“But you sure got ’em,” Lovemaiden said. “Yes, sir. You sure did. That woman marshal shooting down Fannie Hathcock. I laughed and laughed when I heard about that. That Lillie Virgil don’t take no lip, shot that redheaded bitch down like a dog. No offense to ole Hondo.”

“She believed Hathcock was going for her weapon.” Quinn scratched Hondo behind the ears, the dog still wanting to get closer to the car.

“Which one?” Lovemaiden said. “A gun or a damn hammer? Yes, sir. I heard all the stories about Fannie Hathcock. Last few years, our little ole county hadn’t been nothing but a cut through up to that titty bar. Horny kids from State not being able slow down on account of those wild women.”

“That’s all over,” Quinn said.

“For now.”

“For good,” Quinn said. “Place shut down last year. County supervisors outlawed nude dancing in Tibbehah. State took over that old airstrip she’d been running. We just want that mess behind us.”

“Glad to hear it,” Lovemaiden said, slamming the trunk and removing his rubber gloves. He tossed them into a ditch and then turned his head and spit again. “Guess y’all got tired of being the punch line about all that’s bad down south.”

“Come again?”

“Apologies, Sheriff,” Lovemaiden said as they began to walk back to the highway, his arms again slinging to and fro like an ape. The light flickered through the overhead oak branches, buds just forming on the trees. “I know it weren’t easy sliding into your uncle’s boots. I knew Hamp Beckett well and he was a hell of a lawman.”

“He also made a lot of mistakes,” Quinn said. “And one or two moral failings.”

“Sheriff Beckett said sometimes you got to go along to get along. How about that?”

“I heard that a time or two,” Quinn said. “Not exactly original.”

Lovemaiden hitched up his gun belt and nodded, his lower lip poking out. “Maybe,” he said. “But that old man had been around a long time. That age and wisdom ain’t something you can buy. No, sir. That’s something those old boys earned. Your uncle kept that county business contained. That’s for damn sure. You might study on that sometime.”

Lovemaiden winked. Quinn stared back.

“I’ll be sending a truck,” Quinn said.

He walked off and helped Hondo back up into the Big Green Machine. The dog could get out fine, but the getting in had started to be a problem. Quinn started the engine and U-turned on the back road, a cold breeze blowing through the truck as he looked in his rearview. Sheriff Lovemaiden hung by his patrol car and waved him a pleasant goodbye.

*   *   *

“Where the hell you been?” TJ Byrd asked.