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“Huh. So, no coffee?”
Gray shook his head. “Keep up, Frank, we covered that already.”
“Right,” Frank said with a wink.
“Actually, Sheriff,” Martha said. “I was bringing you this along with your lunch, which I will have to go remake,” she said with a glare at Frank. “But you can take this with you now.”
She handed him a shiny new kettle and a small bag of ground coffee.
“Oh, well thank you kindly, Miss Martha.”
She smiled, then turned one last glare on Frank before continuing gathering up the mess in the street.
“I’ll take the pot,” Mercy said, plucking it from Gray’s hands before he could object. “You’ve got your hands full.”
They both looked down at Frank, and Gray sighed.
Jason came rushing down the stairs from his new apartment and hurried over to help Martha.
“Sorry, Sheriff. I didn’t realize there’d been trouble.”
“Not trouble so much as Frank here having a few coordination issues. And don’t call me sheriff.”
Jason opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. “But youarethe sheriff.”
Gray grimaced at him.
“You know,” Jason said with a grin, “if we’re going to be colleagues, I should probably call you something more familiar. To reflect our new working relationship.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“I think I’ll call you Woody.”
“You do and I’ll shoot you.”
“What? It’s friendly. Makes you seem more approachable.”
“I don’t want to seem friendly or more approachable.”
Jason grinned again. “I like it. Woody it is.”
Gray turned to Mercy. “Please let me kill him.”
She just smiled and patted his cheek. “No more killing. For today, anyway, Woody.” She walked back to his office, her laughter echoing across the street. Gray sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He should have turned tail and run the second he’d come across Desolation.
“Fine. You can call me Sheriff.”
Jason nodded and then turned back to helping Martha. Gray bit his lip to keep from grumbling. It had probably been ridiculous to fight him on it to begin with. Hewasthe sheriff, after all. But he didn’t think he was ever going to get used to that.
Jason righted the cart that had been knocked over and scooped up the plate that had held Gray’s lunch. “That’s a shame,” Jason said. “That looked good.”
Martha blushed. “There’s more on the stove. I’d be happy to bring you some when I bring over the sheriff’s.”
“Well, that would be real kind of you, thank you, Miss Martha.”
Gray looked back and forth between the two, but they weren’t paying any attention to him.
“So, you just stay and,” Gray waved his hand to encompass the mess in the street, “help her take care of all that.”
