Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel Read Free Page A

Lester was surprised to hear from one of his former deputies, but extended an invitation to come out and take a look. If he liked the area —and pending county budget approval—he could go to work immediately. The very next day Billy Ray headed for Boise City, hoping to get his old life back.
    Harley had his muzzle all over the young man, begging for attention, his tail wagging ninety miles an hour. Billy Ray knew the drill and looked for a stick to throw. Inside, Lester checked his uniform. He wasn’t sure how many days he had worn the same shirt. He sniffed the armpits, shrugged, and slipped it on. There were matching pants of course, but Lester never wore them, opting for his familiar and far more comfortable Wrangler blue jeans. The alligator cowboy boots followed, also a little worse for wear. A Stetson straw hat hung on a peg near the front door and he grabbed it on the way out. His sidearm, a Colt .45 revolver along with the belt and cartridges, he carried outside and carefully lay in the seat of the County’s F-150 Ford pickup. Naturally, the county had wanted him to drive their old Ford sedan , a six year old model with 150,000 miles on it , but Lester had made it plain; Get me a 4-wheel drive pickup or find another man for the job.
    “B.R., you gonna dick around with that dog all day or are we gonna go fight crime?” As the deputy stepped to the passenger side of the truck, Harley gave his owner an inquiring look. “Not today buddy, maybe next time. You stay now, you hear?” The dog sank to the ground, its amber eyes pleading. “No. You be a good dog. I’ll see you this evening.”
    As they pulled out of the drive, Lester gave the Camaro an admiring look . “For a fifteen year old car, that thing still looks pretty good. Been slapping the polish to it I’d guess. You got it shinin’ like a diamond in a goat’s ass. How’s it run?”
    “Faster than you wanna know.”
    “Don’t doubt that. I catch you breakin ’ the speed limit; I’ll give you a ticket so fast, it’ll make your head spin.
    Billy Ray grinned. “What’s the story on this missing girl? Only thing Nelda told me was that she didn’t come home last night.”
    “Oh, I don’t know. It’s probably nothin ’ . You know how teenagers are.”
    “I do,” Billy Ray said, “but I’m surprised that you remember, old as you are.” Lester checked for traffic before pulling onto the blacktop and eased the truck up to the 60 mile an hour speed limit.
    “Keep that kind of talk up and I’ll jerk you out of that seat and show you just how old I am.” Billy Ray smiled but said nothing, watching the scenery slide by. A good sized herd of Black Angus cattle, fifty or more, grazed along a grassy depression on the north side of the road, the sun dancing on and off their coats as they moved. Up ahead, a Red-tailed Hawk sat on a weathered fence post, its sharp eyes watching the short grass along the highway for any movement, not bothering to look up as the Ford sped past.
    “You know what I like about this part of Oklahoma?” Billy Ray said. “It has a beauty all its own. All these plains, uncluttered, clean air, and you can see for miles. No cities, at least no big cities, just a few little towns for things you need; doctors, hardware, and groceries, things like that.”
    “I hear you,” Lester agreed. “I sure don’t need to be dealing with gangs, and killings, and bank robberies. No sir. Just give me a few speeders and drunks and maybe a larceny now and then. I’ve had all the excitement in my life I want.”
    “Afghanistan was all I needed,” Billy replied.
    The S heriff shot his deputy a look. The young man continued to wear his hair military style, close on the sides with a small brush up top. Physical fitness remained a priority in Billy Ray’s civilian life, thick through the chest, his biceps plainly visible and bulging beneath his khaki shirt. He was lean around the middle, even more so than the skinny sheriff, and confirmed