“Here’s the thing, Royal. We’ve worked together in the past, and you’ve always done what was needed for my office. I thought you believed in the law, above all else. Now it’s all backward. I get that you never liked me much personally, but when did that become so professional?”

Royal set his mug down carefully. “Because I’m not sure you’re good at your job, Sheriff. Maybe the job is too big for you, and you know what? That’s okay. A man should be able to admit that, it’s no failing. Since Ross died, there’s been nothing but chaos in the Big Bend, and that’s all been on you. Not every man can be Sheriff Ross.”

Chris laughed and shook his head. “Thank God for that. What do you think it cost to buy all that peace and quiet?” Having Sheriff Ross’s “peace” thrown in his face made Chris flash back to his talk with Garrison about Sheriff Machado over in Terrell County. What was the price of Chuy and Johnnie Machado’s success? And were they being paid with the same bloody money?

Royal tapped his fingers on the table, making sure Chris got his point: one, two, three. “I knew the man. I know what he did for Murfee and the Big Bend. Everything he sacrificed.”

“Sacrificed? You know only what he showed you. Don’t think because two thousand people stood there at his funeral that he was a decent man, that he was loved and respected. Some of those people were there to make sure he was actually going in the ground.”

“Like your deputy, Ms. Reynosa? Or that new boy, Marco Lucero?”

“Right. ‘It’s OUR Big Bend.’ Isn’t that the slogan? There are more Hispanics in this county than folks like you and me, Royal. You can’t ignore them, and I believe most people don’t want to. They’re part of this community. That’s not changing.”

“Well, you better hope they vote. Each and every one of them. You should probably save all those arguments for the debate next week.”