Town Darling (3 page)

Vaughn stared at him and
appeared stunned.  Wiley turned toward Casey and offered a pleasant smile while
placing his hand on her shoulder.  He’d always been overly friendly toward her
growing up, and his friendliness had only increased as she got older.  She was
never sure what to make of him.

“Don’t let Deputy Holt
intimidate you, Casey,” Wiley announced.  “New deputies are always a little
John Wayne until they’re properly broken in.  But don’t you worry; I’m looking
out for you.”

Casey stared at him with an
odd look.  He smiled warmly at her and returned to his blazer.  She stared
after him as he drove away, appearing dumbfounded.  She then turned to Vaughn,
who shut his ticket book with disgust and possible embarrassment.

“What just happened?” she
asked more to herself.

“What do you think?” Vaughn
scoffed while avoiding looking and her then walked away.

Could it be true?  Was she
the town darling?

T
he sheriff’s blazer pulled
up to the police station less than two blocks from the diner.  Sheriff Wiley
got out of his blazer with his usual lunch-to-go from the diner while
attempting to juggle his take-out coffee and the newspaper.  Abby approached
him and nearly cut off his path to the police station.  He attempted to keep
from losing his lunch or coffee from his sudden stop.  Despite the scowl on
Abby’s face, Wiley attempted to be polite.

“Good afternoon, Abby,” he
announced cheerfully.  “If you’re here about added security for the fair,
everything is under--”

“No, that’s no why I’m
here,” she remarked with the annoyance evident in her voice.  “I saw Deputy
Holt giving Casey Remington a ticket half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, it was just a
misunderstanding,” Wiley announced.  “Deputy Holt is still following the police
handbook like it’s gospel.  I took care of it.”

“So I saw,” she huffed. 
“That’s why I wanted to speak to you.”

Wiley appeared puzzled.

“That girl has been granted
special privileges since the day she was born,” Abby said matter-of-fact. 
“Deputy Holt is the first one with enough courage to stand up to her and that
whole family, for that matter.”

Sheriff Wiley stared at
Abby with a look of surprise.  “I don’t think Casey or her family has received
any special privileges from anyone in the police department.  She’s a good
kid.”

“She’s disrespectful toward
me,” Abby launched back while glaring at him through narrow, hateful eyes.

“I’m sorry you feel that
way, Abby, but I don’t have jurisdiction over interactions between citizens.”

“Perhaps you’d prefer to
have this conversation with my husband,” Abby scoffed while folding her arms
across her chest and gave him a demanding look.

Wiley suddenly frowned
while staring at the smug look on her face.  “Just exactly what is it you expect
me to do?”

Abby smiled with all the
sweetness of a mafia kingpin.  “That’s more like it,” she replied.  “I expect
you to use a firm hand while dealing with that manipulative little twit,
Casey.  Put an end to her riding that horse through town.”  She appeared
pleased with herself.  “Yes, that should do for starters.  And no more special
treatment toward her.  If she breaks the law, I want you to come down on her
hard
.”

Sheriff Wiley frowned and
nodded.  “Good day,
Mrs. Ridgeway.
” 

Wiley was usually informal,
except when someone pulled rank on him, and Abby was pulling rank.  He
continued past her and into the police station.  Abby stroked her fur shawl,
grinned proudly, and turned toward Town Square.

†

C
asey leaned against the
back wall of the diner’s main building with Dina, who sat on an old crate and
massaged her feet.  Casey was distracted by what happened with Sheriff Wiley
earlier.  It still bothered her, and she wasn’t sure why.

“Why couldn’t I be a
secretary instead of a waitress?” Dina groaned softly.

“Because the thought of
being a secretary makes you violently ill,” Casey replied.

She eyed Casey sharply. 
“It’s not the idea of
being
a secretary that makes me ill; just the
thought of
certain
secretaries.”  Dina rested her head against the wall
and sighed.  “I don’t want to be a waitress all my life.”

“I told you before,” Casey
announced.  “You can have my job at the antique store.  I hate antiques.  I
hate the way they smell; I hate the dust they attract.”  She grimaced.  “God, I
hate dusting.  You should let me talk to my parents.”

“You’re not going to get
out of it, Casey,” Dina informed her.  “Your parents want you and Grey to take
over one day.  I’m not part of that equation.”

“You’re practically their
daughter,” Casey insisted matter-of-fact.  “I’ll ask them tonight.”

“No, don’t,” Dina protested
and slipped back into her shoes.  “I sponge off you and your family enough.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

There was a long silence. 
Casey once again sank into thought about the earlier Deputy Holt and Sheriff
Wiley incident.  Dina studied Casey and appeared curious.

“What’s really bothering
you?” Dina finally asked.  “You hate this alley.”

“That’s because it smells.”

“That’s probably my feet,”
Dina teased and stood.  She stared at Casey a long moment and appeared
sympathetic.  “I know something’s bothering you.  Was it Deputy Holt?”

Casey shrugged but didn’t
look at her.  “Something he said.”

Dina appeared surprised
with her eyes wide and something resembling a grin on her face.  “Did he hit on
you?”  The thought obviously pleased her.

“What?  No!”

Dina groaned and rolled her
eyes.  “I swear he’s gay.”

“You need a boyfriend bad,”
Casey scoffed.  Her look turned serious and she tensed.  “He called me the town
darling.”

She stared at Casey with an
odd look on her face and absolutely no understanding.  “Okay--?”

“That’s derogatory, Dina,”
she announced.

“I wish men would offend me
like that,” Dina replied dryly.

“He thinks I get special
treatment,” she insisted.  “He practically called me Melanie.”

“Okay, that would be an
insult,” Dina remarked.  “I don’t get why you’re so bothered over one little
comment.  You never cared about anything he said before.”

“Yes, but then Sheriff
Wiley came along and ripped up the ticket,” Casey informed her.  “He proved
Deputy Holt right.  Is that how people see me?  Am I the cute and fuzzy bunny
that can do no wrong?”

“The only time you’re cute
and fuzzy is when you’ve had too much to drink,” Dina teased with a grin. 
“You’re making something out of nothing.  Everyone knows Sheriff Wiley has an
old man crush on you.”

Casey groaned and rolled
her eyes.  “I’m going to be ill.”

“You do realize that you
don’t have to picture men naked when I tell you they have a crush on you,” Dina
remarked.

“Yet I always do.”

“Seriously, you’re the one
who needs a boyfriend.”

†

E
rnest Harford’s home was
located on the further edge of town and set back on a hill with a long driveway
leading up to it.  Considering the town’s moderate means and casual appearance,
the Harford Estate set itself apart with its glitz and glamour.  The only other
home in town that remotely compared to the elegant estate was the mayor’s home
only a few blocks away.  Despite Ernest’s perceived wealth, his was new money. 
He lacked the style and grace his sister, Abby, somehow managed.  Ernest, along
with his sister, came into their wealth nearly twenty years ago when a distant
relative died and left them several hundred acres of worthless land.  The
worthless land turned into a gold mine, when they literally discovered gold beneath
the property.  They sold the land for millions and overnight became the
wealthiest families in Darwood Falls.  Shortly thereafter, Abby’s husband was
elected mayor, and Ernest helped run the town from behind the scenes.

Despite the beauty and
grandeur of the mansion and estate from the outside, the interior left
something to be desired.  The elegance of the grand hallway had faded from
years of neglect.  Personal belongings were carelessly lying about, and it was
easy to assume it had been a long time since the place had been cleaned. 
Ernest’s wife had died nearly ten years earlier and the condition of the home
showed it.  The doorbell rang.  Ernest hurried through the hall for the foyer. 
He opened the door to reveal Mayor Lance.  Neither man appeared very
enthusiastic in the company of the other. 

“What is it this time?”
Ernest muttered and walked away from the door.

Lance entered, looked
around, and showed his distaste for the condition of the home.  He immediately
followed Ernest into one of the nearby rooms.  The study was even less
attractive than the grand hallway.  Papers were scattered along the floor, the
garbage can was overflowing, cigar ashes from the ashtray were piled high, and
there were at least four empty whiskey glasses on the cluttered desktop. 
Ernest took a seat behind the desk and pushed the whiskey bottle toward Lance. 
Lance declined and removed some old books from the chair in front of the desk. 
He sat in the chair and appeared less than enthusiastic.  A small, gray cat
jumped on Ernest’s lap and purred affectionately.  He pushed the cat off while
making a face of disgust for the animal.  Ernest puffed on his cigar and blew
smoke toward the ceiling.  The ceiling was coated with a thick, brownish yellow
film from years of cigar smoke.

“So what’s the catastrophe
this time?” Ernest teased.

“I think Brandon Remington
intends to run against me in this year’s election,” Lance said while frowning.

“He said he wasn’t,” Ernest
casually announced with little interest.  “Brandon has a business to run. 
There’s no perk for him to be mayor.  He’s too much of a ‘good old boy’.  He’d
be bored out of his mind.”

“Of course he denied his
intent to run,” Lance announced firmly, “but I think that’s just a story.  That
whole family has been acting strange lately.”  He suddenly sat forward in his
chair and glared at Ernest.  “If he becomes mayor, we’re both screwed.  It’s
party over for you too.”

“I can’t believe you’re
actually worried about this,” Ernest said with a chuckle.  He leaned forward
and grinned.  “You have the law on your side, Lance.  Use it.  Get Sheriff
Wiley to dig up some dirt on Brandon.  He was in the military, for God’s sake. 
There has to be some dirt on him somewhere.”

“Sheriff Wiley is going to
retire soon,” Lance said.  “He’s been difficult to persuade lately.”

Ernest groaned softly.  “No
imagination,” he scoffed.  “You control Wiley now more than ever.  You can use
his retirement against him.  Besides, you have three ambitious, young deputies
eager to make a name for themselves.  Surely, you can persuade any one of them
to do your bidding.  Isn’t Deputy Tucker dating your daughter?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty
serious,” Lance said with a defeated sigh.

“Rumor has it Deputy Holt
has it out for Casey too.”

“I see you’ve been talking
to Abby,” Lance muttered.

Ernest grinned and took
another puff from his cigar.  “I’m sure I can persuade my boys to pay special
attention to Brandon’s brood.  Grey bartends at the tavern; and Casey spends a
lot of evenings hanging out there.”

“Persuade,” Lance reiterated
sternly.  “I don’t want them hurting that girl.”

“Jesus, Lance,” Ernest
bellowed.  “You too?  What’s this hold Casey Remington has over the men in this
town?”

“No hold,” Lance snapped. 
“I just don’t condone hurting innocent girls.”

“Fine,” Ernest scoffed. 
“I’ll tell the boys to use the kid gloves on her sweet ass.”

†

T
he Remington’s large,
remodeled farmhouse was nestled in a beautifully landscaped setting.  There was
a large barn fifty yards from the house with acres of pastures contained within
wooden fencing.  Several horses grazed within the lush pastures in the
afternoon sunshine.  Casey stood in the paddock while lunging Storm in a circle
around her.  Her well-trained horse required limited guidance.  With verbal
commands, she sent him into a canter.  Storm cantered in a circle around her
then tossed his head and kicked up his heels.

“Whoa,” Casey called to him
and hid her smile.

The large horse stopped on
command and turned to look at her.  She knew he knew what he did.  There were
times he was like a little kid trying to get away with something.  He snickered
softly as if laughing at her.

“Yeah, real funny,” she
remarked then shook her head.  “You’re bored; I get it.”

She approached the horse
and removed the lunge line from his halter.  She motioned with her hand for him
to stay as she slowly backed several feet from him.  He tossed his head.

“You’re such a brat.”

Casey stood several feet
away while facing him and raised her hands in the air.  Storm threw his head
and reared up on command.  She lowered her hands and he came back down on all
four hooves.  Casey laughed softly.  She was pleased with his training.  He was
a smart horse, although sometimes he was a little too smart for his own good. 
Storm tossed his head and rocked slightly as if wanting to rear again.  His
ears perked forward with anticipation.

“Okay,” she sighed.  “One
more, but then that’s it.”

Casey raised her hands
again.  Storm reared up and thrashed out with his hooves while towering high
above her.  Seeing his underbelly just a few feet away from her face was almost
sobering.  She lowered her hands.  Storm didn’t come back down.  He thrashed
his hooves and maintained his balance on his hind legs.

“Now you’re just showing
off,” she scoffed.