Next World Series | Vol. 6 | Families First [Battle Grounds] Ewing, K. (free ebooks for android .txt) 📖

“Please what?”

“Please follow me to the back room.”

James did as asked, having no reason not to trust the man he had made more than one square deal with in the past month.

“Mr. Mayor, I know a lot of people, wouldn’t you say?” asked the restaurant owner.

“Sounds about right, owning this is the only restaurant in town.”

“Yes, anyway, what was that out there?”

“Just breakfast,” replied James.

“No, the other thing—with the lady Sheriff and the guy who hangs everybody. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“What’s the second thing?” asked James.

“I need another steer. We’re getting low on beef again, and if I don’t deliver…well, someone may take my place and open up down the street.”

“Okay,” said James. “We can do another deal, almost the same as last time.”

“Almost? Are you charging me more?”

“No, not that. I need your loyalty and trust not to jump to any conclusions about what you’re going to hear about me, and make sure your customers don’t, either.”

“So, you’re in trouble with her and him, is that right?”

“Yes, not because I’ve done anything wrong, or Jason Davis either, but they already have him locked up and I’m next, after lunch today.”

“What could they possibly have on you except for maybe this?” He pretended like he was sneaking a swig out of an old moonshine bottle, the kind they slung back with the arm before bringing it to the lips.

“I wish it were that,” said James. “It’s something bigger, something they have done, and I found out about it. So, in exchange for another deal, I want you to keep this secret and let the good folks of this town know Jason and I will have this fixed quickly and be back to serve you. The sooner I’m back, the sooner you will have your beef.”

“Okay, it’s a deal; you have my word,” said the restaurant owner.

James was feeling nervous about Jason, but it wasn’t just that. He wanted to go to his office and be alone until it was time but forced himself to stay through lunch, talking with everyone he could about how great this town would be a year from now. Of course, he couldn’t tell them the truth…not yet.

* * * * * * *

Chapter Twenty-six

Weston, Colorado

Jason spoke openly with his new friend once inside the jailhouse.

“I’ve got nowhere to run to,” he told her. “I knew this was coming, but I thought it would be later in the day, is all.”

“What about the Mayor—I mean the VanFleet guy?” she asked. “Is he in on this?”

“No, nothing like that,” Jason replied. “My family and I live with him on their ranch. He’s a good man, not like those two,” he pointed towards where the Sheriff and Judge went. “In fact, he’ll be inside this afternoon.”

“Really?” she asked, drawing out the word. “Why pick you up first…unless…?”

“Unless what?” Jason asked nervously.

“Unless they are going to interrogate you before they bring him in. Like those old episodes of Cops, where they would separate the suspects and then get the true stories the easy way or the hard way,” she added, as if she were reminiscing about a quiet night at home watching someone else’s misfortune.

“Now you’ve got me nervous,” replied Jason, fidgeting.

“You were always that,” she said quietly—“at least the hour or so I’ve known you. Don’t worry. If I learned one thing from that show, it’s keep your mouth shut and ask for your lawyer.”

“Great, if I had a lawyer!” Jason replied. “But from what I’ve seen, there’s no such thing anymore. Just a Judge and executioner…”

Jason and Ken’s girlfriend were put into the same cell. She found it ironic—or just plain sick, maybe, that she had her boyfriend’s old cell. She had never seen him there, but the way he described it and the location told her it was the same one.

Ken told her everything about helping the Judge escape but left out any details of his former girlfriend, now the Sheriff of Weston. Had she not seen how Kate acted when Ken missed the landing on his bike, she may have thought the past was really the past. But after seeing her face when he crashed, it told her everything. This wasn’t a random man smashing his bike and body on the hard ground, or even an old boyfriend. This was someone she still loved, and it showed all over her pretty face. So, what now? she thought. Jason filled her in on more information than he should have after she questioned him about not leaving the truck and running, as she did.

“Here they come! One more thing,” Jason said. “Do whatever you have to in order to buy some time—like maybe a few days—and I’ll get you out of here.”

“Promise?” she asked, taking his hand.

“Uh, yes,” he replied, quickly pulling his hand away and feeling flushed.

“All right, lovebirds,” said the Sheriff, standing just beyond the front door of the cell. “Back to the front we go.”

Jason got quiet, with that old theme song playing over and over in his head about boys being bad and what are you planning to do when they come to get you? He couldn’t remember all the words, but the music wouldn’t stop.

Jason wasn’t in his cell for more than 15 minutes when the Sheriff arrived. She pulled him out, at least the deputies did, and sat him in her office, handcuffed to the chair. He listened as Judge Lowry spewed a long to-do about the official story of her former boyfriend, Sheriff Johnson. Jason looked over at the clock. There were three in the room, an oddity he thought but didn’t mention it. The town clock he saw out the window, which still worked, read 12:36, and he wondered when James would arrive. He