“Not my problem.”
“This is bullshit. I ain’t done nothing wrong.”
“Maybe I just don’t like the way you talk to women, Joe.”
“Maybe I don’t care what you think.” Joe was getting over his fear of the badge now, being more in fear of town-wide embarrassment. Clayton could feel him starting to buck. He leaned in. “Say you’re sorry.”
“Fuck you.”
That’s when Holly saw the lights go out in Clayton’s face. He’d seen that look before on the faces of a lot of men he’d had to put down. The sheriff went full dark. Holly knew he would. Clayton yanked down hard on Big Joe’s neck and kicked his legs out from underneath him. Joe hit the floor hard. Falling bar stools collided into the few remaining patrons, who quickly made for the exits. Clayton used a size-eleven cowboy boot to kick Joe over flat on his back, and then used that same boot to step down on his face. “Fuck who?”
Holly sipped his water and stood. He was amazed at how fast it had happened. He’d almost written Clayton off as a sloppy drunk. Nothing like what he’d expected him to be, but he was wrong. He didn’t even realize how wrong until he saw Clayton’s gun drawn and pointed at Joe’s head. He never even saw him draw it.
“Whoa, Sheriff,” Holly said, stepping into the fray. “That’s enough. Put it away. Let him up.”
“Apologize,” Clayton said again, not letting the big man move.
“I’m sorry, Sheriff, I’m sorry.”
Clayton thumbed back the hammer. “To the girl, fat ass. Apologize to the girl.” A dark stain spread over Big Joe’s crotch as he pissed himself.
“I’m sorry, Nicole. Jesus, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Holly put both his hands up in front of Clayton as a form of surrogate surrender for the man on the floor. “Put it away, Sheriff. Put the gun away and let him up.”
Clayton switched his rabid glare from Big Joe to Agent Holly, who kept his hands up and repeated slowly, “Put . . . it . . . away.” Clayton finally did. He slid the Colt into his holster and took his foot off Joe’s face. The big boy scuffled away across the floor toward the door. When he got outside, a few people in the crowd helped him to his feet. For a moment he looked like he was going to say something, but Holly stopped him with three words. From the door, he pointed one finger at Big Joe and said, “Don’t. Just go.” Big Joe took the advice.
Holly turned his attention back to Clayton, who hadn’t moved. He stood staring at the floor as if Joe were still down there. “I think you’re done here, Sheriff.” He laid a cautious hand on Clayton’s shoulder. “Let me take you home.”
Clayton wore a look on his face like he’d just woken from surgery that required a heavy anesthetic. “Okay,” he said. Holly looked back to Nicole, who hadn’t moved much, either, except to survey the damage done to her daddy’s place. He nodded at her, then toted Clayton out to his car.
4.
Kate came out on the porch holding a .30-.30 before Holly could open the door on Clayton’s side of the Crown Vic. Holly knew about Kate. He knew from photos that she was beautiful, but her standing there with that rifle, in nothing but an oversized nightshirt, put her on the list of the top ten sexiest women he’d ever seen. The porch light silhouetting her legs through the thin material drove her up to the top five. She could see someone else in the car but couldn’t make out who it was. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Mrs. Burroughs?”
“I know my name. I asked who you are.”
Holly smiled.
“I’m serious. My husband’s the sheriff.”
“I work with your husband. He’s here with me in the car.”
“Who the hell are you?”
Holly held his hands up slightly higher than his shoulders. “My name is Simon Holly. I’m a federal agent and, seriously, ma’am, Clayton is here in the car.”
Kate took a step forward to see the man in the car a little better in the dark. Holly lowered one hand and opened the passenger-side door. Light flooded the interior of the Crown Vic, and Kate saw her husband. She lowered the rifle a little and took two more steps toward the car before noticing the damage done to his face and steadied the gun back on Simon. She racked the lever. “What happened to him?”
Holly put his hands up a little higher. “Oh, no. You got it wrong. I didn’t do that. He was already like that. I’m just giving him a ride home.”
“He’s a friend, Katie. Put that thing away.” Clayton raised a wobbly hand in the air to motion for her to put down the gun, and then tried unsuccessfully to pull himself out of the car. Simon lurched forward and grabbed his elbow to keep him from falling. Kate leaned the rifle against the quarter panel of the car and took Clayton’s face in her hands. She smelled the whiskey immediately and pulled back.
“Clayton? Are you . . . ? Have you been . . . ?”