Page 37 of Three-Inch Teeth

“Yeah, I will,” Hewitt agreed. “Because I hate those federal agencies and bureaucrats with the white-hot heat of a thousand suns. Maybe the first thing I’ll do is sue to get the number of grizzly bears down to a manageable population so they aren’t running around like maniacs killing our innocent people.”

“Good luck with that,” Joe said.

“Another thing,” Judge Hewitt said as his rare steak sandwich arrived, “I’d like you both to support Jackson Bishop for our new sheriff.”

“Your son-in-law?” Joe said.

“That’s him. What about it?” Hewitt said while sawing at the steak. “Isn’t it a good thing to know personally about the good character of a candidate for sheriff?”

“Sure,” Joe said.

“Look, I know you’ve had a bad run with our local sheriffs. We’ve had too many chuckleheads around here. Jackson is different. He’s competent and experienced.”

“Good to hear,” Joe said. “A competent sheriff would be a welcome change around here. We haven’t had a good one since Mike Reed.”

Currently, Bishop was an undersheriff in Park County and married to Hewitt’s only daughter. His opponent was Ruthanne Hubbard, who had been the county dispatcher for over twenty years. Hubbard had conducted a not-very-secret affair with the previous sheriff, Scott Tibbs, which had led to Mrs. Tibbs relocating to California and the sudden retirement of Tibbs himself.

Joe had briefly met Bishop at the Burg-O-Pardner as the man was campaigning door-to-door. Bishop was tall and fit with dark hair, a full mustache, and pale gray eyes that darted over Joe’s shoulder to see who else had entered the diner. Joe’s instant impression of Bishop was that of a good politician, glib and smooth.

He’d introduced himself by complimenting Joe and saying, “I hear you’ve had a mixed working relationship with the sheriff’s department.”

“You could say that,” Joe replied.

“Well, I want you to know that I value the job and responsibilities of game wardens. I think you’re an important part of the law enforcement community and I would consider you a fellow LEO. I pledge to cooperate with you if you’ll make the same pledge to cooperate with me.”

“It sounds like you’ve already got the job,” Joe said.

Bishop winked and said, “I have friends in high places.”

*

“JUDGE,” MARYBETH SAID to Jackson Bishop’s friend in high places while her Cobb salad was placed in front of her, “why are you asking for our support? Joe is the game warden and I’m the library’s director. We aren’t political.”

“No, but you’re both honest and straightforward people,” Hewitt said. “Folks around here know you can be trusted. And if you come out in support of Jackson, that will mean something in this county.”

“I need to stay out of this,” Joe said. “It’s not Game and Fish business to get involved in local elections. Especially when I need to work closely with whoever wins.”

Hewitt waved Joe’s statement away with the back of his hand. “This state has barely over a half million people. Everybody knows everybody, and there aren’t any of us without conflicts of interest. Hell, Ruthanne was diddling Sheriff Tibbs, and now she’s running for his job. You don’t think that isn’t a conflict? I know you like to operate under the radar, Joe, but sometimes you have to step up.”

Joe didn’t respond.

“I work for the county,” Marybeth said to Hewitt. “The sheriff’s department is a part of county government. It wouldn’t be ethical for me to weigh in on the election one way or the other.”

Judge Hewitt sat back in a huff and glared at them both.

“Just don’t oppose him, then,” he said. “I’m sure you can do that, at least.”

“I have no reason to oppose him,” Joe said. “That’s easy.”

“Same here,” Marybeth said. “I neither support nor oppose him.”

“So it’s a small victory, then,” Hewitt declared, as if tacking on an amendment to a criminal sentence in his courtroom.

With that, he pushed his empty plate away and stood up.

“I’ve got to get back to court,” he said. “I need to put a fentanyl dealer away. And you know why I need to throw the book at him and send him to Rawlins for the rest of his natural life?”

“No,” Joe said.

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