I was on the way home from work, the drizzle making the drive nasty. Not unbearable, just not the ideal driving weather, by a long shot. I saw flashers up on the side of the road, so I thought I’d investigate.

It wasn’t the busiest highway in the state at this time of the evening. It was more of a northern route to the next town, some nine miles away. About the only people that used it were the ones headed across the northern part of the state that knew it was a nice shortcut, or the people in the next two towns headed my way and beyond to hit the Walmart Supercenter or the big chain grocery store in the big town to the east or going west and home from them. The big town in question also had a University, so it wasn’t all that little.

Anyway, I pulled over behind the flashing lights to find a small beat up older import. I grabbed my big golf umbrella, jumped out, deployed the water deflecting device and took a few steps toward the vehicle. There was someone digging, I assumed, the spare tire and such out of the trunk and when they turned to look back into the lights to see who was there, I noticed...

There was this girl.

“Can I be of assistance, young lady?”

“No! I do not need your help, mister. I have everything I need right here, and my Daddy taught me how to do this. I don’t need any help and don’t want to be beholden to no one for nothin’. I am just fine.”

“Can I watch, just in case?” I actually wanted to watch. I’m a letch. Sue me. She was cute, short, and built, wearing a wet t-shirt showing her upper body features, and the outline of a nice sized bra, and spandex capris, with mesh cutouts covering about half of them, showing her legs. Nice legs. She was, if anything, the cutest little black girl I’d ever seen. She was in competition to be one of the cutest girls I’d ever seen, regardless of color, white, brown, green, and purple included.

“Knock yourself out, but please don’t come any closer. I’m not what you would call a secure person, and this tire iron would hurt you. Just sayin’.”

“No worries. I’m not a bad guy. I’ll bet all the bad guys say that, too, though, don’t they?” I heard her giggle, even though she was turned away from me, trying to hide the fact that she did so. I watched as she put the jack under the side of the car and started turning the handle. “I’ll just stay back here, under my umbrella, and if there is a...”

She was loosening a lug nut and pushed so hard the car fell off the jack and scared the crap out of her. It made a terrible noise, the crunch of gravel being pushed aside, as it did, and her jumping back away from it put her on her butt with her hands out backwards, holding her back off the dirt on the side of the road.

I approached her and held out my hand. She took it and just before I pulled her up off the ground, I pulled my jacket back to show her...

She gasped.

“Oops, wrong side.” I accidentally showed her my gun. I pulled her up and pulled the other side back showing her my badge.

“Better. We can talk now. What the heck just happened?”

“I’d say, young lady, that the jack may not have been properly placed in that little groove slot jack holder thingamajiggy place under the car. I’m not a mechanic, but that’d be my guess. Here. Hold the umbrella.”

She did, and I was able to put the jack back under, lined up the slot on the jack with the slot on the car, and wound the thing up until the tire was off the ground. It was a back tire, so I set the parking brake inside, then went to work on the lug nuts. She followed me around, holding the umbrella, staying as close as she could so that it would cover both of us. I got the donut on, put the flat tire in the trunk, set the jack on top of it, and took the umbrella from her. I walked her to the door and as she got in, she thanked me.

“I’m sorry for being a snot, officer. I get a lot of harassment for being a little black girl in a predominantly, if not almost entirely white, community, and I’m just not used to people being nice.”

“I apologize for all of them, but do me a favor, and if you ever feel uncomfortable about it, seriously, give me a call.”

I handed her my business card. Charles Calhoun, Wilshire County Sheriff. The card had my picture, my office and cell phone numbers, as well as my email address on it.

“While I will apologize for their actions, miss...” She interrupted me.

“Tamara.”

“OK, then, Tamara. I will apologize for their actions, but if you feel uncomfortable, someone may be breaking the law. Federal law. Civil rights law. You call me if you feel that way and think I should be involved. OK?”

“Yes, sir. This says Sheriff. Is that THE Sheriff, or a Sheriff? Like a deputy sheriff or something.”

“I’m only THE Sheriff of THIS county, Tamara, so it’s not that big of a deal, but yes, I’m the guy that has to kiss babies and shake hands so he gets re-elected every four years and doesn’t get fired. I’ve only done it once, but I plan to keep trying. I like it here.”

“Wow. In that case, it’s Tammy. My friends and all the Sheriffs I know call me Tammy.” She giggled.

I chuckled, openly so she’d know I was impressed with her humor. “OK, Tammy. Just how many Sheriffs do you know?”

“One.”

“Good to know. Look, Tammy, I need to get home and feed my cat. You be careful, OK?”

“Yes, sir...” This time I interrupted her.

“Charlie. You can just call me Charlie, for now. OK?”

“Yes, Charlie. Thank you for your help.” She started her car, reached over and put my card in her purse on the seat next to her, fastened her seatbelt, then waved with her fingers, and took off.

I thought to myself that I should have checked her license and all, just to make sure I was helping one of my own constituents, and maybe I could chase her down and give her a ticket for not using her blinker when she got back on the road, then thought ‘Charlie, you’re just a dirty old man’. I laughed out loud as I was walking back to my truck. Yeah, I probably was. A dirty old man, that is.

The cat was actually fine. He has feeders and a big water dispenser, not to mention more litter box square footage, probably, than any other cat in the state. He’s well taken care of and doesn’t need me around for a week or more, should that happen. When I got home, he proved it. Smokie met me at the door, looked up at me, then went to his chair in the family room and ignored me for the rest of the evening. So much love.

The job of Sheriff is mostly an administrative and supervisory one. An office job, as it were, and as it should be. Old men like me, almost thirty now, shouldn’t be out on the streets and highways and cornfields fighting crime. That should be left to the younger folks. I laugh when I think about that. I got out of the service, came home, and immediately a bunch of friends put my name on the ballot. That was five years ago. Since then I’ve been re-elected once and gotten shot just as many times. I said it is MOSTLY an office job. Not entirely.

Once, a long time ago, out on that very road, I was backing up a roadblock to stop a child abduction from getting out of hand. A parent was involved, but shouldn’t have been, and I ran into some trouble. All the guy wanted to do was get his daughter back, even though a judge told him not to even think about it and served the man papers telling him to stay away from her. Anyway, we got him stopped and cornered, he came out of the car with her in one hand and his gun in the other. I tried to talk him down, but he didn’t like that idea. He had the unmitigated gall to tell me to ‘Shut the f*** up’, and when I spoke again, he drilled me right through the hip with a nine mil. God, I can still remember the pain. That really pissed me off, naturally, so I did what any red-blooded American former Air Force Security Policeman with more expert marksmanship oak leaf clusters than you could shake a stick at would do. I put two forties through his head. Not pretty, but I had to keep the rounds away from the kid. Ralph Wheeler, the deputy closest to him, ran in, grabbed the girl, and kicked the guy’s gun away as he moved over a probably dead suspect.

Jerry Botts called for a couple of ambulances, and I just started saying goodbye. That son of a bitch knew we were wearing body armor and shot just below it on the left side. I had no idea he was that good or that smart. We didn’t know it, I should say. We do now. There is a huge artery running through that area on your body. Femoral artery, I think they call it. In any case, I thought he’d killed me, and I’d bleed out before anyone could stop the bleeding.

He missed it. The artery. All he got was muscle and bone. Lots of each, but I lived, and can walk normally. I don’t run much these days, and probably won’t for another year or more, but I got re-elected, so I didn’t have to go out looking for a job. That election was pretty much in the bag, as they say, after nearly dying saving the girl from her father’s stupidity, but I’d have to shake hands and kiss babies for the next one. People have short memories. That was all a little more than year ago.

A few weeks after meeting Tamara, I was sitting in the office when the phone rang, Lindy letting me know that there was a woman on the line that needed to talk to me. Lindy said she specifically asked for me and had my card in her hands. Tammy, I thought. I hope not, but it probably is.

“Calhoun.”

“Charlie, this is Tammy Brown. We met on the highway a few weeks ago one night. You told me to call you if I thought I was having problems due to a certain factor beyond my control. Do you remember that?”

“Every word of it, Tammy. What happened?”

“I turned down a member of the football team when he asked me to go up to his room and party. He called me a stuck-up little N word, and no, he didn’t say ‘N word’, then he slapped me. He’s been spreading rumors that I’m a prostitute in my spare time.”

“What are you studying?”

“Criminal Science and Psychology. Double major.”

“Wow. If I do all the right things, will you come to work for me? I could use one of those psychological people sometimes.”

“We’ll talk later. I have four more years of school after this one. That shrink thing takes six years, at least.”

“OK. That’s all I can ask.” I got the name of the boy, the names of at least two witnesses, and the assurance that the university police had been involved. “Tammy, I’m going to make some calls and get started on this. Can I call you if I need you for statements and the like? I may be able to use what the school’s police got, but...” She stopped me, mid-sentence.

“Absolutely.” She gave me her number and told me if she didn’t answer, she was in class or at work and she’d return the call immediately, but to leave a message. She also told me I could text her if that would work. She had already put me in her contacts, so it wouldn’t go to a spam call or anything.

“Tammy, I’ll call you back later, OK?”

“Yes, please do that, Charlie.” Click.

I called John Gordon, Chief of the University Police. He told me about the situation and told me he would be happy to give me as much information and help as I wanted, especially if I was going to turn this into a civil rights thing and get the feds involved. He had a sore spot for the individual involved, as well as one of the witnesses. Both had been reported for assault before, both sexual and the violent kind, the suspect more than once, but lawyers had gotten involved and the charges were always dropped

They took pictures of her face, and yea verily, she was just light enough skinned that the slap mark was clearly visible. There were four witnesses, total. Two said it never happened. They were fellow football players, one with the assault charges that had been dropped. The other two, a couple who were walking nearby, described the incident exactly as Tammy had. They were close enough to hear the boy call her a ‘stuck-up nigger’ and saw him slap the little black girl. They didn’t know Tamara Brown personally at the time and had only seen her a few times on campus.

I took the information I had and filed county charges against them for hate crimes. It was a stretch, but I did it. I thought that maybe I could either get them expelled and sent elsewhere, or at least piss someone off enough to actually screw up and expose their biases in public. Once they were filed, they drew the attention of the Feds down in the state capitol, who came to pay us a visit.

An interview, more of a deposition than anything, with all those concerned, brought out enough information that the feds took over and told me they’d handle it. They played an example for me.

“Mr. Walker, can you explain the events of that day for me?”

“What day? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The day you assaulted Miss Tamara Brown and called her a ‘stuck up nigger’.”

“That never happened.”

“I have two witnesses that say it did.”

“I have two that say it didn’t. So what?”

“Our witnesses aren’t your friends and haven’t been accused of assault and have the charges simply disappear after your lawyer spoke with the victims.”

“What does that prove? That stupid spic doesn’t know what happened anyway. Neither does the little Chicano slut that was with him.”

“Let the record show he is referring to the government witnesses, Richard Gutiérrez and Maria Campo, both post-graduate engineering students at the same school.”

“Like I said, stupid spic and the little slut with him.”

“I think we’re done here. Mr. Walker, you are being charged with federal crimes now, and will be tried in federal court in Kansas City. Let your lawyers know that. I will have the Federal Marshal Service serve the appropriate papers. Please don’t leave the country. That was an official demand, by the way, not a request. Do you have a passport?”

Brad Walker’s eyes lit up. “He said the county wouldn’t do shit about that little nigger bitch ratting me out. What do you mean, ‘federal charges’?”

“You are being charged with civil rights violations involving your confrontation with Miss Brown, Mr. Walker. You are facing up to five years in a federal prison. Maybe the one right up the river at Leavenworth. You’re in the ROTC, correct?”

He started to nod.

The dean, who was asked to be there as a witness, stood and said, “No, he’s not. He may have been this morning, but he’s not now. I’ve heard enough to disqualify him from not only that program but from the school itself. Mr. Walker, you might want to call your people, because you are no longer welcome on this campus. Neither are either of your witnesses. I’ll notify our Registrar immediately. You have until nine o’clock tonight to have your belongings off campus. Don’t tell me you can’t. I know you have money and I know you have a truck. Just make it happen, or I’ll provide help. You don’t want that. John, I want him under escort, so he doesn’t do anything stupid. Anything else stupid, is more like it. Make sure the other two, Spencer and Thomas, go with him. They are hereby expelled, too. Nine o’clock, or I remove him.”

The meeting broke up, Walker throwing his shoulders around and acting all big, but he knew he was in trouble. Deep trouble. He was off the campus in plenty of time, as were his friends.

I got a call that night from a cute little girl that lived a way up the road from me.

“Calhoun.”

“Charlie, I heard what happened today. Is it true? Is Brad Walker gone?”

“He’s off the campus, Tammy, but you need to watch over your shoulder. I have no idea where he is. He’s a federal problem now, unless he tries something locally and causes a problem. If he approaches you, please call 911 as soon as you can. Not much I can do, except have him followed, but like I said, I don’t know where he is, and can’t afford the manpower if he’s not misbehaving. I don’t want to wind up violating HIS rights by doing something illegal to keep him away from you. He lives in Illinois. Maybe he went home.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open. Thank you. I thought you were full of poop, Charlie. I thought maybe you were bloviating, as that guy on TV used to say.”

“No, Tammy, I generally do what I say, and say what I do. It’s a curse. My mother and father were pretty hard on me about one thing. That one thing led to the others being pretty easy to keep in line.”

“One thing?”

“Honesty.”

“Oh. Good call on their part. Uhmmm. I ... Uhhhh. Charlie, would you ... Could you ... Uhhh...”

“Stop, Tammy. Just stop. Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Three big breaths then try again.”

I heard her do exactly as I asked her, then giggle. “Charlie, will you take me out to dinner?”

“I’d be honored, but Tammy, are you sure you want that? You do understand that I’m ten years older than you, right?”

“Daddy was twenty years older than my mom. He wasn’t my father. I have no idea who that was, but the man who taught me how to ride a bike and change a flat tire was twenty years older than my mom. They never got married. I’m glad. His sister got all of his money and the house and everything when Mom killed him.”

“WHAT?”

“Yes, it’s not that bad. When Mom was the other woman, it was OK, but when she found out she was the other woman, she kind of lost it. That was about two years ago. Aunt Shelley, Daddy’s little sister, helped me finish high school then come up here. Thank God. Life back home was a bit sketchy. Mom was white, Charlie. Daddy was a big man and black as the ace of spades. I was told that my father was a little black guy, but I never met him. Daddy told me he died in a failed robbery in Columbia. In any case, you aren’t that old. I’m eighteen for another month. That makes you, what, twenty-eight?”

“Yeah, almost twenty-nine. Next month. The twenty-second.”

“Twentieth. I’m less than ten years younger than you, so no problem. I asked around and made sure you weren’t otherwise attached. I hope my information was right.”

“It was. I’m as single as I can possibly be. I was on a date a couple of months ago. That kind of went shiny side down, if you get that.”

“I do, but may I ask why?”

“How much do you know about me, Tammy?”

“You are twenty-eight, the Sheriff of Wilshire County, quite good looking, a bit too tall for someone the likes of me, and drive a nice truck. One other thing. You’re honest, as far as I can tell. You told me you’d do something if I reported it, Charlie. I did, you did, and things happened. That’s huge to me.”

“OK. We’ll talk about the rest when? I’ll need to know where to pick you up and when you’d like me to do that.”

“I live in Donson, work at the mini-mart here Sunday through Thursday until they close at nine, and go to school every day, mornings Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and both mornings and afternoons on Tuesday and Thursday.”

“So, Friday and Saturday nights would be good for you?”

“Very good.”

“Text me your address. I’ll pick you up at six Friday evening and come back here for dinner. Then that evening, you, if you want to do it again, will tell me what time to pick you up on Saturday, and what our plans will be. I think that would be fair. If this weekend, we find we are incompatible, we can part as friends. Two days should tell us if we have anything in common. Agreed?”

“Totally. I really like the way you operate, Charlie. How extravagant can things get on Saturday?”

“I’m not an extravagant guy, Tammy. What are you getting at?”

“Mini-golf and Buster’s Burgers in St. John.”

“Can do easy. Wear a dress and heels on Friday, young lady. Miniature golf and hamburgers will NOT be on the menu that night.”

“You’ve got it, Charlie. Thank you. Really. I’d better let you get back to work. You do realize Friday is only two days away, right?”

“Uhmmmm. Yeah, of course. Uhhh. Sure, I do. Yes.”

“I may have just caught Charlie Calhoun in his first untruth.” She giggled.

“Don’t tell anyone or I’ll go all sheriff on you and lock you in the dungeon. Nothing worse than a tattle-tale.” I’m sure she heard me chuckle.

“No worries. Your secret is safe with me. Bye, Charlie. See you at six on Friday.” Click. My phone dinged indicating an incoming text.

“433 n main, apt b, donson cu then. thx, charlie.”

The next two days were a blur. I couldn’t believe this little doll asked me out. To be honest, she was easily the prettiest girl that had ever sat in my car. I’m not blowing smoke here, but in the last five years before that, there had been quite a few pretty girls. Not this car. The car in question was only six months old. Only two or three in this car, but my point is ... She’s a living doll.

My biggest problem was the impropriety of a sheriff dating a woman he met on the job, but I self-advised. Self-advising is a lot like self-medicating or self-lawyering. Not always the right answer, but cheap, and no one else has to know. I was telling said self that I changed her tire. I didn’t arrest her for shoplifting and promise her a short jail term if she’d give me a blow job. I changed her tire. No mention of any blow jobs at all. Myself said ‘no problem’. All I had to do now was convince the four county commissioners, should they question it. In our jurisdiction, once I was elected, they were my supervisors. One was an uncle in law of a third cousin or some such, but he wouldn’t take his shoe off to help anyone but himself, soooo ... Never mind the details.

Here’s the kicker. She could have me by the balls. All she’d have to do is lie once, and my life, my career, my ranch, my friends, all gone. Wouldn’t that suck? Of course, any woman could do that to any man, and at any time. Just ask that supreme court guy. Kavanaugh? Yeah. Suckage can happen to anyone at any time. Honesty is the best policy. Always, and for all concerned.

Friday night at five thirty I was as nervous as a teenager getting ready for his first date. Why? ‘WHY?’ I asked myself. She’s young, and very pretty, yes, I understand that, but why am I nervous? I wasn’t this nervous when a friend set me up with the state runner up for the Miss America contest. She was drop dead gorgeous. She’s never been in my car, if you’re wondering about my earlier diatribe. As a matter of fact, she never made it to my house, either. She was an absolute ... She was a ‘B’ word. Plain and simple. Extremely gorgeous, and she knew it, AND wanted everyone else to know as well. Not my cup of tea, if you will. I’m sure she’ll be a trophy wife before she dies. She’s one of those that will still be a knockout at sixty, and three years later, ackkk.

Where was I? Nervous. Then it was too late. I pulled up to the duplex where she lived. Nice place. I walked up the sidewalk without tripping and rang the doorbell. The door opened. Holy shit! Tamara Brown was an absolute wonder in a blue silk shirtdress and black stiletto sandals. She was wearing off black hose. The dress was so short, and the heels so high, at least four inches, that her legs looked like they went on forever. That would have been impossible, since she was only about five feet high, barefooted, but still, she was gorgeous. A living doll, I thought before. Now I know it. Tammy Brown was a living doll.

“Hi, Charlie. You found me.”

“God, yes, I found you! Lucky me. Tammy, you’re beautiful. Blue really ... You really ... You look ... Yes. You look really good in blue, really. Stop stammering, Charlie!” I laughed as she giggled.

She put her arms out, looking for a hug, so I gave her one. I held it for a while, too. I wanted her to know just how entranced I was with her.

“Thank you for this. If I told you, Charlie, that once I got over the initial fear when you pulled up that I heard something in your voice that night that made me feel good, what would you say?”

“Thank you. What else can I say? Tammy, I’m not a bad guy. You’ll hear that I am, but I’m not. I’m very conservative, normally very shy, and very ... How can I say this and have you believe it? I’m very inexperienced with women. I date. I date a lot. I like women. I don’t want to boink. I don’t want to have casual sex. I’m turning red, aren’t I?” She nodded. “What I would say is that, similarly, I have been thinking about you.”

“Love at first sight?”

“Oh, Jesus, no! Like at first sight. Maybe love after first date. Let’s try it that way, OK?”

“Deal. Oh, and I’ve been talking to him about you.”

“Talking to who?”

“Jesus.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Literally. Think about that while you are driving me to whatever establishment you are trying to seduce me in.”

“Good point,” I said, then took her into the city and to a little Italian place I loved. I loved it alone, or with guy friends, just as much as I loved it with a date, let me tell you. It was a great little mom and pop place in an old house on the corner in an old Italian neighborhood.

I poured her a glass of Prosecco.

“Charlie, you know...”

“I know you’re with me, and I’m pouring you a glass of wine. If you don’t want it, don’t drink it, but don’t tell me you’re too young, unless you think you’re too young to share a glass of wine with me.”

“Oh. You’re going to do the whole ‘adult’ thing on me aren’t you.” She air quoted the word ‘adult’.

“Yeah. Is that an issue? I can call a babysitter and leave you home with them next time we have a date, if that’s more...” I started laughing.

She slapped my hand. “Stop. I’ve never been treated like this. Like an adult. In public. I appreciate it. Sorry about your hand.”

“It’s not bleeding too badly. I’ll heal. Seriously, Tammy, it’s just a glass of sparkling wine. If you don’t drink or are afraid I’ll sully your virtue after getting you toasted, just leave it sit.”

“Not on your life, Charlie.” She took a very small sip. “This is good. Prosecco, huh?”

“Yeah. Chianti is popular in Italian restaurants, but I don’t care for it. Want a glass of that, instead?”

“You don’t like it?” I shook my head. She laughed and said, “I doubt I will then. I don’t like most wine. Especially the dry, spelled ‘pucker on this’ wine. This isn’t. Is Chianti?”

“Most people say so.”

“No thank you. I like this. You like this. I like you...” I interrupted her.

“And I like you. I hope that’s OK.”

“Me, too. Yes, it is, I mean. Damn, now I can’t talk straight,” she said, smiling and shaking her head.

“Good. It’s not just me.”

We had a great time just talking. There was a lot of back and forth, her telling me more about her Daddy and her mom and how Mom lost it at the end. I told her about the ranch, my parents going on a safari and never making it home. She asked, so I shared. My father tried to protect my mother as a rhinoceros charged them. The beast drove through both of them, right into the vehicle they were next to, basically eviscerating both of them and flipping them both back up over its head. It was gory beyond comprehension. The Kenyan authorities sent the pictures and death certificates back to Dad’s lawyers. A woman in the firm took me into a conference room and explained the situation.

“No, Tammy, I haven’t seen those pictures. I don’t think I want to. Ever.”

“That tells me something, Charlie. It really does. When I know what it is, I’ll share. Until then, just know it tells me something about you.”

“That I’m afraid to look at the bloody mess?”

“Quite the opposite. I’ll tell you when I can explain it. Let it go. Please. I can’t believe you had to go through that. When was it?”

“The year after I got home. I was the sheriff of Wilshire County. I wanted to use my newfound authority to go kill a rhino. Yeah, I know. Hopeless.”

“Brave, willing to avenge, courageous, and maybe a bit silly, but not hopeless. I’m sorry you had to go through that. It’s terrible.”

“Not much worse than having your mother kill the guy that taught you how to ride a bike.”

“True. Let’s stop trying to one up each other, OK? I’m running out of fodder, and yours are a bit over the top.”

I agreed. “Good idea. Let’s talk about something more civil.”

“Charlie, I want you to take me to St. John tomorrow. I do. I want to spend the day. Walking, talking, shopping, mini golf, dinner, I don’t care, but I need more time with you. Can we do that?”

“Yes. This is what I was talking about, Tammy. I want that. Would noon be OK? I can have you home at a decent hour so you can catch up on your homework. I mean, you need to do it sometime, and with work and school, and me pestering you, you need book time.” She smiled and nodded.

We sat through another bottle of wine and conversation, then I took her home. We had been at Mama Luci’s for four hours.

When we arrived, she invited me in and told me not to be afraid. Her roommate was probably out, but if not, she wouldn’t bite. I followed her in, expecting her to change and all. She offered me a beer, or a drink of a few different sorts. I took her up on a beer, then we sat on the couch.

“There really is something, Charlie. I hope you think so, but I’m looking forward to later.”

“Later? Why?”

“I was hoping you would kiss me goodnight.”

“I’ll take care of that when it’s time. I just want to sit here and look at you for a bit. You’re a pretty girl, Tammy. I hope you don’t mind me admiring that fact.”