Dillon opened the passenger side door for Evie, “Thanks for goin’ to this meeting with me. I hate these things. All people do is complain.”
“Is any of it constructive?”
“Sometimes.” He sighed. “But it’s getting so hard to wade through the crap. I always asked for the minutes and a couple of us review them lookin’ for those gold nuggets.” He paused, “did you sign up for VINELink?”
“I did that before I left. Do I need to do it in KY too?”
“Wouldn’t hurt, I don’t think.”
“Okay.”
When they got settled at the meeting, the Ledbetter’s walked in. He leaned over to her, whispering in her ear, “settle in and watch the freak show”, kissed behind her ear. “I’ll be back.” He strolled upfront, setting between the county judge executive and a woman she didn’t know. They talked among themselves. The meeting was called to order old business was either discussed or tabled.
As soon as the call was made for new business, Rebecca started. She accused the sheriffs department of harassing her. When asked to explain herself, she outlined the events and the outcomes. The judge executive reported that based on her own testimony, he failed to see how she was being harassed. She was welcome to come to his office and file a formal complaint if she felt that was appropriate. She sat down dejected and visibly upset.
“But I’m a teacher,” she jumped back up. “Who has the time to go to traffic school or the money to pay for a ticket?”
The lady asked, “as a teacher, shouldn’t you be setting the example for our children? You were speeding and got caught. Looks like to me you are missing a very valuable teaching moment with your students.”
She sat back down more upset than before. A man about the age of Evie’s dad burst through the doors. “Where’s that gol darn no good egg suckin’ sheriff?”
The judge executive leaned over to Dillon whispering in his ear. He didn’t move. “How can we help you Mr. Bell?” The judge asked.
He pointed angrily at the sheriff, “sum bitch gave me a ticket and ass hole judge doubled it. I can spend 6 months in jail or pay. Who’s gonna take care of my farm fur 6 months. Sum bitch!”
“Why did you get a ticket, Mr. Bell?” The woman asked.
“Burnin’ trash, started a little brush fire.”
Dillon sighed, “Aug. 4th.”
“During the burn ban. Oh no!” She hissed.
A deputy Evie didn’t know escorted Mr. Bell out of the room. Dillon came back and sat with Evie as the mayor and other city officials moved to the front.
“Was that Porter,” she whispered?
“Yelp.”
“We’ll work something out with him.”
“Who’s the lady that was settin’ on the end?”
“Fire chief.”
The rest of the evening was more of the same; hostel residents voicing what they felt were legitimate complaints. A couple of them Dillon took notes on. For most, he kept his arm around Evie’s shoulders. Letting the complaints slide by. She noticed that from time to time, Rebecca would look their way glaring at them.
Dillon was in the barn pitchin’ hay, covered with grit and sweat. “How can I help?” Evie was leanin’ up against the side of his truck grinnin’ from ear to ear.
He blushed, “how long have you been standin’ there?”
Teka snorted, “just enjoying the show.”
“And you,” he pointed the pitchfork at Teka. “Some guard dog you are.” The horse snorted again. Curling her lips as if she was going to kiss him. “Keep me company,”
“I can do that.” Dillon lowered his tailgate and she hopped up. He gave her a playfull look. “Oh,” she put her hand over her mouth. “I forgot.” She hopped back down, battin’ her eyelashes. He slid his hands around her waist effortlessly picking her straight up. “Thank you kind sir.” Teka stuck her head out of her stall for Evie to pet.
“Hi my pretty girl,” she kissed between Teka’s eyes. “Are you enjoying the show?” The horse snorted. Dillon lowered his head, blushing as he smiled. “When it gets time to clean the barn, we can put out a message that you’re gonna teach a class of ‘Hillbilly yoga’ and sell spots.”
Dillon started laughing. “Hillbilly yoga?”
“This is a great workout. Not only would you be teachin’ a class on proper barn care. But look at the muscles you are working. We could do stretches, proper muscle movement so that you didn’t over exert. Proper ways to store tools.” Dillon just raised an eyebrow. “When we were in school they had FFA, do they still do that? Would this qualify as FFA?” She questioned before continuing. “This is an amazing off-site learning environment. And with you being the sheriff, everyone knows you. Parents wouldn’t hesitate to let their teens come here to learn.” She thought, “even on field trips.” He just grinned, watching her as he leaned on the handle of the pitchfork. “What?” She blushed.
“Is this what you meant when you said you ‘sold Doug’s work’?”
“More or less.”
“If it excites you, you’re free to try.”
“Oooh,” she looked him up and down. “At the next sheriff’s department fundraiser, we can auction off a date with the hunky sheriff.”
He leaned the pitchfork on his truck, strolled over to her, pulling her to the edge of the tailgate. She wrapped her legs around his waist. “Hell no.”
“Just think of the money you would raise.”
He kissed her. “If anyone won but you,” he trailed off.
“On second thought, I’ll just keep you to myself and make a private donation.”
When he looked up, her eyes were twinkling with a mischievous expression he didn’t know. But was eager to explore. In between kisses he asked, “don’t you think yoga is a misrepresentation? Isn’t it more a series of poses and stretchs?”
She giggled, “y sheriff. You never cease to amaze me.”
Willie Torres Jr, a Christian, Christian author, and fellow blogger shared the following song with me. Hadn’t heard it before but it falls right inline with our ‘Celebrating Christmas through song’.
Bradley knocked on the sheriff’s office door, “you wanted to see me sir?”
“Come in, sit. Something to drink?”
“Pop, I’m a little dusty.”
Dillon clambered out of his chair returning with 2 cans. “I want your help with something.” He handed Bradley a can as he sat back down.
“You know, I will do my best.”
Dillon got up with a folder in his hand, setting beside Bradley. “Evie,” he stopped short, looking at Bradley.
He smiled a big smile, “I promise not to call her Evie.”
Dillon blushed as he continued, “she said at dinner that she had been in the e.r. 6 times. I only have 5 reports.” He pulled them out lining them up on his desk. “And only 2 of them are accompanied by police reports. She said her dad called in a wellness check, where’s that report?”
“Maybe one never got filed.”
“It’s standard procedure.”
“For us.” Bradley remarked. “Do you think she has copies?”
“She has some.”
Bradley raised an eyebrow, “you know this how?”
“When I was helping her move in, a box fell apart and they spewed all over the floor.”
Bradley picked a random one and started reading, “holy gee.” He hissed. “It’s a thousand wonders she’s not dead.” He continued thumbing through the reports. “Being tied to a bed for a month, was there a hospital report? You know she had to be malnourished, dehydrated and quite possibly needed physical therapy. There is information somewhere.” When he looked up, Dillon seemed lost. “Are you okay?”
“Not really. I can’t wrap my head around this.” There was a knock at the door. “Just a minute.” They worked together to scoop up the files and put them back in the folder.
“Gott’em.” Bradley reassured him.
“Come in,” Dillon was putting the file away as Clint walked in.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all. Come in.” Dillon closed the file cabinet.
Clint had a folder in his hand. As the door clicked shut, he spoke, “this may be nuttin’ but it’s eatin’ at me. I sorta pulled Rebecca Ledbetter over the other day. There is nothing anywhere about her until she moved to Sunshine Valley 12 years ago. That’s when she bought the old Longsworth place. Before she married. On the deed to the house it was Rebecca Morrison. Do you think she could be in the WPP?”
Bradley thought out loud, “she did get the job at the school quick fast and in a hurry. My Sarah has a degree in education. Born and raised here, but had to go to Perkinsville to get a job teaching.”
Clint added, “maybe she was a teacher and the WPP transferred her credentials?”
“Doubtful,” Dillon answered. There was a few minutes of silence.
“I was able to find out, she paid for the property in cash.”
Dillon locked eyes with Bradley and they both looked at Clint.
Bradley whistled, “that’s a chunk of change.”
“What about Simon?” Dillon ask knowing the answer.
“He’s an open book. From birth to now.” Clint paused. “Did you know, he’s an electrical engineer?”
Bradley hissed, “really?”
“Yeah.” Clint answered with excitement.
“What about her is bothering you?” Dillon asked.
“Honestly, airthang. She has made my skin crawl since the first day I met her. But,” he shrugged. “I had no reason to check her out.”
“Trust your instincts.” Dillon reassured him. “But if you find out we are dealin’ with the WPP, tread softly.”
HearI’m putting my voice out into the world, can you hear me?I’m putting my voice out into the world, can you hear me?I’m putting my voice out into the world, can you hear me?I’m putting my voice out into the world, can! you! hear me?
Poetry & More 