The Sheriff With The Wyoming-Size Heart

He was still trying to find a live-in. His hours were sporadic and unpredictable, and structured day care only worked well for nine-to-five types. He’d begun advertising in the university newspaper and had gotten a lot of calls, but students kept hours as erratic as his own and he hadn’t found one willing to give up a social life for someone else’s kid.

A sharp knock on his open office door brought him alert with a start.

Wade Ferguson strode in without waiting for an invitation and slapped the morning paper on his desk. “Looks like momentum’s building for that blasted golf course.”

“Damn.” Riley rolled his chair closer to the desk to see what had provoked Wade’s temper. With the important headline circled in a thick black line, he focused right on the article.

Ten months ago a group of concerned parents had banded together in an organization they called Legal Activities For Fun. They’d decided their teenagers were more likely to stay out of trouble if the kids had somewhere to hang out, so they’d made a proposal to the country commission to build facilities in Sage Creek, a piece of undeveloped land the county had held for years. They envisioned a playing field that could handle baseball and soccer, tennis courts, a club for dancing, pool and arcade games, and eventually an amphitheater for concerts and summer stock productions. They called it The LAFF Place. The mayor and both law enforcement agencies—police and sheriff—had backed the idea immediately.

Also immediately one of the county commissioners had introduced a proposal to build a golf course in Sage Creek. Cal Davenport presented it as an idea he’d been working on for a long time, although no whisper of it had reached Riley’s ears. Before long, an outspoken group not limited to golfers began voicing their support. Now there would be two choices for Sage Creek on the ballot, one for The LAFF Place and one for a golf course.

Although Cal Davenport depicted the golf course as a legitimate counter proposal, he worked on people’s fears. He claimed that inviting kids to congregate in Sage Creek would turn it into a war zone for gangs. He painted pictures of drugs, sex and violence, even though the proponents were volunteering their own resources to build it, and later their talents to coach sports and their time to monitor dances and other events.

Davenport’s shortsighted intolerance made Riley’s blood boil. A huge percentage of the resources of both his department in the county and the police department in the city was spent on juvenile crime. Drunkenness, vandalism, truancy, drug use, violence, reckless driving—he’d often wondered how much of it could be attributed to boredom.

He finished the article, which covered a meeting the opponents had held the night before, and tossed the paper back to Wade. “I’m starting to really hate the good commissioner.”

Hitting the intercom, Riley drummed his fingers on the desk until the line clicked open. “Liz, will you call Ellie at the radio station and tell her I want to make a plea for the youth park and have it look like news?”

Liz laughed. “You must have seen the paper. I’ll get right on it.”

When the intercom clicked closed, Wade snagged a chair with his boot, pulled it a little closer and sat down. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to come on too strong about this.”

“You have as little patience with the golf course bunch as I do.”

“But I’m not running for reelection.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.”

Wade’s grave tone gave Riley reason to listen. They’d joined the department as deputies the same year, and Wade had given him the first kick in the pants to run for sheriff. Wade had no aspirations for the job himself, but the political advice he’d given Riley had always been shrewd and consistent. “Okay, what?”

“Davenport’s acting like this issue is his ticket to reelection, and his enthusiasm for the golf course is winning him a lot of friends.”

“What does that have to do with my campaign?”

“If he views you as his opponent, you’re the one he’s going to fight.”

“Let him. He’s wrong, and if people understand the issue they’ll know he’s wrong. The county could pour three times as much money into crime prevention and not accomplish what The LAFF Place will. We’ve got everyone who cares about kids on our side. That’s a lot of committed voters.”

“Those committed voters will support you only if you’re still the favorite when the election rolls around. If Davenport can floor you, he’ll kick you while you’re down.”

Riley let Wade’s apprehension skim through his mind for about two seconds before shrugging it off. With almost six weeks until the election, he could deal with anything Davenport lobbed his way, and in the meantime, he had his hands full trying to find a child care solution for Ariel.