Page 4 of Big Daddy Sheriff

His clothes were tattered and smelled unwashed.

Don himself smelled unwashed. His shaggy hair was showing a lot more salt than pepper these days. He hadn’t shaved in a while. It had probably been just as long since he’d bathed.

“You know I got to take you in, right?”

“But I was shooting at the deer!”

Quinn shook his head. “Even if that was the case—and it’s not—there’s still a lot wrong with that.”

“Like what?” Don said.

“Well, for starters, you’re on a public road. There’s no hunting allowed here. But beyond that, it isn’t deer season.”

“Like hell it ain’t!” Don said, trying to puff out his chest as much as possible. He looked silly like that—trying to appear tough while sitting in the center of the road. “It’s October!”

“It’s August,” Quinn said.

“August, you say?”

Quinn nodded.

“Well, I’ll be…” Don muttered some more, incoherently, before saying, “Well, they both start with O.”

Quinn didn’t bother correcting him.

“Come on.” Quinn reached down and took the drunk man by the elbow, helping him to his feet. He took a blast of hot,liquor-soaked breath straight to the face and staggered back a moment. “Good Lord, Don! It smells like you’ve been drinking pure gasoline.”

“That’s pure corn mash you’re smellin’, Marshal. Made it myself just yesterday.”

“You’ve been on a bender for a lot longer than one day, from the looks of you,” Quinn said.

Don laughed as he got willingly into the back of the police cruiser. “Yeah. You’re right. That’s why my jugs done went dry and I had to whip up another batch yesterday!”

They were only a minute into the drive when Don began snoring loudly. Apparently, the road had already lulled him into a deep slumber.

Quinn was glad he hadn’t needed to use force against the old drunk. Don wasn’t a bad guy. He needed treatment far more than he needed jail. Sure, it was illegal to make ‘shine, but Quinn wouldn’t raise a ruckus about that. Now, as far as the shooting went… Well, Don would probably have to pay a fine over it. It was up to the judge. In the meantime, he could sleep off his bender in the jail. If past times were indicators, he’d be out for two or three days solid before he woke up with little to no memory of the events that landed him there.

The stench from the backseat was nearly overwhelming. Quinn needed an escape, even if it was only a mental one. So, he admired the scenery.

He’d lived in the region his whole life, but the beauty never ceased to amaze him.

Surrounding him, the Ouachita Mountains stood in all their wonder. They weren’t giant and jagged like the Rockies. But they were gorgeous in their own right with rolling, tree-covered slopes. The entire area was green in fact, thick with forest. He crossed a bridge that took him over the Kiamichi River, thewater chuckling and gurgling over the rocks on its way to meet up with the Red River along the border of Oklahoma and Texas.

But that was a ways off.

They were far closer to Arkansas than they were the Lone Star State. In fact, Arkansas was only about fifteen miles east. That suited Quinn just fine. The way he figured it, those mountains were God’s country. Texas was nice, but he was in heaven right here.

He kept focusing on the scenic beauty in hopes he could tune out that pungent odor coming from the backseat.

And tune out thoughts of having a sweet Little all his own. Or not having one, was more like it.

That was even harder to escape than that wretched stench was.

She occupied his thoughts most of the time, it seemed.

She. He chuckled just thinking that.Shedidn’t even have a name. Nor a face. But he hadn’t lost hope that somewhere out there wasthesweet Little just waiting to find her Daddy.

HisLittle.

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