“Good. How soon can you get away?”
Joanna looked at the stack of correspondence on her desk. She needed to make as much headway on it as she could before the current day’s batch arrived. “Let’s make it eleven at Daisy’s,” she said. “That’ll give me time to finish up what I’m doing. Which reminds me. The reason I was calling you was to ask if you’d like to attend the annual sheriffs’ conference with me.”
“You mean you weren’t calling to apologize?”
“I was calling for both reasons,” Joanna said.
Butch laughed. “In that case, when’s the conference?”
“The week before Memorial Day. We finish up on Friday. It’s up at Page. We could probably stay gone over that three-day weekend, too.”
“Just you and me?” he asked.
“As long as we can find someone to take care of Jenny and the animals.”
“Sounds good. Only what’ll I do all day while you’re in meetings?”
Joanna shrugged and glanced back at the form. When that told her nothing, she browsed through the brochure. “It says here that wives—”
“Wives?” Butch interrupted.
“It does say ‘wives,’ “ Joanna told him. “Remember, at this point I’m still the only sheriff who’s a woman. They’re probably not used to the idea of sheriffs who show up with husbands in tow.”
“I’m not used to it yet, either,” Butch said. “Now, what does it say again?”
“That wives will be offered their choices of several tours, including a bus trip to Canyon de Chelly, visiting a trading post on the Navajo Nation, and possibly doing some antiquing.”
Butch sighed. “Well,” he said. “That’s a relief, anyway.”
“What’s a relief?”
“I was afraid you were going to tell me we’d all be doing makeovers and having our colors done.”
“I’m hanging up now,” she told him with another laugh. “See you at lunch.”
When she went back to working on the correspondence, it was with a good deal more energy. She started by filling out the registration form and authorizing the check that needed to go with it. Then she marched through the stack of mail. Would she come speak to the Willcox Kiwanis Club? Would she agree to be marshal of the Tombstone Heldorado Parade? Would she come to Douglas High School to be a part of their career-day program?
Responding to those requests and putting the various appointments into the calendar, Joanna was well aware that the job of sheriff consisted of far more public relations work than she had ever thought possible. No wonder her father, Sheriff D. H. Lathrop, had been at work so much of the time. It was also no wonder that his wife, Eleanor, had often been in an uproar about it.
How will Butch react to all those demands on my time? she wondered. He had been understanding enough in the past, but that was when they were just dating. Would his attitude change once he was at home keeping dinner warm for someone who never managed to make meals on time?
Finished with as much paperwork as she could handle right then, Joanna gathered up the stack of letters in need of envelopes and mailing. When she came out through her office door, her secretary was talking on the telephone. She hung up abruptly once she realized Joanna had stopped in front of her desk. Joanna noticed that Kristin seemed uncharacteristically flustered.
“Sorry,” Kristin said hurriedly. “I didn’t see you. Did you want something?”
“I’m going to lunch,” Joanna said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d get these all copied, addressed, and mailed. I’ve already put the appointments in my calendar, but you may want to add them to yours as well so you’ll know where I’m supposed to be and when.”
“All right,” Kristin said. “Any idea when you’ll be back?”
“Probably no later than twelve-thirty.”
Joanna started to walk away, then turned back. “How’s Deputy Gregovich this morning?”
Kristin flushed. “He’s fine,” she stammered.
Joanna nodded. “Tell him hello for me next time he calls.”
Out in the parking lot, Joanna stopped for a moment in the bright March sunshine. It wasn’t especially warm, and once again a blustery, chill wind was blowing in out of the west. Up on the hillside behind the department, the only visible clumps of green were either bear grass or scrub oak. At nearly five thousand feet, the mesquite was still nothing but gaunt black trunks and branches. Spring would come to the high desert country eventually, but not quite yet. It was still too soon for the emerald-green mesquite leaves to burst forth in search of sunlight.
On her way to Daisy’s Café, a place that seemed to be her home away from home these days, Joanna remembered something she had failed to ask Frank Montoya. She reached for her cell phone and caught him just as he was leaving for the Board of Supervisors meeting.
“Did you tell Terry Gregovich to keep an eye out for Big Red?” Joanna asked.
“Lucy’s hawk? I think so,” Frank answered. “But maybe not.”