Wistful in Wisconsin

a change in bosses, seems to me.”
Fred grunted. “Don’t hold your breath. I can’t see the old banker being voted in. Not with the crimes we’ve had in the last year.”
Hansen only shrugged and smiled. The sheriff studied him before gesturing toward the door. “Go on. Your shift’s over.”
The belligerent deputy swaggered out of the office, whistling a tune Fred didn’t recognize. Sending up a silent prayer, Fred pleaded with the Lord to move a decent man into town. A man to replace Hansen as his second deputy.
His mind was seeing conspiracy in everyone today. Did what Hansen said about waiting for a change of sheriffs mean he was also working for Strong and couldn’t be trusted?
He rubbed weary hands down his face as he groaned. A conspiracy, an election, and a female stalker! It was more than one man should have to deal with on any given day.
Fred did a quick check to see if any prisoners had arrived in the night. Assured that the jail was empty, he left it. He’d see what Mayor Amos Ledbetter had to say about this sudden election—an election no one had bothered to tell Fred about, curiously. Being a lawyer, Amos would have some slippery explanation, and Fred couldn’t wait to hear it.
The lawyer’s storefront office sat near to the mercantile and kitty corner to the sheriff’s office. Fred stomped through the slushy street and arrived at its door quickly. He stopped with his hand on the door knob. Breathing in deeply, he calmed his anger.
No, that was too harsh a word. His annoyance. Fred tucked his annoyance deep inside and entered the small one-story building.
The clerk, Phineas Peters, rose to welcome the sheriff. At the other man’s cold expression, he blanched. Fred had noticed this reaction before. Innocent people who seemed to look guilty in the presence of the law.
“Calm down, Peters. I’m not here to arrest you. I just want a word with your boss.”
After an audible gulp, the law clerk held up his hand with the palm facing Fred. “You can’t go in there. He’s speaking with the banker.”
Fred grinned and watched Peters grow even paler, something Fred didn’t think was possible. His happy chuckle made Phineas cringe.
Why, it was like the man could read Fred’s mind. Phineas let his hand drop. He let his body drop, too, back into his chair.
With a resigned shake of his head, he wearily gave into Fred’s will. “I suppose you’ll do what you want.”
“That’s ‘bout the size of it, Peters.” Fred clucked his tongue at the man’s grimace. “I’ll be sure to tell your boss that you tried to stop me. Yell something like, ‘You can’t go in there,’ when I open the door.”
Like he was a marionette and Fred pulled his strings, the clerk rose boneless and headed to the door. When Fred opened it, Peters yelled, “I told you he was busy. Now, leave.”
Before speaking to the older men in this inner office, he stopped to give Peters a look. He didn’t know the man had that much gumption in him, even if it was playacting. Maybe here was a possible deputy.
A sputtered complaint from Ledbetter pulled Fred’s attention from his maybe future deputy to the two conspirators. Fred stepped into the room, closing the door on the clerk who already turned to head back to his desk.
“Well, this is convenient. I planned to see Strong next. Makes me happy to find you here, banker.” Pleasant enough words, but the sheriff’s grim set to his mouth showed them for the lies that they were.
Yes, he’d planned to see Strong. That didn’t make him happy to discover the mayor and the man were in cahoots. Of course, everyone knew Amos did a lot of work for the banker so it made sense for him to be at the man’s office.
James Strong rose from his slouched position in the chair situated in front of the lawyer’s large oak desk. Moving to block Fred, he silently challenged him. That silence didn’t last long.
“Once a farm boy, always one I see. You’ve got the manners of a clodhopper, Sittig, forcing your way into Amos’s office.”
Fred’s grin had a definite effect on the other man. The banker’s face turned red, and Fred wondered if the man would have a fit or maybe a seizing of his heart.
The older man made a sort of growling sound before shaking a finger in Fred’s face. Due to his lack of height, he had to reach up to do it, ruining much of the effect. Fred’s face tightened as he worked to keep his expression neutral, even with that humorous sight.
“Sheriff, you push your weight around too much. It’s why I stepped up to replace you.” Strong dropped his finger and instead put both hands on his coat to straighten it, a kind of emphasis of his words. “Amos saw reason and called this special election.”
“Yeah, about that election. Why didn’t anyone tell me about it?”
Strong arched an eyebrow and curled his upper lip. “You know about it now, so why are you complaining?”
The man’s superior tone had Fred itching to grab him by his lapels. Good thing for Strong that Fred was a sheriff and wouldn’t become violent. No matter that he’d dealt with plenty of violent men since becoming first a deputy and then sheriff.
For the first time, Amos spoke. “When you became—” His voice cracked and he paused.
Clearing his throat, he tried again. “When I appointed you as sheriff, there was no election. Not after Sheriff Redmond had just been killed.” The mayor reddened.
It crossed Fred’s mind that the man probably was remembering how Redmond was killed and who killed him. To save the banker’s daughter-in-law, Fred had fired the fatal shot. He’d do it again. The sheriff had been a corrupt lawman, one who