Free A Sheriff in Tennessee by Lori Handeland Page A

Right down to the doughnuts.”
    â€œIs that why you’re here?” she asked. “Because it’s different?”
    He shot her an unreadable glance. “What does it matter why I’m here?”
    â€œI need to know why a man like you, a man with your background, your training, would give it all up and come here.”
    â€œWhy do you need to know that?”
    â€œIt goes to character.”
    â€œMine?”
    â€œAnd mine. For the show.”
    â€œI see.” He rocked back on his heels, but he didn’t answer.
    Belle stifled the urge to sigh or snarl. She had a feeling she would be dragging information out of this man for the next few weeks; therefore, she’d better learn how to do it without annoying him, regardless of how much he annoyed her.
    â€œSo, why did you give it all up and come here?”
    â€œGive what up?”
    Aargh! Belle took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Sometimes that helped.
    â€œThe excitement, the danger, the opportunities for advancement?”
    He shook his head. “The violence, the drugs, the kids with guns. A never-ending wave of people I couldn’t help.”
    Any lingering sense of annoyance fled as understanding dawned on her like the sun bursting over the far mountains. Klein—bless him—had just handed Belle the perfect motivation for her character to come to a little town in Tennessee.
    He was already walking down Longstreet Avenue without her. Belle hurried to catch up. “Do you think you can help people here?”
    â€œHope so. This is the end of the line for me.”
    â€œEnd of the line? What does that mean?”
    â€œIf I can’t find a reason here, I’m not going to find one.”
    â€œA reason for what?”
    â€œBeing me.”
    Belle stopped; Klein kept right on walking.
    â€œWait!” she called. He paused, turned. “I don’t understand.”
    â€œNever mind. I get maudlin when I’m hungry.”
    Maudlin? What small-town sheriff used the word maudlin in conversation? What man used it? A man like Klein, who was no doubt better educated than anyone Belle had ever met.
    Belle studied Klein’s profile, wondering how much he would tell her about himself, today or any other day. Before she could come to a conclusion, irate barking began behind the door of the building they stood in front of. Klein mumbled what sounded like a curse and walked more quickly thanshe’d ever seen him walk. Belle glanced up to read the sign, just as a light came on upstairs.
    Civil War Museum. Well, that sounded interesting. She’d have to check out the place later.
    Headlights blazing, a truck roared into town, then parked in front of the grocery store. Belle caught up to Klein just as he began to talk, as if he hadn’t even noticed she was no longer at his side.
    â€œJesse Wright, son of Joseph Wright—”
    Belle’s gaze skidded over the Wright Grocery Store sign and back to Klein’s pensive face.
    â€œJesse would like to move to the big city, as would most of the young people here, but he doesn’t have the money for college or the training for any other job except the one he has—driving the truck to Knoxville and bringing back produce. His father did it before him and his father before him.”
    â€œAnd before that?”
    Klein slid a glance her way. “Before that, they used a horse and wagon. But the son brought the supplies and the father ran the store.”
    â€œI’m beginning to see a pattern here.”
    â€œI thought you might.”
    â€œWhat if there’s a daughter but no son?”
    Another truck pulled out of the alleyway next to the newspaper office and headed out of town. “Cassidy Tyler owns and operates the Pleasant Ridge Gazette. Cass is the daughter you asked about. Runs the paper mostly on her own now. The circulation in this neck of the woods isn’t big enough to warrant a publisher and a truck driver. Her