The Cowboy Sheriff

“Already called them. They’re waiting at the end of Rattlesnake Road.”

Simon eased out from behind the car, unsnapping his holster as he moved, and edged slowly up the gentle slope toward the house. “Hey, Harvey. How’s it going?”

“Who’s that?”

“Now, Harvey, you’re going to hurt my feelings. You’ve known me since I was born.”

“Simon?”

“Got it in one.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Came to ask why you’re sitting out here in the cold waving that .357 around. I know there aren’t any rattlesnakes out today.”

“There’s snakes aplenty. They just have two legs.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that. Hope you don’t include me in that category.”

Harvey seemed to think about that for a moment longer than Simon would have liked, and he resisted the urge to place his palm atop his sidearm.

“Nah, you’re a good sort,” Harvey finally said, allowing Simon to breathe a smidge easier.

“You are, too, Harvey. But you do tend to make people nervous when you’re waving a gun around.”

Harvey looked at the gun in his hand as if he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why it was there.

“How about you set that gun down and we’ll talk about what’s bothering you?”

Harvey lowered the gun, then hesitated, twisting it in his hand to examine it, before placing it on the porch beside his right hip. “Ah, hell, I’m in trouble again, aren’t I?”

“You haven’t hurt anyone, and you’re on your own property, but I do need you to go to the hospital and get your medication back in order.”

Harvey grimaced. “That stuff makes me feel like I’ve got cotton for brains.”

“I’m sorry about that, but it keeps you from scaring the neighbors and maybe hurting someone. You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you?”