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The Badge and the Bible

By Terry Burns

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Chapter 1

Sheriff Buck Green intended to have a leisurely lunch when the radio blared the words "Officer needs assistance... shots fired!" The thin electronic voice belonged to Clear Creek’s only female officer, Carol Tatum. No message got a lawman's adrenaline pumping like that dreaded call.
The radio added, "Officer needs assistance! I'm pinned down behind my unit at third and Jefferson!"
Buck heard sirens blaring in the distance as he backed out of the drive-in, tires squealing, one-handing the rest of his hamburger. The half-consumed cup of hot coffee still sat between his legs.
He tossed the burger, keeping the wrapper, then did the same with the remaining coffee, grimacing as it distributed itself evenly down the side of the patrol car. Birds gotta eat too, he thought.
The disposal project held Buck‘s attention a shade too long, and he found himself running up on a red Toyota. He flipped on the top beacons to whip around the little car without reducing speed. No point in being Sheriff if I can’t have a little fun now and then, he thought. Buck liked to drive with the light-bar on, but seldom got the chance.
Clearing the car, he stepped down even harder, and the powerful engine roared like a pride of angry lions. People in small towns still yielded right-of-way to an emergency vehicle, so he had a clear run . . . and he used it.
As he slid to a stop beside Carol's unit, a bullet smashed into his windshield. He pulled the shotgun out of the rack and jumped out to duck down beside Carol.
Buck dressed more like a working rancher than a cop, favoring blue jeans and checked, western-cut shirts instead of the kakhi uniform shirt his deputies wore. If it weren’t for the big gold badge pinned to a leather flap in his pocket, people might have trouble figuring him to be the law. Buck didn’t fit into a pigeon hole because he was more than a small-town Sheriff. He also pastored a small church on the outskirts of Clear Creek.
He liked to say he served both the badge and the Bible.
Buck worked the slide on the shotgun. It seemed inappropriate to him for even a part-time preacher to wear a handgun, but he had no problem being a first-class hunter with the weapon he held in his hands.
You all right?" he said.
Her face contorted as she nodded. "I got hit. Thank God my vest saved me." She showed him the indentation in front of her arm. "Man, it felt like getting kicked by a mule. I think I've got a couple of cracked ribs. I don't know what would have happened if Mike hadn't driven up in the back and diverted their attention."
"He's in the back?" Buck looked in that direction even though it was impossible for him to see anything.
"Yeah, I talked to him a minute ago. He came in as backup on the original domestic disturbance call. That's what brought me, a DD call a couple of doors down.”
She leaned back against the front wheel of the unit as she made a futile gesture with her hands. “At first I didn’t know what had happened, stunned, I guess. I suppose these people thought I was coming after them and opened up on me.”
”Why?” He studied her face. She had lost her hat, and her dishwater blonde hair crowded her face, but she was calm and disciplined, an ex-marine to the core. He hadn't been under fire before... but she had.
“I think we stumbled into some kind of drug deal or something. Whatever’s going on, they're pretty paranoid about it."
"I reckon so, firing on sight." Buck grimaced, at his age he couldn't squat very long, and his legs already complained.
If she saw his discomfort, she gave no sign of it. "At any rate, we've got them boxed. They aren't going anywhere."
Buck nodded. "What makes you think this is a drug thing? We haven't had any signs of that in town, outside of catching those punkers with marijuana joints, that is. Country folks generally don't take to that stuff."
"Yeah, trying to catch somebody underage with beer is more of a problem.” Carol shrugged. “I don't really know why I thought that, it's just what popped into my head."
Buck eased to a sitting position and leaned back against the unit. His legs continued to torment him, "I suppose that could be the case. I’m positive the Interstate is a drug pipeline running right past us, whether we’ve seen signs of it or not. I figured we were just too small to get caught up in it.”
The distracted look on his face passed and changed to a look of concern. “At any rate, you've done a good job. I don't guess you'd let me send you over to the hospital to get checked out, would you?"
The look she returned would freeze water. His grin spread to his eyes. "I didn't think so."
The radio crackled, and Mike's voice came on with, "Carol, Kenneth and two DPS troopers are back here with me now."
Buck reached over to get the microphone out of the patrol car, grateful for the chance to uncoil. "Okay, you sit tight now."
"Sure thing, Sheriff, didn't know you were there."
"I’m here. Dispatch, you copying this?" Buck released the button and got a positive response, then spoke to the dispatcher. "Penny, if you would, look up the phone number for this place. Call the phone company if you have to. I'm in the mood to talk to somebody."
He dialed the number she gave him into his mobile phone. Someone answered.
"Morning,” Buck said, “You folks is a mite testy in there, ain't you?"
"Who is this?" The husky voice had an unfamiliar accent, from back east, maybe.
"This is Sheriff Green. We're getting tired of sitting out here providing you boys with target practice. Why don't you pitch your hardware out the door and come out with your hands up, before you go and make me mad?"
"Not in this lifetime.” The accent continued to puzzle him. “Here's how things are going to go down, Sheriff. We're going to bust out of here and see how you backwoods yokels stack up against some real fire power. If you don’t want to get some people hurt, you better back off and give us a road out."
"Your choice, but I gotta tell you, my folks can hit birds on the wing with these shotguns, and I guarantee you'll never get halfway to your car no matter how much lead you throw out.”
Buck paused for effect. “Now, let me explain to you how I think this deal is going to ‘go down,’ as you put it. First, we're not going to put any shot into the air without a definite target, but if we see one, we'll hit it. Second, I'm not going to risk any officers by trying to rush you."
"Sounds like a standoff to me, Sheriff," the voice said.
"No, that's not exactly it, either. I don't plan to sit out here for a month while you decide whether or not to give up. I called over for Joe Bob to come running with that old bulldozer he's got. It's dang near the size of that whole house. When it gets here, I'm going to get up on top and drive that hoss right through the middle of the place.”
He paused again, then added. “Oh yeah, you folks feel free to waste as many bullets as you want on the big blade on the front. When I get through, the guys I have out back are real fine shots, particularly those state troopers, and they can pick off anything left over. If anything is left over, which I doubt will be the case."
Buck glanced over at Carol. The deputy had a quizzical look on her face as if she didn’t know if Buck was serious or not.
The phone was still silent, so Buck added, "I guess that's about it. I've always wanted to take a house down with one of those things. I guess to be fair, though, I ought to give you a few minutes to come out. I figure it'll take about five more minutes for the bulldozer to get over here, time starting about... now. It's your choice, so you let me know what you think."
Carol’s quizzical look faded, and she shook her head in disbelief.
There was still no response. After a minute or two, Buck told Carol, "I guess it ain't too smart for us to be sitting here with our back to them like we were on coffee break. They could slip right over here and do all sort of nasty things to us."
Carol started to get up and look, but he restrained her with a hand on her arm. "Wait." He took his hat off and balanced it on the barrel of the shotgun. "This always works for Roy Rogers," he said as he hoisted it slightly over the fender.
A shot sounded and a small hole appeared in the hat, spinning it around on the barrel.
He pulled it down and scowled at it. "Rats! They never hit Roy's good hat."
Carol sighed. "Looks like they're calling your bluff."
"What bluff?" Buck gestured with a nod of his head. She looked down the street to see a big D-4 Caterpillar bulldozer rumbling toward them with Joe Bob Taylor at the controls.

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