Cally And The Sheriff

Bill sighed, running his hand through his already rumpled blond hair. “No, and I think she’s a little better than she was this morning.”

Andrew couldn’t suppress a grin. “You look awful, friend.”

Bill stepped out onto the porch, letting the door close behind him. “Just between you and me, looking after a sick wife is hell. I could chase a bandit clean to Mexico and not be so worn out. She keeps thinking of housework that needs to be done or she says it’ll keep her awake.”

“You made your…”

“Don’t say it! Look, Andrew, three more days, tops. If she isn’t better I’ll see if some of her women friends can’t take turns sitting with her. I’ve got to get out of this house.”

Andrew gave his deputy a reassuring thump on the shoulder before he stepped off the porch. It was hard to build up much sympathy for the man. But then, he reminded himself, he wasn’t really in a position to understand.

He tore his note from the nail beside his office door and started toward Dr. Briggs’s house. A few steps down the boardwalk, he heard someone hail him and turned to see an elderly gent hurrying toward him.

“Mr. Sweeney,” Andrew said as the man huffed up to him. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Sweeney said, reaching out to Andrew to steady himself while he struggled for breath. “I just…wanted to…catch you.”

Andrew supported the old man as best he could and looked around for a place for him to sit. “Are you all right?”

With one last deep breath, Sweeney straightened. “Fine, fine. Can we go inside?”

“Of course.” Andrew unlocked the door and motioned Sweeney in ahead of him. When the door was closed and the lamp on his desk lit, Andrew moved his chair near the one the old man had taken and sat. When he was sure Sweeney was recovered he asked, “What can I do for you?”

Sweeney smiled. “Why, I’m here about the deputy’s job, of course.”

Andrew hoped his jaw hadn’t actually hit his chest. “Mr. Sweeney,” he began, searching for the most diplomatic words, “I was thinking of someone more…vigorous.”

“Vigorous?”

“Well, sir, a deputy’s job could get somewhat… strenuous.”

Sweeney scowled at Andrew. “You saying I’m old?”

“Ah, no, sir, but—”

“Well, see here, young man, don’t dismiss me because I’ve lived a few years. I could teach you a thing or two.”

“I’m sure you could, sir, but—”

“Well, that’s better. I was thinking I could start tomorrow. No sense wasting any time.”

Andrew cleared his throat. “Mr. Sweeney…” He hesitated. How should he put this? He tried to be gentle. “I don’t believe I can hire you as deputy.”

Mr. Sweeney seemed completely surprised. “Why ever not? You just admitted I know more than you do.”

“Yes, sir, but…you’re not…I mean…you’re—” Mr. Sweeney wasn’t taking the hint. “Old,” he finished.

Mr. Sweeney came to his feet. “I don’t think I’d care to work for someone who has no respect for his elders.”

Andrew rose and followed the old man out the door. “Sir, I don’t want you to take this personally.”

“No other way to take it, boy,” Sweeney said, stalking away.

Andrew pulled the office door closed. He stood for a moment looking after the would-be deputy. The old man barely made it off the boardwalk without stumbling. Unfortunately, he had been one of the better applicants.

Andrew shook his head and turned in the other direction, toward Dr. Briggs’s house. His run for the doctor the night before was fresh in his mind. He had been hesitant for a second about leaving DuBois alone but knew he could do nothing for him. By the time he and the doctor had returned, the old man was nearly gone.

Dr. Briggs answered the knock. “Good afternoon, Sheriff. What can I do for you?”

Andrew stepped inside and considered for a moment how best to approach the subject. He couldn’t very well demand that Briggs tell him exactly what he had said to Cally. “I have a few questions about Mr. DuBois’ death,” he said.

The doctor offered him a chair and once they were seated, Andrew continued. “You suggested last night that it was his heart. Is that still your assumption?”

The doctor nodded. “Maybe.” Dr. Briggs was a tall, thin, middle-aged man, friendly and usually straightforward.

“Maybe?” Andrew prompted.

“Well—” the doctor shifted in his seat “—the man was a drunkard. All that time since his arrest without a drink was giving him the shakes. The one drink he had that night might have been what stopped his heart.”

Andrew grew very still. “You mean the drink I gave him killed him?”

“It’s possible.”

Dr. Briggs did not seem to realize how horrifying this news was to Andrew. “You didn’t mention this last night,” he said.

“Things got a little hectic last night.” The doctor seemed to finally notice Andrew’s expression. “Look, Sheriff, it’s just a theory. Even if it’s true, no one could think it was anything but an accident. Besides, the man was going to hang in a few days.”

Andrew nodded and rose to go. Sure, it was a minor detail. It wouldn’t matter to anyone—but him and Cally.

He thanked the doctor and headed back downtown, hoping his visit with the attorney would be more rewarding. He climbed the stairs to Mr. Cobb’s office and, after waiting a few minutes, was ushered into the inner office.

Cobb stood and shook his hand motioning him to a seat. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

“I need some advice,” Andrew said as he was seated.

Cobb smiled. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“A dying man asked me to look after his daughter,” Andrew said. “What are my legal obligations?”

Cobb stared at him a moment, and Andrew wondered if this sounded foolish to the attorney. Finally Cob asked, “Were there witnesses?”

“No.” Andrew shifted forward in the seat. “I’m not trying to get out of this. I want to do right by her.”

A feral smile slowly formed on Cobb’s lips. “The DuBois girl, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “There’s a little land involved, if my memory serves. As her legal guardian you would control that.”

Andrew was too surprised to object.

Cobb pulled a sheet of paper from a drawer and began making notes. “Is there family likely to come forward and challenge your right of guardianship?”