Free Rumble on the Bayou by Jana DeLeon

wall. It also gave him a lot more incentive to tread lightly where Dorie was concerned. "How long has he been like that?" Richard asked, wondering briefly if the chair made the man less dangerous or simply frustrated him, making him more dangerous.
     
    “ In a wheelchair, you mean?" Joe straightened up and put the tire gauge in his jeans pocket. "I guess it would be about ten years or so, maybe closer to eleven. Heart problems left him partially paralyzed."
     
    "Ten or eleven years?" Richard asked, surprised. "Why is he still sheriff? He can't possibly perform the job."
     
    Joe studied him for a minute before answering. "People around here still elect him because they know Dorie will be here to do the job. Places like he's staying aren't cheap. He needs to draw the salary."
     
    "What about Dorie's mother? Does she help at all?"
     
    Joe stiffened and a sudden chill settled over them. "Dorie doesn't have a mother, and no one in Gator Bait speaks about it, least of all to Dorie. You'll do yourself a big favor to do the same." Joe turned and walked into the sheriff's office, the door swinging shut behind him.
     
    Richard looked at the man through the plate glass window, then back across the street at the boat shop. That woman was quickly becoming one of the most interesting people he had ever come across. And not necessarily in a good way.
     
    Deciding he had inflamed and irritated enough people for the morning, Richard headed across the street to the motel. He needed to get permission to release some information to Dorie, and he already dreaded calling his boss.
     
    ***
     
    Dorie took her time at the boat shop, silently daring Richard to interrupt her. But when seconds turned into minutes and he didn't stalk through the door demanding her attention, she grew bored with the boat-shop chatter, paid for her part, and crossed the street to the sheriff's office.
     
    Joe was sitting at his desk when she came in, typing up a form. "Where the hell is Dick?" she asked.
     
    Joe shrugged, never lifting his eyes from the typewriter. "Guess he had something else to do."
     
    "Did he say that?"
     
    "No. But he didn't follow me in here, so I figure he had something else to do."
     
    Dorie shook her head in exasperation. "Joe, did any part of this morning's fiasco bother you at all?"
     
    He looked up from the typewriter and considered her question for a moment. "Guess not." He turned back to the typewriter.
     
    "And why the hell not?" What was wrong with the man? Did he like being insulted and bossed by Dick?
     
    He blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair, finally understanding that he was not going to be allowed to finish his report until this conversation was over. "It was a waste of time, really. I figure the sheriff set him straight, or you straight, or quite possibly, the both of you."
     
    Dorie bristled. "I did not need to be set straight. I'm fully aware of my responsibilities. But I notice you didn't feel the need to stick around."
     
    "No point. The sheriff didn't need my help, and besides, Dick's problem is with you."
     
    "I give up," she said and grabbed her boat keys off the desk. "I'll be out in the marsh. Hopefully, dying of exposure. If Mr. Condescending shows up, you tell him I have a job to do, and it doesn't include waiting around on him." She stalked out of the sheriff's office, slamming the door behind her.
     
    Joe leaned back in his chair and smiled. Dorie was more than a little irritated by Big City, not that he blamed her. The man seemed to create aggravation almost instantly. But the interesting part of it all was if they took a moment to consider the situation from the outside, they'd see how much alike they were. Two more bullheaded people had never been made, and when they collided, the sparks were going to fly.
     
    Smiling, he started filing his paperwork, happy in the knowledge he already held a front-row seat to the show of the century. Dorie Berenger was going down for the count. He