No Ordinary Sheriff

Cash’s fingers dug into Austin’s bony elbow. With a quiet yelp the boy came along.

On the way to the Sheriff’s office, Cash nodded to the people of Ordinary who passed them by. Austin hung his head and shuffled beside Cash.

Cash’s office sat between the small grocery store and Scotty’s Hardware. Seeing it filled Cash with pride.

In a backhanded way, Frank had inspired him to become a cop, if only to prove that it could be done in a better way.

That a man could be a good and honorable cop and make a difference to the people around him. That a man didn’t have to drive his way through every obstacle with the force of a Mack truck to get to the top. That a man didn’t have to want to get to the top. That a man could be happy in his job, just the way it was, just where it was.

Cash opened the office door and stepped inside, taking Austin with him. He nudged him into a chair in front of the desk.

Wade Hanlon came out of the washroom.

“Anything interesting happen last night?” Cash asked.

“Not a thing.”

Cash turned to Austin. “Stay put there for a minute. I need to talk to the deputy.”

Austin put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders.

Cash gestured Wade toward the back of the room and asked quietly, “Did someone call from Billings asking about methamphetamines in Ordinary?”

“Yeah, that afternoon I took over while you went to the dentist. I told them we didn’t have that problem here.”

“Apparently, we do.”

“We do?” Wade looked surprised but also a tad sheepish. He probably didn’t like disappointing his new boss. “How do you know?”

“There’s a man in hospital in Billings who overdosed on meth he says he picked up here.”

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“Yeah, I do. I know the guy. He’s a friend’s brother.”

Wade looked even more embarrassed. “Sorry, Sheriff. I had no idea.”

“In the future, let me know about those kinds of calls. I need to know everything that goes on around here. Everything. Got it?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“Keep your eyes and ears open around town. That meth is here somewhere.”

“Okay, boss.”

Wade stepped to the desk and opened a Styrofoam container from the diner. It held a couple of cinnamon buns. “Those’re for you. There’s fresh coffee. See you tonight. Seven, right?”

Cash and Wade worked opposite shifts.

Cash took Austin to the movies on Friday nights, so Hanlon came in an hour early.

After Wade left, Cash walked around the desk.

He noticed Austin’s gaze flicker to the cinnamon buns. Yeah, he’d have the munchies right now, from the marijuana. Looking at Austin’s thin face, he amended that.

“When was the last time your mom bought groceries?”

Austin shrugged and remained close-lipped. Cash had to admire his loyalty to his mom. In his own way, the kid had a lot of class. Connie Trumball wasn’t doing much of a job mothering her boy, but Cash had yet to hear Austin badmouth her.

Connie wasn’t a great mother, but she was Austin’s.

Cash took a can of ginger ale from a small refrigerator and handed it to him.

Austin looked up, surprised.

Sometimes Austin was so closed off he seemed encased in concrete. At other times, like right now, the boy had cellophane for skin. Cash got such a clear glimpse of Austin and his quiet suffering, of his settling for less in life that Cash wanted to hold him and whisper, wish for more, dream for more. Don’t settle. You deserve it.

“Take it,” Cash urged.

He slid a bun across the desk.

“Eat,” he ordered.

Austin hesitated, then picked up the sticky bun and took a huge bite. He licked icing from his fingers, then slurped loudly when he washed it down with ginger ale.

Cash pushed the second bun across the table. “I can’t eat this one, either. Want it?”

Austin shrugged, then took the box and dug into the second bun. When Austin finished he wiped his mouth with the dirty sleeve of his jacket. Cash cringed. That coat belonged in the garbage.

“Okay,” Cash said as he stood. “Let’s go.” Cash pointed toward the jail cell. “You commit the crime, you pay the price.”

Austin shot him an owl-eyed look of terror. He stood and swallowed, his little Adam’s apple bobbing in his thin throat.

“I have to go to school.”

“Not today.” He pointed toward the cell. “Go.”

Austin shuffled in and Cash locked the door behind him. He had more to say to Austin, but not until the boy had spent some time behind bars.

“Might as well sit,” Cash said. “You’re going to be here awhile.”

Austin sat on the narrow cot and stared at Cash with huge eyes.

“I have to go out,” Cash said. “Nap if you want. There’s a blanket on the chair.”

Austin shook out the folded blanket, then lay down and pulled it over himself, covering his old jacket, cheap running shoes and all. In a matter of minutes, he was out like a light.

Austin was a sweet kid in so many ways. Since his father’s death half a dozen years ago, though, the only attention he craved was a father’s.