Mary Sullivan - No Ordinary Sheriff

Cash spun the desk chair around to look at Austin in the cell.

“Jamie, at the moment I’m sitting in my office. I just put a twelve-year-old kid in the jail cell. His father’s dead and his mom’s useless.”

Austin stirred, mumbled something, then settled.

“Count yourself lucky you’ve got two loving parents who care enough to set limits.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Cash sighed. “I’m not. This kid is raising himself. I’m pretty sure he’d trade places with you without blinking.”

Cash squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Put Mom on the phone.”

A minute later, Cash’s mom came on.

“Cash, how are you, honey?” She sounded great, so much better than the woman she used to be. She’d found love and it fit her in all the right places.

“Hi, Mom, I’m good. I hate to ask, but do you know where Dad lives these days?”

“Last I heard he was still in the same old apartment.”

“He isn’t anymore.”

“He tried to contact me, but I wouldn’t take his calls.”

“He’s dying, Mom. Cirrhosis of the liver.”

She was silent for a long time then said, “That’s too bad. It isn’t a surprise, but it’s…unfortunate.”

“I didn’t tell you to bring you down, I just need to find him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess because he’s my father and he’s dying.” Austin stirred again and Cash turned around to stare through the open horizontal blinds onto Main Street. “He looked bad.”

“He’s family, that has to count for something.”

“Will you attend his funeral?”

“I’ll have to think about it, Cash, but probably not.”

“Okay.” Even if she didn’t have enough respect for Frank to attend, Cash hoped she would be there to support him.

He hung up.

On his own again.

Cash swiveled in his old desk chair to face the office again, ignoring his numb behind.

Austin sat on the edge of the cot, his hair flattened on one side of his head.

“What do you think?” Cash asked. “You learned your lesson?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Austin croaked, his voice sounding groggy.

“Tell me what you learned.”

Austin shrugged. “I shouldn’t smoke weed?” He really didn’t get it.

“Listen, I’ve been where you are. I spent a lot of years taking care of my mom when she couldn’t take care of herself, when my dad wasn’t around.”

Austin wouldn’t look Cash in the eye.

“What would happen to your mom if you got into serious trouble, serious enough to end up in jail? You think she has any idea how to take care of herself?”

“No,” Austin mumbled.

He gestured to the cell. “If you’re not careful, one of these days this will be real.”

Austin’s eyes lit with fear.

“If I wanted to, I could cart you off to a social worker who might decide you’re better off in foster care.”

Yeah, that was fear in his eyes, all right.

“Next time I catch you with drugs, I’m going to have to charge you. What life dished out to you isn’t fair,” Cash continued, “but you have to keep moving forward. Don’t be tempted by this shit, Austin. By the easy way out. When you don’t feel strong enough to face it on your own, you call me. Got it?”

Austin finally looked up and Cash was humbled by the gratitude on his face. “Yeah, I got it.”

“You want out?”

“I wanna go home.”

Cash nodded. “Okay.”

He unlocked the cell door and Austin walked past him.

“Give me your jacket,” Cash said.

Austin recoiled. “You’re gonna make me walk home without my coat?”

He frowned. “’Course not. I bought you a new one.”

“Why?”

“Because the one you’re wearing is falling apart. Besides, it’s not a winter jacket.” Looking at Austin, Cash realized he’d misinterpreted the question. As far as he could tell, Austin had meant either “what do I have to do for it?” or “why do you care?”

“Because,” he said as he handed Austin the new one, “I’m your Big Brother. It’s my responsibility to watch out for you.”

Austin took off his old jacket and handled the new one with reverence. He should. It had set Cash back a bit.

Austin’s reaction was off. He should have been excited, kid-happy about getting new stuff, but instead he remained subdued and wary as though he expected Cash to take it away. Or as though he couldn’t believe he deserved it.

“Those are yours, too.” Cash nodded toward a hat and gloves.

“I slipped some granola bars into the pocket of the jacket. There’s a twenty for lunch. Don’t lose it.”

Austin put on the hat and gloves. He cleared his throat and said, “Thanks,” with a small smile. Cash thought he detected a sheen in the boy’s eyes before he turned away toward the door.

Cash stopped him. “Does your mom go through your pockets?”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Best go spend that money at the diner now, maybe buy something for dinner, too, then hide it when you get home.”

It didn’t feel right warning a boy against his mother, but this was real life, not Leave it to Beaver. Austin had to look out for himself.

“I got a place in our shed where I keep things. Mom doesn’t know about it.”

“Good. Don’t think I’m going soft on you just because I’m giving you stuff. Next time I’ll have to charge you. Got it?” His stern “cop” voice seemed to make an impression on Austin.

“Yeah, I got it.” Cash could tell he did. Finally.

“I’ll see you later tonight.”

“’Kay,” Austin mumbled and left, the tips of his long hair sticking out from under his new hat.

Cash picked up the old jacket and searched the pockets for contraband. Nothing. Not a single thing, not even an empty gum wrapper.

Man, he hated distrusting Austin.

He didn’t believe that marijuana led to heavier drug use, but Austin must feel the heavy burden of his life. Any escape from the situation would appeal, no matter the source.

Cash had to find that source. Where had Austin picked up the marijuana?

Just out of curiosity, he emptied his own pockets. Keys. A wallet with enough bills in it to make him feel secure. Change. The remainder of a bag of cinnamon hearts he’d bought the other day.

Austin had so little. Pitiful. Just plain pitiful.

He threw on his jacket and ran out of the office after Austin.

“Hey,” he called, and Austin stopped and waited for him.

“Let’s go to Sweet Talk. I feel like candy. How about you?”

Austin perked up. “I like candy.”

In Janey Wilson’s candy store he ordered chocolates and whichever candies Austin indicated he might like. With a mom on welfare, Austin didn’t get a lot of treats in his hard life.

By the time they were ready to leave Cash had a replacement bag of cinnamon hearts for himself and Austin’s pockets were full to bursting. Now Cash felt good, as though he’d completed the job.

They strode to the door, Austin with the slightest of smiles. Man, it would feel amazing to see Austin really smile, or grin, or laugh.

The bell above the door tinkled and Cash looked up. He stopped. So did Austin.

Shannon Wilson entered the shop and, for a minute, Cash couldn’t breathe.

Her eyes took in every corner of the shop and everyone in it before she relaxed and concentrated on Cash.

Once out of cop mode, she looked as radiant as the sun rising on a May morning. She wore a short ski jacket and blue jeans tucked into slouchy boots, and that pretty blond hair in a ponytail again. She wasn’t a cop now. She was just a woman. All woman.

“Hey,” she said, and slid her hands into her jacket pockets. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”