Chapter 1

God damn, it's hot in Texas, especially in late July. Shit, it was my day off too, but that didn't mean a damned thing to Haywire Gibson, the good for nothing son-of-a-bitch.

Nobody who saw the fracas had any idea what he was doing drunk on Sunday afternoon, or why he was mad at Billy Jenkins. It didn't signify with Haywire though and I'm sure he thought he had a good reason to shoot Billy Joe Stephens right square in the ass with a twelve-gauge. Lucky for Billy Joe it was loaded with birdshot.

Even though it didn't kill Billy Joe, it still made a mess of his poor ass and it took off one of his nuts too. It was assault with a deadly, at the very least, and now here I am out in the hot part of the day trying to find the drunk shitass.

They said he took off running towards the woods out behind the First Baptist Church. I don't know why he couldn't have hauled ass in his pickup like any normal drunk would have. He wasn't a bit shy about driving it to the church to shoot Billy Joe in the first place, but since the dipshit had left running I had to act like I was tracking him.

I've got nobody to blame but myself. I knew damned well better than to let Horace Johnson talk me into taking over as High Sheriff for John Darkwell.

John was doing a pretty good job until Big Homer Horton broke his neck one night. See, Big Homer came home early from a coon hunt and caught John bouncing his bony ass between Sadie's thighs. Sadie being Big Homer's fat wife.

It ain't true things like that are legal in Texas, but the jury let Big Homer off scot-free anyway. Worst thing about the whole mess was I had to arrest Big Homer again not three hours after I turned him loose.

He went straight home and whupped Sadie's ass good and proper with his belt. A waste of time is what it was - cause I knew good and well the next jury would let Homer off too. What kind of country would it be if a man couldn't whup his wife for giving his pussy away. It only made sense if they were gonna let Homer off for killing Horace they sure weren't going to lock him up for whipping his wife.

No help for it though, I gotta at least act like I'm trying to find that damned Haywire before it gets dark. At least I won't have to bother with his old truck. Monroe didn't sound like he was drunk yet when I called him at the junk and impound yard, and he swore he'd come tow the culprit's truck off before he got started on his next bottle.

Sure enough, I could see a boot heel print every now and then on the way to the edge of the woods and I even spied the empty shotgun shells lying in the grass where Haywire let 'em fall when he reloaded his double barrel. Come to think of it - I might should leave off trying to slow trail Haywire.

I went as far as the first pine tree and broke off a little limb, then I headed back to my car. After stripping off the pine needles I picked up the spent shells by sticking each end of the forked branch up in their empty ends. Maybe it would look like I knew what I was doing to the bystanders. With probably twelve people seein' the shootin' I didn't really think I needed any evidence, but I'd take them with me anyway.

"Did you find him Sheriff?" Pastor Franklin asked, as I came walking back toward the church.

"Naw, he headed out through the pines."

"Aren't you going to track him down?" he asked.

"If you feel like trying to slip up on Haywire in broad daylight with him totin' a twelve gauge double barrel Pastor Franklin you go right ahead. Make a citizen's arrest when you find him. I don't guess you'd mind catchin' an early bus to Heaven, but I'm not so sure of my relationship with the Lord as you must be. I'll pick Haywire up later, preferably when he don't have that Greener so close to hand."

I left the preacher spittin' and sputterin' and got in the prowl car. I know I didn't do all that well in high school, but even I knew better than to follow a drunk with a loaded shotgun into the woods. Besides, it was hot outside I tell ya'.

I knew good and well I'd find Haywire at his house later on tonight. It wasn't over a mile and a half to it from the church, not the way Haywire went anyway.

Bout three AM that night I drove nearly to Haywire's rundown little house. I knew his dogs would raise a ruckus when I slipped up there, but they were chained and I figured he'd be too drunk to notice by now. I was creeping around to the back door when I saw a shadow behind me. Someone was sneakin' up between me and the front porch light.

I turned around just in time to keep from being walloped on the head with a cast iron skillet. I wasn't fast enough to miss out on the whole lick though, it hit me right on the shoulder. Luckily I caught the wrists that were swinging it before they could try again.

"Ow, dammit, Sarah Jean, that hurt!"

"Well what'dya expect when you come sneakin' around in the night?" she asked.

"I expected to catch Haywire drunk."

"He's drunk all right. What you want with daddy?" she asked.

"I want to arrest him. He shot Billy Joe Jenkins in the ass after church let out today," I said, explaining.

It didn't help a bit. I did manage to hold both her wrists with one hand and cover her mouth with the other before she could scream loud enough to wake up Haywire or her sister Darla Faye. She struggled a lot, but I pinched her nose closed too and held on til she fainted.

I cuffed her when she passed out and then carried her out to my car and put her in the trunk after puttin' some duct tape over her mouth so she couldn't holler. It ain't as bad as it sounds, really. We've got the trunk fixed up to hold a prisoner without them being able to hurt themselves. If they're drunk enough to get picked up there's no sense lettin' them puke in the back seat.

After I had Sarah Jean situated I went back for Haywire. If he hadn't woke up by now he wasn't gonna before tomorrow. I found him, dead drunk, in his bed. I had Haywire in the trunk and Sarah Jean standing by the car in a few minutes. I even took the duct tape off without making her squeal. That don't mean she didn't squiggle and squirm and try to get away the whole time.

"Aren't you gonna take these cuffs off me?" she asked, after the duct tape was gone.

"Later," I said, while I took a good look at her.

Sarah Jean was damned good looking to be one of Haywire's descendants and I always figured there'd been a hired hand out by the wood pile giving Haywire some help he might not have thought he really needed.