True Knight

the time, Prosper Woods just isn’t a hub of crime if you know what I mean.” Sally grinned at me again and then turned, walking over to a cabinet, and pulling out a mug. She set it on the counter and reached for the pot, pouring me a cup, and then returning the pot to the burner. I gratefully accepted the brew from her hands as she gestured to a refrigerator which looked like a 1950s throwback.
“Creamer and half and half are in there. We didn’t know what you’d want so Precious stocked up for you. She also brought these from home. She’s quite the baker. Doesn’t like chocolate for some reason but the general store carries the boxed brand if you like those.” Sally reached for a tin with brightly painted pictures of cookies on the outside.
“I’m sorry. Precious is who?” I reached for a sugar cookie as Sally opened the tin for me. It smelled delicious as I bit into it.
“Oh, sorry. Precious is our dispatcher. She does all our regular filing as well as handling the phones. She’s been with us about six months. Just sent her down to the post office to pick up mail and drop off bills. If we wait until Jedediah brings it around, it’ll take all day and I didn’t know how much you wanted to do today if anything. Maybe you just want to settle in and we’re fine with that.”
I chewed the cookie that tasted as good as it smelled, chasing it down with a slug of the strong coffee while she chattered. It was like listening to background noise that I was only half hearing as I pondered my new surroundings. I was fairly sure I’d somehow found heaven when I’d answered the Internet ad for sheriff of a small town in northern California.
“This is good.” I held out the remains of my cookie.
“She’s good, our Precious. Come on. Let me show you your office and then I suppose you’ll want to see the cabin. I think it was really nice that the mayor had it spruced up for you after our last sheriff took off to unknown parts without a word to anyone. Anyway, you’ll see the cabin for yourself soon enough.”
“That’d be nice. Thanks, Sally.” I followed her out of the small coffee room, turning down the hall and passing by an empty holding cell. When I’d spoken to Mayor Farrell about the position as town sheriff, he told me that they rarely held prisoners unless they were being transferred to Stockton where they’d see a judge and be locked up until trial. Prosper Woods didn’t have the jail capacity to hold anyone other than a quick overnight stay for a drunk and disorderly or a bar fight, the most common infractions I’d see. Mayor Farrell had assured me that the town hadn’t seen a major crime in decades.
Sally opened the last door in the hallway to a bright room with a large window that let in lots of natural light. A large metal desk sat several paces from the door and a leather office chair was positioned behind it. One wall was paneled in a dark wood and on it hung several black-and-white photos of what looked like the town in past days. I walked over and stared in awe at one that pictured the same brick buildings I’d passed by as I drove into town. These were from a bygone era. The dirt streets were populated with horses. A wagon sat in front of what was now an updated bar. The painted sign read, “Prosper Woods Saloon”. A woman in long skirts and a frilly hat sat atop the wagon beside a man wearing a cowboy hat and boots.
“That’s one of the first photos of the town as it existed a hundred years ago,” Sally said from beside me.
I jumped. I hadn’t even heard her approach. I turned and once again noted her apple cheeked grin as she stared at the photo. I was pretty sure I was going to like Sally. She was friendly and seemed to have a sharp mind. I doubted there was much that got by the woman. I had the overwhelming feeling that she was more than capable. Something occurred to me as I walked over to the desk and set my duffel on top of it.
“You said Dave works three days a week. He’s the other deputy?”
“Oh, sure. You’ll meet him later today. He works at the garage on alternate days.” Sally looked around before turning back to me. “Well, I guess there isn’t much to show you.” She pointed to a file folder. “That’s a file for Buck Walters. He was picked up on a drunk and disorderly last night. I released him after he cooled off in the holding cell overnight. He’ll see the circuit judge when he comes ‘round next month. Until then, he’s released on his own recog.”
“He’s a frequent flier?”
Sally let out a low chuckle, nodding. “You could say that. He’s a moonshiner who lives in a rundown cabin in the backwoods. Comes ‘round whenever he’s had a good payday and hangs out at the saloon until Greg has to roll him out the door at closing. Buck usually goes quietly, but last night he objected to ending his binge and threw a few punches. Greg finally had to escort him out to the street by the back of his collar and the seat of his pants. I was headed home when one of the patrons gave me a call. Anyway, Buck’s not your problem today.”
“I take it Greg is the bar owner?”
“Bartender. He lives in Frederick just outside town about five miles. Floyd Reardon is the owner. He bought the bar from the daughter of its previous owner who wanted nothing to do with it. Floyd’s not around much. He leaves things to Greg who’s a nice