“No thank you,” Skinner said, taking a seat on a log, his old knees raising up toward his chest, feeling the changing of the seasons down in his joints. “We sure do appreciate you coming here, Senator. And for everything you do for our little ole backwoods county. You’re a true Mississippian through and through.”

Vardaman studied Skinner in the firelight, his longish face and swept-back gray hair looking almost damn-near royal. Skinner couldn’t have been more damn proud to have a man like this rooting for Tibbehah County.

“I tried talking some sense into your sheriff.”

“And?” Skinner asked.

“Just like you said,” Vardaman said. “He just wants to make trouble for us, poke right at the working man who supports him, pays his salary, and feeds his family. He’s not gonna stop until he makes a damn mess of things happening a long time back.”

“Don’t you worry,” Skinner said. “Don’t you worry about nothin’, sir. I got that all taken care of. Everyone’s done something in their past to be ashamed of. But if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us of all unrighteousness.”

“Amen to that,” Vardaman said, toasting Skinner with his cup of whiskey.

“That’s what’s been done. Right?” Skinner asked, removing his hat, playing with the brim in his hand. “You’ve asked for forgiveness and now walk with our Lord a new man?”

“Absolutely, sir,” Vardaman said. “No doubt. I sure do appreciate your support. Now, would you mind walking back to my bus and filling up this cup? It’s a damn lovely night under the stars.”

“For what?” Skinner asked, studying the man through the smoke.

“Watching the fire,” he said. “Don’t you just love the smell of smoke?”

Episode 5: The Sheriff