We hired back the God Damn Sheriff. And I said it was a mistake at the time. Probably not a loud as was called for, but I said a few words. But then, he kinda worked on me a little.
You know, the Sheriff, he knows you. Probably calls you by your first name. Probably can half know just about anyone in town if you gave him one or two of your kin as a lead. But really, I guess,
you know the Sheriff. And he's steady. He ain't a flashy type with a pearl snap and felt hat. Wranglers starched all to hell with his dancin' boots on in the Cafe round noontime.
No.
This man wears his straw Resistol Cattleman every day. It ain't as clean as the day he bought it, but its hard to tell otherwise unless you're close. And if its close, he's probably holdin' it in his hands workin on a crease in the brim with some bad news. When he does that, you can see that his hair is not thick anymore and that the day will soon come when there's less hair than can reasonably be maintained but for a working man's pride. But he's not prone to changing it, the hair or the hat.
Probably takes his meals and coffee at his desk working all hours and people know that.
Probably that wife of his had different thoughts at some point or another. Thought they might leave fer Fort Worth or some such other big town with big city police problems. But the Sheriff wanted to stay. Where the prairies and the ranches loved him and there wasn't a soul that thought an ill thought for more than a minute, even after a speeding ticket or stern rebuke. For there had to be some such sort of law and order, and they knew the rules.
Sheriff never did believe much in change, he had a deputy or two throughout the years. He always wrote up the most glowing review, cause they logged a lot of hours and they did what he told as far as there inherent capacity did allow. And he he had a genuine eff up or two along the way, but he wouldn't say so and nobody else did too loud around the Sheriff. But that old Sheriff, he had the most constant blue eyes, I ever seen. When I first saw them they told me hard work and genuine truth. Later I saw a humility and a kind of earnest steady.
Since these murders... Well. I suppose I'd say that something changed in that man's eyes. It seemed like he had that hat out more. That it was still gently worked by his quiet, strong hands. Seems like people been seeing those edges fray up. Don't know if it was always there, or people just have more cause to see it now.
But, like I said with the hat.
You do start to see things. Like his hair or the way that his stayin inside has turned the color off on his skin. Like a sickly person on an old black and white TV. And I see that time and circumstance may have touched him, and not just around the edges. I looked in those blue eyes and I saw some hurt. Maybe a half a dose of scared.
Old men see things as they really are.
Maybe he started seein what his wife had or maybe not. Maybe he started seein why he hadn't ever stopped to look down and examine his self in his late age. Well, the folks started doing it for him, and I figure he good and well started lookin' hard his own self.
There ain't too many others want to run for Sheriff, but I reckon they'll start makin there names known to the cattlemen. I reckon they will anyways. And its sad seeing a man go along this way, comin across his Earthly body and knowin, just knowin' that it ain't gonna make it a hell of a lot more Sundays.
