Sunrise Crossing. Jodi Thomas

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       CHAPTER FOUR

      DEPUTY FIFTH WEATHERS rushed into the county offices on Main Street in Crossroads, Texas, as if he were still running offensive tackle for the Texas Longhorns.

      Grinning, he realized it had been four years since he’d graduated. He was forty pounds leaner and long past talking about his football days, but now and then he yearned to run with the crowds roaring once more.

      He headed straight for the sheriff’s office. All hell was about to hit and he hadn’t even had breakfast.

      He’d overslept, again, and that was something Sheriff Brigman thought should be a hanging offense. Plus, even though he’d worked until long after midnight, the report due today still wasn’t done.

      Pearly, the county’s receptionist and secretary, who sat just right of the main entrance, always jumped when Fifth walked past. She was a thin, little woman who’d probably blow away if he sneezed, and in the two years he’d been working with the sheriff, she’d never smiled at him.

      The first six months he’d been in town she’d asked weekly when he planned to leave. Lately, the question hung silently between them like last year’s Christmas tinsel caught on a slow-moving fan, fluttering silently as it circled.

      He nodded at her.

      At six feet seven inches, Deputy Weathers wasn’t likely to sneak up on Pearly, but she frowned like she could see doomsday coming when his shadow blocked the sun.

      “There you are,” she snapped. “The sheriff’s looking for you.”

      Fifth moved closer to her massive desk. If he got any nearer than five feet, it always made Pearly start to fiddle with her shawl fringe like she planned to unknit the entire thing if he came within touching distance.

      “You all right, Miss Pearly?” he said in a tone he hoped sounded more kind than threatening.

      “I’m fine,” she snapped. “You just startled me. Someone should have put a brick on your head ten years ago, Deputy Weathers.”

      Fifth gave up any attempt at conversation and headed toward the sheriff’s office. He couldn’t help it if his father had cursed him with height and his mother hadn’t been able to think of a name for her fifth son, so she’d just called him a number. Everyone had crazy families. His was simply supersized.

      “Sheriff Brigman is not in there,” Pearly announced, about the time he reached the door. “He’s out on the Kirkland Ranch. Said to bring the missing-persons flyers for the past month and maps of the county. Wants your help as soon as possible, so I’d suggest you start backtracking all the way to your car.”

      Fifth thought of asking her why she hadn’t let him know right away. She could have radioed the cruiser he drove, called his cell or dialed the bed-and-breakfast where he’d overslept this morning. But he knew what Pearly’s answer would be if he asked: she always said that she’d been about to. The woman’s about to list would last her into the hereafter.

      He turned and walked back past her desk, trying not to notice how she leaned away like he’d accidentally knock her down on his way out.

      A few minutes later he climbed into his cruiser, wondering why some people treated men over six-six like they were alien invaders. Men who were six-four were apparently fine, but grow a few more inches and you’re out of the normal zone. It also didn’t help that deputies in Texas wore boots and Stetsons. That added another three or four inches.

      When he’d played football in college, his height hadn’t been a problem. But now anyone lower by a foot seemed to think he might just accidentally bop them on the head. He’d made it through the academy and had served two years as a deputy without accidentally killing anyone.

      As he drove toward the Double K Ranch that had been in the Kirkland family over a hundred years, Fifth Weathers tried to relax. He’d been in Crossroads since Sheriff Brigman was shot and almost killed two years ago.

      At first it had been just a job, a chance to step out of a big office and work with a sheriff everyone in Texas respected. But lately, it was more than that. He was starting to care about the people. He’d matured from a green rookie looking for excitement to a seasoned officer who hoped never to have to pull his weapon again.

      That is, if shooting a snake counted as a first time.

      For the most part, the folks in the county were good, honest citizens who loved to tease him once they figured out he was on the shy side. The grocer offered to stack his daughters if Fifth would take both of them out. The Franklin sisters, who ran the bed-and-breakfast, were always trying to match him up with one of their relatives because they claimed the family tree could use the height. And from what he’d seen, Franklins tended to grow out instead of up.

      Fifth wouldn’t have minded having a date. It had been a while. But even in college, when girls flocked around athletes, he hadn’t gone out much. He’d always felt awkward and never knew the right thing to say.

      He blamed his mother for his awkwardness around women. You’d think with a dozen pregnancies she could have popped out one girl so her sons could learn to relate.

      When he turned onto Kirkland land, Fifth put his problems aside and was all business. If the sheriff was here, there must be something wrong. Staten Kirkland was a good man who ran his ranch like a small kingdom. He wouldn’t be calling the law in on something minor.

      Dan Brigman was on the porch talking to the rancher. All signs that Brigman had taken four bullets in an ambush were gone: the sheriff looked fit and strong; his hair had grayed to the color of steel, and his eyes always seemed to look right into the heart of folks. Fifth could think of no better goal than to model his career after this legend of a man.

      “About time you arrived,” Dan said with a hint of a smile that told Fifth he wasn’t in any serious trouble this time.

      “Sorry, sir. I overslept.” Fifth climbed the steps and offered his hand to Kirkland.

      Dan nodded once. “I thought you might when I passed the office around midnight and saw the lights still on.”

      “You’re working the kid too hard,” Kirkland said as he shook Fifth’s hand. “Come on inside, Deputy. We’ve got coffee and cinnamon rolls waiting. I need to show Dan the map in my office before we start planning.”

      “Thanks,” Fifth answered politely, grateful that he didn’t have to admit that right now he was far more interested in the rolls and coffee than looking at any map. Caffeine and sugar should wake him up.

      Fifth followed the two men through the massive double doors of the Kirkland headquarters as they talked about the weather. The sound of their boots thumping across the hardwood floor blended СКАЧАТЬ