Support Your Local Sheriff

“I don’t need a uniform,” Nate whispered back, not enjoying this at all. He’d rather be chasing chickens. “I have a star on my truck and a badge in my pocket.”

Doris wasn’t the whispering type. In fact, she was practically shouting now. “I’m saying that we the people and only we the people should decide who serves our community. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck with a sheriff—” without turning, Doris pointed behind her, toward Nate “—who badgers our residents, berates citizens for their lifestyle choices and bullies the elderly with citations and tickets they can’t afford to pay!”

“Freaky,” Flynn said louder, causing the baby to stir and loosen the blanket again. “It’s like you and Doris are psychically connected. She knew exactly where you were sitting.”

“She saw me come in.” Nate could solve that mystery more easily than the one involving what made Doris so bitter. “She can’t be this upset over tickets.”

Doris held up a sheaf of papers. “I have here twenty signed reports from residents about Sheriff Landry’s behavior.”

Nate didn’t think he’d given out twenty tickets in the past year.

“Twenty reports stating that Sheriff Landry gave them warnings rather than a citation with a fee attached. Whereas I...” Doris had worked into huff-and-puff mode. “Whereas I have received three citations in the past three months! I demand we let the people decide who protects us. I demand we fire the sheriff and hold an election!” She dropped the stack of papers on the podium like a rapper dropped a mic at the end of a show. Except she kept talking. “I demand—”

“In my defense—” Nate tucked Ian’s blue blanket more securely around his tiny shoulders “—the only way to handle Doris is to give her a ticket and drive away.”

“Now, Doris...” Mayor Larry made a rare appearance in an argument. Normally, he delegated trouble to the town council so he could remain as neutral as Switzerland. “These are serious allegations. Please approach with your notes so we may look them over.”

Clod-clump. Clod-clump.

“Notes?” Doris snatched up the papers again, clutching them to her chest. “This is my evidence!”

Clod-clump. Clod-clump.

The gray-haired residents of Harmony Valley had probably never done the wave at a sports stadium. But their heads turned in the same rippled effect to stare Nate’s way, starting from the back of the church and moving forward. Grins and coos rippled through the assembled, almost as if—

The little hand returned to Nate’s shoulder, followed by a hot-breathed, “Hi.”

Another mystery solved. Residents were doing the neck-craning wave to watch an angelic toddler putting on a show behind Nate.

When Nate turned his head, he received another gentle forehead bump. “You’re an awesome little dude.” Nate ruffled the boy’s hair.

The boy’s gray eyes widened in delight. “I Duke.” He tapped his skinny chest and grinned.

The majority of the assembled chuckled. The majority being over age sixty-five and being grandparents or great-grandparents who appreciated precocious children.

Behind Nate, someone emitted a heavy sigh. Feminine hands drew the toddler out of view once more.

“For years—” Doris half glanced behind her as if sensing she was losing her audience “—you four have ruled Harmony Valley. Well, no more! The people want to be heard. The people want a say. The people want to vote for a sheriff of our own choosing!”

Nate sat back against the pew. He wasn’t the hand-shaking, promise-making, run-for-office type.

“Now, Doris...” Mayor Larry hated discord and looked as if he was ready to break Robert’s rules of order and escape out the back. He started again. “Now, Doris—”

“Don’t you Now, Doris me. I want action and I want it now!”

“She slipped up there,” Flynn noted. “She said I.”

“The people...” Doris was quick with a correction. “The people want action now!”

“I’m going to remind the speaker,” Mayor Larry said carefully. “That there is a review process written in the town bylaws—”

“By you.” Doris scoffed.

The mayor tilted his head down and stared at Doris over the rim of his rectangular readers. “Written by the town council over seventy years ago.”

“Hi!” Duke shouted, completely stealing the limelight and bringing some much-needed laughter to the proceedings.

Doris spun, so upset at being upstaged her short hair seemed to tilt forward and take aim at the upstager.

The few residents not enamored of little Duke straightened and quieted like school children caught misbehaving. The rest kept on smiling and scrunching their faces in funny ways designed to encourage the boy, not calm him down. He really was a cute kid. Not even Doris was immune to his charms. Her expression seemed to soften.

“We should wrap this up so we can all meet that adorable young man in the back.” Agnes spoke into the microphone. “These are all good points, Doris. Therefore...” Agnes waited until Doris faced her again. “I move we hold a sheriff’s election as soon as possible. Say...this week, so as not to hinder our Spring Festival plans.”

Voices disappeared beneath a rush of sound, as if Nate was passing a semitruck on the highway with his windows down. His position was an inconvenience to the Spring Festival? His livelihood? His future?

The assembled were just as shocked as Nate. The church had fallen into a stunned silence. There wasn’t so much as a peep from Doris or Duke.

During the lull, Agnes elbowed Rose.

“Uh...” Rose looked as confused as Nate felt.

Mildred, who had a slight resemblance to Mrs. Claus, pushed her thick lenses higher up her nose and sighed. “I suppose... I second?”

Anticipating peace, the mayor beamed at the council. “All in favor?”

All three town councilwomen said, “Aye.”

“Motion passed.” The mayor closed out the meeting.

“An election?” Nate’s plain and simple world was suddenly not so plain and simple.

“Don’t sweat it.” Flynn stared down at Ian with a whole lotta love in his eyes. “You signed a new contract and you’re the only qualified candidate in town. In a week, you’ll win by a landslide.”

Nate’s future was out of his control. He didn’t think he’d sleep for a week.

“I Duke.” The little dude gripped Nate’s shoulder.

The woman’s hands drew him back.

“Juju,” the boy scolded.

In the past eighteen months or so, there’d been an influx of younger residents to Harmony Valley and a baby boom. Nate turned more fully in his seat to see who held his new friend.

Familiar gray eyes collided with his.

The storm cloud returned. And flashed with lightning.

* * *