Page 36 of An Unfinished Memory

Ray had planned to retire ten years ago, after Wilder had on-the-job experience and Ray’s first grandkid was born. But no, he needed the health coverage. Valid.

He’d been about to retire again five years ago. But no, he’d be bored.

Then two years ago. But no, the population spurt in the county was causing growing pains, and his expertise was needed.

Figured he’d actually retire after the divorce.Ifhe actually did this time.

“He’s confident I’ll get appointed interim sheriff,” Wilder continued, “and then I’ll run in the next election. He thinks there’ll be no one to run against.”

“I’m sure there’ll be some takers.”

“But would they be any good? Kaplan seemed interested, but he’s in it for himself.”

We’d also had this conversation before. Wilder was a lot like his brothers—no one else could do as good of a job as them. The difference in the next election would be that they weren’t running against Ray. There might be a lot more interest than Ray or Wilder expected. “That’s Ray’s voice, since he groomed you and all.”

There was a tsk on the other end. “You’re making him sound like a pedo.”

“You know what I mean.” Ray had helped Wilder through some hard years after Birdie Knight walked out on her family, but he’d also targeted Wilder as a future deputy and sheriff and set about making it so. That Wilder wanted the end goal so badly had been kismet—for them. Death knell for us. “I guess we’ll have to see if he actually submits any retirement paperwork.”

“Yeah.” A few moments of weighted silence passed. Did he think that becoming sheriff would change things? That he would have fewer hours, less court, and not fill any days off with meetings? But then, it didn’t matter for him anymore.

I knew I should go. I should reheat my meatloaf and remember I was a divorced woman, and I was no longer invested in this argument.

“Hey, what’s with the camper?” he asked.

I happily extracted myself from the subject of his job, also content to stay on the phone. “I’m going camping.”

“Where are you going?” His curt question came off like I was being interrogated. If anyone else asked me the way he did, I’d be on defense. But I liked Wilder’s interest. A lot.

“The Black Hills in April. I plan to do some sightseeing and hiking and maybe even some shopping.” Rapid City, South Dakota, wasn’t a metropolis, but it’d be the biggest town I’d spent real time in since vet school. “But in September, I’m going to Medora. Kind of like a test run so I’m close to home if anything goes wrong with hauling the camper.”

“Who’s going with you?”

“No one.”

Silence met my answer. “Sutton?—”

“Don’t give me the lecture. I’m tired of everyone being surprised a single woman can even back a camper into a spot.” I wasn’t expecting concern from Wilder. He was normally my champion.

“I’ve seen you back horse trailers a million times. It’s you alone at night—hell, even during the day—in a remote spot, I’m worried about.”

I should be defensive, but instead, warmth spread through me. “I’ll have Oreo and bear spray.”

“It’s not the bears I’m worried about,” he grumbled.

“There are no bears in Medora.” Mountain lions, and I’d never see an attack coming. Oreo could sound an alarm. Maybe.

“How long are you going to be gone?”

“I’ll return the next Monday.”

“And in April.”

“I’m leaving the sixteenth.”

A grunt was my only response. “We still up for this Friday?”

My body tingled as an answer. “Yes.”

---