booth, grimacing with each step on his crutches and keeping an eye out for the girl.
“I see they let you out,” she said, tapping his shoulder from behind and getting a jump out of him.
“You too,” he replied. “I thought you worked all the time!”
“Not on Saturdays. I always come out for the trading; you never know what you may find here,” she said, smiling.
“No, you don’t,” he replied, happy he could talk to her again without losing his voice. “It’s my first time, and I already want to do it again,” he replied, with his mind racing ten steps ahead of the conversation. “I don’t…” he blurted out before he could stop it.
“Don’t what?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend; I mean, isn’t that what you were asking me in the hospital?”
“I know,” she replied, still smiling.
“Who told you?” he asked, wondering if it may have been his dad.
“You, silly—you practically told everyone in the hospital that day, yelling it out!”
“Oh…sorry about that.”
“Well, aren’t you going to ask me the same?”
“Uh…yeah, sorry…I mean, do you have a friend that’s a boy?”
“I have a lot of those,” she said, teasing him just a bit, “but a boyfriend I don’t.”
“How is that even possible?” he asked. “I mean, look at you! You’re beautiful!”
Now she was blushing. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself for an out-of-towner, but I only date boys in town.”
“I’ll be an official resident by the end of the day, my dad told me. Plus, he just bought a truck.”
“And I suppose you know how to drive at 15?” she asked.
“Almost 16!” he remarked. “And yes, I can drive most anything, except maybe a four-wheeler.” This got a smile and a laugh he was hoping for out of her. “Can you hold off the others for a few hours?”
“I think I can do that,” she said, taking his arm and casually strolling the trading booths.
They stopped by the VanFleet/Davis booth for a quick look, where he introduced her as “his friend that is a girl.”
* * * *
Voting took three hours, from noon until 3 p.m. The count was done like a traditional voting night before the day, when the news outlets called the race long before counting every ballot. This time Judge Lowry’s vote counters would not need to be bribed with a popcorn break or be subjected to sleight of hand. They knew full well this election was a landslide victory and Kate would be named Sheriff.
The final announcement came at 3:30, before the end of trade.
“It gives me great pleasure,” announced Judge Lowry from the top of the hanging gallows, “to announce the new Sheriff of Weston, voted by our citizens. Ms. Kate Shields is our Sheriff-elect.”
Most cheered, with only a few boos.
“Thank you all for your confidence and votes today,” she said over the megaphone to the large crowd, ignoring the few naysayers she would deal with at a later time.
She officially expanded the town and promised the citizens that those bad men in her jail would be dealt with swiftly once Judge Lowry had decided their fate. Walking off the platform, she headed straight towards James.
“Well, how did I do?” she
asked, not caring either way about the answer.
“It seems they like you,” he responded.
“Where are your friends from? I haven’t seen them in town before,” she said.
“Up on the mountain, beyond our place,” replied James without elaborating.
“That sounds like less than 40 miles to me,” she replied. “Can we expect you all at our next trading days?”
“It’s a possibility,” replied David. “Our group may be able to find a few things to trade.”
Families First: A Post-Apocalyptic Next-World Series Volume 6 Battle Grounds Page 6
