The Jailbird

Scott was once again enjoying his “hero status” as he stood in the Green River saloon admiring the beer placed in front of him. Following his father’s advice from the night before, he searched out Kinsey to confess he had a change of heart. He told his cousin he was willing to escort her to town so she would have the opportunity to personally express her opinions to Mayor Will Jenkins.

Last night Murdoch's plan seemed quite reasonable but, as the cousins stood out in front of the newspaper office a few moments ago, Scott began to question his own good judgment.

“Why don’t I accompany you in to see Will?”

“Honestly, Scott, I'm fine. I don't need someone to hold my hand.”

“Remember what I said about honey and vinegar.”

“They don't mix.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “No, that's oil and water. Nevermind. When you're done meet me across the street and I'll buy you a sarsaparilla.

“Sarsaparillas are for babies.”

Frowning, Scott watched Kinsey enter Jenkins’ office. ‘Since when? I happen to like the stuff.’

The older cousin figured by the time he reached the bottom of his beer mug, the crusader of women’s rights will have spoken her mind and the good mayor of Green River will have listened and then sent her packing.

pSwallowing his last sip, Scott glanced at his pocket watch; either his beer had gone down much too easy or Will Jenkins had more endurance than he anticipated. While deciding to quench his thirst a bit longer or to purchase a town newspaper, he heard his name spoken.

“Scott.”

The older boy standing next to him had recently become Val Crawford's “right-hand man” around the sheriff's office. Val kept the boy busy doing odd jobs and running errands claiming “it keeps the kid on the outside of those bars instead of the inside.”

“Jamie! Just in time! Could I interest you in a sarsaparilla?”

“Sure. That would taste right fine.”

“Thank you, James, for restoring my self-esteem. Henry, make that two. In fact, we may need a third once Kinsey is done at the newspaper office.”

“Kinsey isn't at the newspaper office.”

“Great! You saw her heading this way?”

“Well, not exactly. Sheriff Crawford’s got her locked up. Asked me to find you. Hey, thanks for the sarsaparilla!”

Scott entered the sheriff's office to find Val Crawford leaning against his desk sporting a look of frustration with a hint of amusement. On the other hand, Scott only displayed frustration. Amusement was left back at the saloon.

“Where is she?”

Val’s thumb pointed over his shoulder. “In the back. Follow me.”

Scott had to admit, Kinsey was by far the best-looking client the sheriff had the honor of arresting in some time. Her hat was missing; no doubt somewhere between here and Jenkins’ office. A few of her wild auburn curls had escaped roaming freely on their own. Other than these minor indiscretions, his little cousin was seated with hands folded in her lap as if she was waiting for the Sunday morning sermon to commence. It was a shame the jail cell bars were spoiling the vision of piousness.

“What’s the charge, sheriff?”

“Let me get my list.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “There’s a list?!”

Crawford matched Scott’s eyebrow and raised him one more. “There is.”

Like the main speaker at a Harvard graduation, Val ceremoniously removed a folded piece of paper from a back pocket while fishing his reading glasses from his shirt pocket. Parking the spectacles on the bridge of his nose, the paper was unfolded and a throat was cleared.

“Number one…”

Now Scott’s second eyebrow joined the first. “They’re numbered?!”

“They are.”

The sheriff paused a moment to be certain he had his audience’s attention before continuing.

“As I was saying, number one, disturbing the peace. Number two, offering slanderous remarks to an elected town official.”

A murmur was heard from the jail cell. “Bloody hell.”

Two sets of stern eyes shifted in the direction of the comment.

“Number Three, the use of unladylike language. Number four, resisting arrest. Number five, assaulting an officer of the law.”

A protest was heard. “I hardly kicked you!”

A rebuttal was given. “You kicked me.”

“Number six…”

Holding out his hand, Scott had heard enough. “Val, can I see the list?”

“Of course.”

As the list was silently reviewed, the older cousin glanced up once or twice unnoticed by the intended recipient who refused to make eye contact.

“May I keep it?”

Scratching his chin, the sheriff pondered. “Well, I may need it back at some point for evidence.”

Scott nodded and pocketed the paper. With hands on his hips, Scott returned his attention to the jail cell. “Could you see your way clear, Sheriff, with releasing the delinquent into my custody with a promise of this behavior never happening again?”

Keeping the town residences’ safety in mind, Val took a moment or two before making his decision. “I suppose I could see fit to honor your request.”

Scott adjusted his hat to ride low over his eyes. “Fine. Unlock the door.”

“Excuse me.” The prisoner spoke. “I would prefer to stay incarcerated. I believe there are times where one must make a sacrifice to prove one's point.”

Scott crossed his arms “Is that a fact? Well, little girl, would you like to know what sacrifice you’ll be making when it comes time for me to prove my point?”

Silence.

“No? Good. We’ll keep it as a surprise. Val, unlock the door.”

The metal door swung open while an index finger pointed to a spot on the floor where the model of a Sunday school teacher was to stand front and center. Scott’s patience had reached the breaking point that even a sarsaparilla couldn’t mend. “You will apologize to Sheriff Crawford and by God, every word that comes out of your mouth better be sincere.”

Kinsey chose each syllable as if it was her last. “Sheriff Crawford, I deeply regret my actions. I wish to apologize for the inconveniences I have caused for you this day. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my moments of unwise choices. I promise this will never happen again.”

Val confirmed that was the most eloquent apology ever given in the Green River sheriff’s office. “Apology accepted, young lady.”

*******

Johnny was almost knocked over as Kinsey stormed into the hacienda with Scott not far behind.

“Where are you off to, Half-pint?”

“My. Room.”

Johnny located his brother heading towards the study.

“Needing something, Boston?”

“A. Drink.”