The Shining Badge (25 page)

A New York Yankee Bites the Dust

Somehow Jenny was able over the next week to put at least the most agonizing memories of Kermit Bing aside. Deep down she knew she would never forget him, but knowing that life must go on, she buried herself in her job and found solace in doing what many had said she could not. Being a sheriff was not what she had expected, but every day, almost every hour, she was learning. She had a quick, retentive mind, and once she learned something she held on to it as tenaciously as a snapping turtle.

One thing that helped her through was her attention to Jamie Varek. She had formed the habit of stopping by and often took her a small gift. Late one Thursday afternoon she stopped by on her way home. It was a lovely autumn day, and she had really no desire to go home and to sit staring at the walls.

“Jenny—Jenny, what’d you bring me?”

Jenny stopped and knelt down, laughing as the girl came sailing out of the house and down the porch, followed by Clay. She caught her up in a hug and said, “What makes you think I brought you anything?”

“You always do. What did you bring me?”

Clay had come to smile down at the pair. “That’s not polite. You’re not supposed to ask for presents.”

Jamie looked up and frowned. “I want presents,” she said distinctly.

“You’re going to grow up into a modern woman, Jamie,” Clay said, smiling. “Don’t pay any attention to her, Sheriff.”

“But I did bring her something. You’ll like it too,” she said, a mischievous light dancing in her eyes. She turned and went back to the car and came back with a paper sack. “Come on up on the porch, and I’ll show you what I brought.” She ascended the steps, followed by Clay, and all the time Jamie was demanding to know what was in the sack. Sitting down on the swing, she lifted Jamie up beside her while Clay stood watching, a smile on his lips.

Opening the sack, Jenny pulled out a book and said, “Look, do you know who this is?”

“No. Little girl.”

“That’s Shirley Temple. And this is a paper doll book.”

“Pretty little girl.”

“Yes, she is a pretty little girl. I’ll take you to see her in a movie some time, but this is what’s called a
paper doll.
See, here’s Shirley and look at all these pages. They are different dresses and outfits you can put on her. You have to cut them out, and I brought you a special pair of scissors.” Fishing down into the sack, she pulled forth a pair of scissors with rounded ends small enough to fit Jamie’s hands. “Look, I’ll show you how to cut one out. You must be very careful. You see these flaps? That’s what holds them on.”

Clay Varek stood watching as the two played with the dolls. He pulled up a cane-bottomed chair, sat down, and tilted it back. The sight pleased him, and he finally said, “I don’t know what Jamie and I would do without you.”

“Well, now you’ve got paper dolls to cut out.”

“Me cut out dolls! I don’t think so.”

“That’s what daddies have to do. My dad did when I was no bigger than Jamie here, and Hannah said he did it for her too.”

Clay grinned broadly. “Well, if a medal-of-honor man can cut out a paper doll, I guess I can too.” He looked up at the
sky and said, “It’s almost dark. I’ve cooked too much supper. Stay and eat with us.”

“Oh, I’d better not.”

“Well, I don’t doubt you’d get better grub at home, but Jamie would like for you to stay. Wouldn’t you, Jamie?”

Jamie reached up and caught at Jenny. “Yes, stay and we’ll play dolls.”

“Well, all right,” Jenny said. “But I’ll set the table and wash the dishes.”

****

Jenny had intended to go home after the supper, which had been surprisingly good. Clay had fried pork chops and boiled potatoes and had made biscuits. Jenny had bragged on the food, and Clay had shook his head. “Well, it’s all I know how. We eat a pretty steady diet of this.”

“I’ll come by and make you a squash pie,” Jenny said and smiled. She gave in to Jamie when the little girl demanded that she cut out more paper dolls.

Finally the child’s eyes grew heavy, and Clay said, “Time for you to go to bed. Come along.”

“Oh, let me put her in bed!” Jenny offered. She rose up, lifted Jamie, and for the next thirty minutes had a wonderful time brushing the girl’s shiny hair, putting her pajamas on, and plunking her into bed. When Jamie had demanded a story, Clay had come in and leaned in the door listening as Jenny told the story of the three bears. Finally Jamie dropped off to sleep, and the two left the room. Clay left the door slightly open, and the two went back into the kitchen. “How about a cup of coffee?”

“All right. Then let’s get outside and sit on the porch.”

They had their coffee, sat on the porch, and for a time they did not talk. Finally Clay said, “Let’s go down to the pond. I want to show you something.”

“All right.”

The two made their way to the back of the house, where
a rather large pond caught the moon that had risen, a huge silver disk in the sky. “Look, they’re still out there.”

Jenny looked out and saw a duck swimming across the pond followed by a flotilla of ducklings. “Oh, aren’t they sweet!” she said.

“I bet they’d be delicious,” Clay said with a straight face.

Jenny turned. “How can you say such a thing? They’re so cute.”

“A calf’s cute too, but I haven’t noticed you turning down any veal.”

“That’s different.” They had had this argument before, Jenny protesting that she couldn’t eat deer meat because deer were so beautiful.

They stood there for a moment and then a strange-looking bird came out. It made an odd cry, and Jenny said, “What in the world kind of bird is that?”

“Don’t know. He comes out late in the afternoon or real early in the morning. Listen to him. It sounds like he’s saying, ‘Get out! Get out!’ I just call him the ‘Get Out Bird.’ ”

“I’ll bet Clint would know what kind it is.”

“Probably would. I think he knows every bird and animal in this country. Want to walk around the pond?”

“All right.”

They moved around the pond, not getting far from the house in case Jamie woke up. Jenny finally turned to him and said, “I’ve got to get home.”

“It’s good you came by,” Clay said. He hesitated, then said, “I know you still think about Kermit.”

“Yes, besides my mother’s death, it was one of the saddest things that ever happened to me.”

The moonlight made a silver track on the pond, and it reflected on Clay’s face. Jenny watched him as he grew thoughtful. “Sad things come to us. There’s no avoiding them. I heard a preacher once quote a verse that said, ‘Man’s born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.’ ”

“Where’s that in the Bible?”

“I don’t know. It’s true, though.”

“I suppose it is.”

“One time I was on a job back in Chicago. We were doing a stakeout in a rough part of town. I saw a note somebody had left under a rock outside of a tenement. I picked it up and read it. I’ve never forgotten it.”

“What’d it say, Clay?”

“It said, ‘I just couldn’t come—I hope you will forgive me.’ ”

“That’s all? No signature?”

“No. I’ve often thought about that note. Who wrote it? I’ve wondered if the two ever got together.”

“It is sad. You feel sadness more than most people, Clay. I can sense it in you.”

Clay tried to smile. “Well, I feel like an orphan. I’m too young to die and too old to play.”

Jenny put her hand on his arm. “You’re not too old to play. You’re still a young man. You’ve got Jamie, and you can do many things.”

Clay was very conscious of her hand on his arm. With his other hand, he put his hand over hers. Her hand was warm, and he squeezed it, saying, “You’re a comfort, Jennifer.”

Suddenly Jenny felt a discomfort. This man puzzled her. He was an enigma, and she could not understand her own feelings about him. “I’ve got to go,” she said, pulling her hand away.

The two walked back to the house, and when she left, he called out, “As they say in these parts, don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t. Come to supper tomorrow night—it’s my birthday—and bring Jamie.”

“We’ll be there.”

****

By the time Jenny had gotten down to breakfast, the three babies were all crying as if their hearts would break. Missouri
was trying to finish breakfast, and the others were trying to pacify the three.

“These are three of the stubbornest babies I ever saw in my life,” Lewis said. He was holding Michael while Hannah held Samuel, and Clint was tossing Temple up in the air trying to catch his attention. All to no avail. “Stubborn as blue-nosed mules,” Lewis said, shaking his head. He glanced slyly at Missouri, who was hurrying to put breakfast on the table. “That’s the Ramey blood in them,” he said, winking at Jenny. “All of us Winslows have been nice, easygoing folks. Never impatient like these monsters.”

As he had known would happen, Missouri’s eyes suddenly flashed, and she came over and grabbed Lewis by the hair. “Don’t you talk that way about these babies, poor little things! They’re just hungry, and if I ever saw a stubborn man in my life, you’re it! Now, you sit down and let me start feeding these three.” She gathered up Temple and Michael and headed off for the living room, leaving Samuel behind. Jenny grabbed Sam and sat down and tucked the tip of her little finger in his mouth. He clamped down on it, and she laughed. “You bite like a turtle.”

“Getting breakfast and keeping those three fed is more than any human should have to do,” Clint said.

Kat came scurrying in and sat down, demanding food at once. Lewis asked the blessing; then Kat began peppering Hannah with questions. “What does it feel like to have a baby kicking around on the inside of you, Hannah?”

Hannah flushed and said crossly, “Don’t talk about such things!”

Kat stuffed her mouth full with a huge bite of toast smeared with apple butter, chewed it, and mumbled, “Why not?”

“Because it’s not proper.”

“Well, how am I gonna know if you don’t tell me anything?”

“You’ll find out when you’re older.”

Kat glared at her. “That’s what everybody always tells me. I’m old enough now!”

“Well, you wait until after breakfast at least, and then you can talk to me. Or better still, talk to Ma. She knows more about babies than anybody I know.”

“Doris Hartman thinks the stork brings babies,” Kat scoffed. “I’ve tried to tell her different, but she doesn’t want to listen.”

“I think you ought to leave her alone,” Hannah said quickly. “That’s a family matter.”

“She thinks the tooth fairy leaves money under your pillow. And she’s twelve years old. She ought to know better than that. I’ve tried to tell her different, but she won’t listen.”

Jenny listened to Kat with amusement. She wondered what in the world the young girl would be like when she was completely grown if she continued to be so outspoken. She got up after finishing breakfast, kissed Samuel, and handed him to Hannah, then stopped long enough to smooth her father’s hair back from his forehead. “I’ll be in early tonight.”

“Well, I hope so,” Lewis smiled, “I know Missouri has a special birthday supper planned for you.”

She looked back at Hannah, saying, “I asked Clay to bring Jamie over to supper tonight.”

“Good,” Hannah said. “I know he gets lonely. I don’t see how a man can take care of a child like that all by himself.”

“He seems to do very well. She’s healthy and happy.”

“Wonder why he don’t get married? Then he’d have somebody to take care of Jamie,” Kat spoke up. “I’ll tell him tonight when he comes that’s what he oughta do.”

“You keep quiet, Kat!” Jenny snapped. “That’s his business, not yours.”

Leaving the house, Jenny drove to work, and as soon as she walked into the office, Ruby said, “Bad news.” She held up a newspaper, and walking over, Jenny took it. It was a copy of
The Daily Standard.
The headline said blatantly, “Sheriff Brings Death To Deputy.”

Anger flashed through Jenny, and she began to read the article. It basically said that she was responsible for Kermit Bing’s death, and for nearly half a page went on talking about her inability to serve the county properly and calling for her resignation.

“Can’t you sue that idiot?” Ruby demanded.

“I don’t think so. There’s no law against criticizing a public official.” Jenny was humiliated by the article, but she had learned that
The Daily Standard
could be depended on to point out her faults and to invent them when they did not exist. Finally she merely said, “Well, you can’t stop a dog from yapping, so let’s get on with our work.”

The two women started their day, and about ten o’clock the door opened and a small man walked in and said loudly, “I’m lookin’ for Sheriff Winslow. I guess you’re her.”

The man had a northern accent, Jenny recognized at once. She had grown accustomed to the softness and the rather slow pace of southern speech, and this man’s accent, as well as his clothes, identified him as being from the North. “I’m Sheriff Winslow.”

“I’m Saul Greenberg, Sheriff. I’d like to have an interview with you. I’m with
The Chicago Tribune.
”

“You came all the way from Chicago to interview me?”

Greenberg was a sharp-faced man with quick eyes that looked Jenny up and down before answering. He was one of those men, Jenny recognized, that barely ever looked higher than a woman’s chin. She disliked him immediately but was determined to be polite. “Come back to my office.”

“Right you are, Sheriff.”

Jenny led him back to the office, and Greenberg took a seat as Jenny seated herself behind the desk. “I’m doing a series of articles about the South.” He grinned rather unpleasantly. “I think a female sheriff’s about as unusual as common sense around this place.”

Jenny said, “You have five minutes, Mr. Greenberg.”

Greenberg’s eyes narrowed. “Five minutes! That’s not much.”

“It took you a few seconds to say that. You can subtract that from the five.”

“Wait a minute, Sheriff. You’re not being cooperative.”

“Ask your questions.”

Greenberg stared at her, antagonism plain on his face. “I read the article in the paper yesterday. It says you practically got one of your deputies killed through negligence. How do you answer that?”