Page 22 of Mistletoe

“I’m merely suggesting that I post bail now rather than wait. I could be here for days.”

“My deepest condolences, but the law is the law. I cannot pick and choose which aspects I enforce.”

Morally upright. Unbending. Dull as dishwater.

“Oh, come on, hang protocol. You’re the sheriff. Use your discretion,” Emma said in a pleasant voice, as if she were not mentally listing all Nina’s shortcomings.

Nina leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and Emma did not like the expression on her face one bit. “Are we friends?” she asked.

“We’re… friendly.” Emma did not want to lie outright, but if playing up to nostalgia and an old friendship got her out of the cell, she’d do it. “Friendly associates.”

“We are not friends. Even if we were, I do not dopersonal favorsfor friends or miscreants. The implication insults me.”

That word again.

“I am not a miscreant,” Emma said.

“You assaulted a man in a room full of witnesses.”

“And you were one! You saw the whole thing. He insulted me and grabbed me. My actions were justified.”

“You started a bar brawl.” Nina stood from the desk and approached the cell. “A window was smashed. You’re responsible for some serious property damage.”

“That was not my fault,” Emma said. “Heaven forbid a woman defend herself! I broke one mug. I’ll pay for that, but not the furniture or the windows.”

“Ruined uniforms. Broken bones. I have a list if you’d like to read it yourself?” Nina produced a folded piece of paper from a pocket. The writing appeared to be small and cramped; no doubt, it was a very detailed list.

“Please forward any correspondence to my attorney,” Emma said, trying her best to sound unbothered. She was bothered. Completely bothered. Her actions had been more than justified but she’d never talk the sheriff round to her way of thinking, let alone talk her way out of the dungeon. The sheriff was too honest and morally upright. “What happened to my father? Is he being held upstairs?”

“We released him an hour ago.”

“You let a blind man ride home alone?” The horses knew the way home. Finding his way home in the dark wasn’t the issue. Any number of things could happen along the way. Bandits. Monsters. An irritable ratite could take offense to Pa’s whistling and attack.

“A deputy took him to a boarding house,” Nina said. “Whether or not he stays the night is his choice, not mine. He’s probably at the coffeehouse.”

“You know he’s banned from the coffeehouse.” Emma pushed off the bars and took three steps back until her legs hit the edge of the cot.

Sweetwater Point was a bustling town, always filled with people coming and going, but it was a small town all the same. It had two general stores, a music hall, three livery stables, about a dozen boarding houses, but only one coffeehouse. Pa and his strong opinions got him banned on the regular. Hugh, the owner, usually lifted the ban after a month, once tempers had a chance to cool. While the town was always filled with people, those people were transient. They didn’t stay, and apparently, the chatter in the coffeehouse got dull without Pa’s rabble-rousing.

“I can send a deputy to check on him,” Nina offered.

It was uncharacteristically kind and got Emma’s back up. “Care to explain why I am kept in such inadequate conditions? There’s a wood-burning stove, but no woodorburning. And a blanket wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Seems we’re a bit crowded today. Someone started a brawl in a tavern.”

“If the jail is overcrowded, why am I alone? Shouldn’t I have a cellmate?”

“Segregation by gender,” Nina replied quickly, as if she had the explanation ready and waiting.

Which was suspicious.

“Seems like a personal grudge from my perspective.”

“From my perspective, you’re a troublemaker. You started a brawl in a crowded tavern in front of the town’s sheriff. You’re dangerous.”

“Oh, that’s just ludicrous.”

“You have dangerous associates.”

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