Chapter 31

"Oh man. That was Dad checking up on me before he goes to bed," Deputy Miller's voice was full of humor as he returned to the sheriff's office where I was waiting. "He probably thinks we're fuuhhhk ... Hey."

"I'm sorry, sir. But I have to go," I said and I was pointing the young man's pistol at him, one of those big black semi-automatic kind. It seemed incredibly heavy and my heart was going a hundred miles an hour.

"Just, um ... put that down, okay?" He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes at the weapon.

"Go that way ... Go on. Back up," I nodded my head. "I don't want to hurt you, sir. I'm just going to lock you up."

"What? Why?" Deputy Miller wondered and his semi-hard cock was still hanging out the front of his uniform.

"Go." I jerked the gun a little and he started backing up through the large central office. "I can't let the sheriff sell me to somebody else. I have to go home, see?"

"Go home?" The boy looked confused. "What did you run away for if you want to go back home?"

"I didn't run away. I got stolen," I said. "Keep moving, sir. Back to that room I was in before."

"Stolen?" Deputy Miller frowned. "Look, um ... just give me the gun and I'll help you, alright? We'll get it all sorted out."

"No, keep going," I told him and it was about all I could do to keep my hand steady. I was scared to death inside. "I just want to get home again. I want to be with my Master, that's all."

"Well ... Hold on then..." The deputy stopped moving. "Here, don't shoot me. I got ... Look..." he was reaching into his pocket and keeping his eyes on me, " ... Here's the keys to my truck. I'll just put them here, okay?"

"You're giving me your truck?" I watched him put the keys on one of the desks that were near us.

"Well, how else are you gonna get home?" he gave me a lop-sided grin. "Walk?"

"Ummm ... I was gonna take a police car or something," I shrugged, but the fact was I didn't have any plan at all, except to get outside.

"That wouldn't get you too far, people would notice that," the boy shook his head. "You need your clothes too, right? We got your suitcase, all your stuff."

"You do?" I narrowed my eyes. "You're trying to trick me. Just keep going."

"No, I'm not," Deputy Miller shook his head. "Look, I just ... I'll help you okay? Let me help you, and you put the gun down, and..."

"I'm not putting down the gun," I snorted.

"Okay, um, keep the gun, fine, just ... Don't point it right at me, okay?" he smiled. "How about money? You need some of that too right? For gas and food and whatever?"

"Yeah," I frowned because he was thinking of a lot of stuff I hadn't. But I'd never escaped from jail before neither.

"I can get you some," the deputy said. "My dad's got money here, just petty cash to run the office, but it's some money anyway."

"Okay, um, where?"

"I'll tell you, but you have to take me with you," Deputy Miller said seriously.

"What?" I almost rolled my eyes at him. "I'm not taking you hostage, sir. I'm gonna leave you here, I told you that."

"No. I don't want to be a hostage!" he laughed. "I mean, I want to go with you."

"Come with me?" I bit my lip. "Why?"

"Cause, uh..." he sighed softly and looked down for a moment, and then back up, into my eyes, " ... I think I love you, Danielle."

"What?" I did roll my eyes that time. "You're crazy!"

"I'm serious, I don't know. Didn't you feel something?" he asked, sounding almost desperate. "When we kissed?"

I swear, if that white boy wasn't speaking the truth from his heart, he should have gone to Nashville and made movies for a living. He wasn't lying, I didn't think, but still ... How was I ever gonna be able to trust him? He was a sheriff's deputy, the sheriff's own son to boot, and I was breaking out of his jail. Probably he just wanted to get his hands on that gun, or just on me and take the gun away. He'd get to be the hero and the good son of a proud father, and...

Maybe he wasn't lying.

"Maybe," I swallowed hard, because I had liked being with him, more than just the sex. But I didn't think it was love, not like love at first sight or anything. Not like I loved my Master.

"Me too," he said.

"How do I know you're not lying to me?"

"Because..." Deputy Miller took a step towards me.

I pointed the gun at him, but he took another step and just reached for it, taking it gently out of my fingers. I wasn't ever going to shoot him, but I didn't think he knew that, and he surprised me. Surprised both of us maybe.

"You have to cock it before you can shoot it." He pulled back the hammer with his thumb so it clicked into place. "See? And this lever here? That's the safety. Red is dead, right?"

I watched as he flipped a little lever up.

"Now it's ready to shoot." He held it out for me to take if I wanted it, the gun flat on his palm and pointed at nobody. "Just don't point it at me, okay? Really, cause it's loaded and everything."

"Um ... You'll really come with me?" I asked him, looking up from the gun into his face.

"I'll make sure you get home, Danielle," he promised. "If that's what you want."

"Even though I have a Master?" I bit my bottom lip. "I'm his bedroom negra and he..."

"He probably wants you back, yeah," the deputy nodded and his eyes were gentle and looking into mine. "I would too if I was him."

"But..." I sighed, frowning and looking down. "You don't even know me. Your dad, the sheriff, he's gonna be pretty mad and..."

"Look, I'm stuck in this town. I'm going to be a deputy my whole life probably, working for my dad. I've never even been out of Arizona, you know? I'm twenty-one years old. I got no girlfriend ... Or boyfriend," he gave me a sheepish smile. "My dad thinks I'm a fag and he's pissed about that. I want to leave, believe me. So, I mean ... This is as good a reason as any, right?"

I blinked rapidly as I took all that in.

"Aren't you a good enough reason, Danielle?" the man asked me softly.

He'd long since put that gun down and we were just standing there empty handed. I didn't know what to say, or even what to do, but I'd liked his words a lot. Deputy Miller had his own reasons for helping me, other than any foolish romantic notions, I mean. He was a boy trying to be a man, I supposed, and so long as he stayed in that town, his father wasn't going to let him grow up. Least-wise that's what he seemed to be saying to me, that's how the young Deputy Miller thought of it, and that's really all that counted.

And maybe, I allowed myself a warm little thought, just maybe he really did love me the way he thought he did.

"Okay," I nodded. "Yeah. You can come with me, I guess."

"Yeah? Okay. Good, yeah then, uh ... Alright let's get your clothes, right? And some money and uh, we'll go." He was smiling and animated suddenly, and looking around, trying to think of everything.

"Hey."

"Huh? What?" he looked at me.

"What's your first name anyways?" I asked him with a smile.

"Oh, it's Drew ... Uh, Andrew," he shrugged.

"Okay, Drew," I giggled. "You might want to, um, put that ... away."

I was wagging my finger at his penis, which was soft and forgotten, hanging out of his trousers and still wet with his precum. It had made a little stain on the front of the deputy's uniform and he looked down at it with some surprise. Drew's face grew red as he blushed and I just teased him with a sad shake of my head.

"Well, that's ... Embarrassing." He smacked his lips, turning away from me so he could fix himself. "Sorry."

"Oh, it didn't bother me, sir." I looked all innocent for him. "I thought it was kind of cute actually."

"At least we got it out of the way," he took a deep breath. "I mean, you know, even farting won't be a big deal after that."

"You fart?" I looked at him in shock and then laughed as he took a second to catch up with me.

"Do you like Mexican food?" he asked and he was leading us to my clothes, or so I assumed.

"Oh, please don't mention food! I'm starving," I groaned.

"We'll go south first," Drew decided and he was unlocking a closet, or a little storeroom, I guess. "Here ... This one's yours, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's my suitcase," I nodded. "Why south? For Mexican food?"

"Yeah!" he grinned at me. "That and they'll be looking in the other directions. You know, Memphis is east, that's where you're from, right?"

"Yeah," I replied, following him to the sheriff's office while he carried the little suitcase and all the clothes that Mr. Davis had bought me.

"The Union is North, in case you want to get free," Drew said. "And west is Nevada, where you might as well be free, and California, where they'd probably put you in a beer commercial."

"What?" I laughed. "They would not!"

"Shoot! Have you seen yourself?" Drew grinned at me as he pried open his father's desk with the sheriff's coffee spoon it looked like. "You're gorgeous. I'd buy all kinds of beer from you."

"Oh God!" I rolled my eyes and I was shrugging myself out of that orange jumpsuit I was still wearing.

"But south ... Ah, there..." he had the drawer open and he pulled out a little metal box, " ... Shoot, all they got down there is the Indian Nation, Old Mexico, and the border patrols."

"You said that was the way to go, though." I watched as he opened the box, pulling out a thin sheaf of dog eared Confederate dollars. "South?"

"Yeah, into the Nation and then east and across the desert that way," Drew said, counting the money. "Takes a little longer, but it's safer maybe. We got two hundred and forty six dollars."

"Safer?" I pursed my lips. "I heard the Indians don't want anybody going though their country."

"They don't!" Drew grinned at me. "But we got Arizona plates anyway and they're not bad. They just wanna be left alone. Long as we don't stop someplace and build a house, we'll be okay."

"Ohhh..." I nodded my head slowly.

"What?" Drew looked at me and I was pretty naked, which made him swallow hard and then look away, turning his head like a real gentleman, which made me smile.

"I get it now, a longer trip, huh?" I grinned at him. "That's okay, I guess."

"Oh, no ... I didn't mean like I wanted to go south cause I'd be with you longer," he said, taking a peek as I pulled an emerald green sun dress into place. "But, I'm not gonna complain."

"Uh-huh, okay," I agreed dubiously, buttoning my buttons, about thirteen of them all down the front. I hadn't bothered with a bra, just some white bikini panties.

"Hmmm..." Drew rubbed his handsome jaw, glancing around like he was trying to think of what else we might need, but mostly he was looking at me and I smiled prettily for him.

"What are we gonna say if we get stopped?" I asked, sitting in the front of Drew's pickup truck.

It was a Volkswagon four wheel drive, black with big tires and roll bars and fog lights. I liked the way it sat up kind of high and the big bench seat let me get comfortable, leaning up against the man while he drove. I was eating Drew's dinner, a sandwich and some chips and an apple he'd brought with him to work. I was pretty hungry, but not tired, even though it was after midnight. I'd taken a pretty good nap earlier.

Old Aaron Sumner was singing on the radio, a song from back when he was young and skinny and beautiful. The King of Rock 'n Roll and he was from Memphis, like all the early rockers were. The South invented rock n roll, you know. And Aaron was The King and even though his songs were old and you heard them a million times already? They were still good and I wondered what the world would be like without him in it. I guessed there'd be a different King then, but he wouldn't be as good probably. There was only one Aaron Sumner and he always made me feel better.

"Well, I guess we'll just say you're my negra," Drew shrugged in answer to my question. "And hope they don't scan you."

"Heh!" I snorted at that.

"What?" He looked at me and Drew had his right arm around my shoulders while he drove.

"Wouldn't do them any good now," I said, swallowing the last of the sandwich. "I don't have a slave tattoo any more."

"You don't? Why not?"

"Cause the sheriff took it off," I said. "He had some guy do it, um, Stanley or something?"

"Stanley Gibbons? He's the County Recorder," Drew sounded puzzled. "What did he do that for?"

"So he could auction me off," I nodded. "So nobody would know who owned me."

"That's illegal as hell," Drew was frowning. "That's an automatic ten years in jail for messing with a slave tattoo."

"That's why I couldn't stay," I said. "They were gonna auction me off, split the money up probably."

"Shit." Drew didn't sound too happy. "My dad was doing that?"

"Yeah," I nodded, feeling kind of bad because it was plain the young man had no idea what his father was up to.

"See? That's the kind of stuff I hate."

"What's that?"

"My dad, doing that kind of thing," he was nodding to himself. "He's always telling me to do the right thing, you know? Be a good Christian and join the Klan and be a good deputy."

"Hmmm," I sighed, biting my apple.

"And he's breaking the law, a big law too. He's so full of it," Drew sighed too and I held the apple up so he could take a bite.

"You're in the Ku Klux Klan?" I asked him, just to change the subject.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he said around a mouthful of apple. "Course I am. It's mandatory, you know, in high school, and if you're a cop, well, it's still mandatory," he laughed. "They say it ain't, but ... You know."

"Yeah," I shrugged, even though I didn't really know.

"It's fun anyway, mostly, but sometimes we have to take care of business."

"What kinda business?" I wondered. There was Klan back in Memphis, of course, and Mr. Reiser had been in it until he'd graduated college or something, but they were kind of a secretive bunch. Leastwise they were around black people.

"Last month we busted up some Revival outside of town," Drew chuckled. "This nigger preacher was talking bout how Jesus was black or some crap like that."

"Jesus was black?" I giggled at that idea.

"Yeah. He was saying that since Jesus lived there in Africa that he had to be a nigger too," Drew shook his head.

"Everybody knows Jesus was white," I said. "He's the son of God."

"We know it," Drew smiled at me. "But that preacher didn't. He was crazy. He was whoring out his girls too, that was mostly what they were doing."

"Oh yeah? What was he, freeborn or something?"

"He was from Utah, one of those Mormons. He had like three wives, two white women and a negra, he bought her someplace though. She's from the South."

"Three wives?" I laughed. "I ain't never heard of that."

"Yeah. Utah's a weird country," Drew nodded. "That preacher said God told him to come down south and spread the word that Jesus was a nigger and didn't like slaves, cause all the Jews were slaves before, you know, and Jesus was a Jew."

"Jesus was a black Jew?" I rolled my eyes.

According to the Bible I'd read, Jesus was a white man who'd come to Jerusalem and all those places to teach the Jews a lesson. There were a lot of bibles around though, everybody knew that, which was why the South only had the One True Bible and getting caught with one of the other kind was a bad idea. It didn't matter if you were Baptist, Protestant, Catholic or whatever, freedom of religion only went so far before it became treasonous.

"And I guess God told his wives to spread their legs too," Drew laughed. "They were doing a lot of that."

"Well, I hope you locked him up for about a hundred years," I decided. "That kind of talk's just wrong."

"Nah, we didn't arrest him or nothing," Drew shook his head.

"You didn't?"

"Nope," he grinned at me. "We lynched that nigger. His wives got sent back to Utah, they got their own punishments up there for being whores. I guess the Mormons don't like that stuff."

"You hung him? A preacher?" I blinked at Drew in the dim light of the dash and he nodded.

"He wasn't no real preacher anyway," Drew told me. "Not if he was saying that kind of stuff."

"Yeah, that's true," I agreed, but I was pretty shocked to learn they'd killed the man. "Hanging him, though ... How come you didn't just rehabilitate him?"

"He wasn't a slave," Drew shrugged. "Soon as he got arrested the church guys in Utah woulda extradited him back."