Wendy Klopfenstein
“I said let my pa go.” Belle stood toe to toe with Sheriff Jim Bentley, the burliest man alive.
“And I said no.” He barreled the words back at her.
“Then I confess.” She had no other choice. Her father needed medical attention he couldn’t get in this town. Despite her pa’s wandering ways, he’d not robbed a bank.
Sheriff Bentley’s face turned all shades of gray. No doubt he didn’t want to lock up a woman in his jail. “You can’t.”
“I did.”
The sheriff’s face reddened, then he turned to his deputy. “Unlock her pa. Get him to the doc in Tucson. No argument.”
After saying goodbye to her pa, Belle followed the sheriff to a cell.
“I’ll take that bag.” He reached out his rough hand for the bag she’d toted with her.
“It’s all the things I’ll be needing.” Belle clutched it close. It held her rose soap, change of dress, a book, a stack of cards, hair ribbons, and a bit of yarn to knit. She’d had a suspicion he’d lock her up and packed accordingly.
“This is jail.” He didn’t budge.
She stared back until her arm grew tired, then handed over her bag. “The children in town are right. You are a beast.”
His jaw worked at the reference to his nickname, Sheriff Beastly, even as he closed the door to her cell.
As night fell, the crickets chirped outside while Belle cried herself to sleep.
Belle awoke to find her book resting on the bed beside her. She pushed her loose brown curls from her eyes. She glanced out her cell bars. The sheriff sat at his desk.
He side-eyed her but kept shuffling papers. “Why don’t you read it aloud?”
Belle studied him, thankful that those startling green eyes of his focused away from her. She picked up her book, reading until her voice grew hoarse. When noon came, the Sheriff brought her lunch then left his deputy in charge.
She peered into the bowl. Beans. He really was a beast.
All afternoon, she tried to occupy herself. The deputy never answered more than a grunt when she talked to him.
Finally, Sheriff Bentley returned.
“Here’s an extra blanket. Might get cold tonight.” He pushed it through the bars. “And I telegraphed Tucson. Your pa is recovering well.”
In slow motion, she reached for the blanket, wondering what game he was playing.
When the sun dawned, Belle rolled over, knocking her pack of cards from her cot. The sheriff allowed her out of her cell that morning. He even played a game with her. She shuffled her cards as he fumbled through his file cabinet.
“I can organize that for you.” The words slipped out before she’d had time to think.
He nodded. Did she see a hint of a smile?
After helping him organize the cabinet, she ate her meal. Fried chicken this time. Then she read aloud until the deputy came to relieve the sheriff.
“Maybe tomorrow we’ll learn what happens next.” The sheriff tilted his lips up in a grin as he left.
The day after, she found her yarn. He’d even left her knitting needles. Belle studied them. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll pick the lock?”
He let out a chuckle.
“Why don’t you read first? You can use the yarn when I make my rounds.”
“You like my company, then?” Belle grinned to herself.
“I like the story.”
Belle didn’t hide her smile. Each day, her food was more appealing. Maybe today she’d get a piece of pie.
A week later, the warm sun woke her. She turned over in expectation. Nothing. She patted the cot, then shook out the covers. No surprise awaited her. Her heart sank. Only yesterday he’d left her hair ribbons. She’d caught the sheriff watching her fix her hair with an appreciative sort of stare. It’d warmed her inside.
She expected him at the desk, sending her a squint, then half a smile. But the deputy sat there instead.
“Where’s Sheriff Bentley?” He wasn’t Sheriff Beastly to her anymore. If it wasn’t so improper, she’d call him Jim.
“Out. Told me to take you to his sister’s place when you woke.”
Belle gathered her things to follow the deputy. He didn’t object to her taking them. At Miss Bentley’s, the woman greeted her kindly. “My brother thought you’d want to freshen up after so long in the jail.”
His sister led her to a room with a tub of warm water then left her. Her bar of rose soap waited by the tub. She sank into the water, washing off the grime. When she finished, she discovered the dress she’d packed hanging on the peg by the tub.
A rap sounded at the door. Belle opened it in a hurry, wanting to thank Miss Bentley. Her father stood there instead.
“Pa.” She threw her arms around his neck.
“There, child. I’m all well. Thanks to your friend, the sheriff.” Her pa took a step back to reveal the sheriff standing behind him with his hat in his hand.
“You look mighty pretty.”
He’d always been a nice-enough-looking man, but standing there all clean-shaven, he was handsome beyond measure.
“Am I going back to jail?” Her voice squeaked in her throat.
Her father placed a hand on her shoulder. “He caught the real bank robbers.”
“No more jail?” She suspected she’d miss reading to him.
“No more jail.” He fiddled with his hat.
“Don’t you want to know how the story ends?”
“I hope the hero gets the girl.” Those green eyes stared right into her. “There’s a dance tonight. With your father’s permission, if you don’t still think I’m a beast, would you do me the honor—”
“A beast? No. I think you’re a prince of a man.” She bounced on her feet, eager to be off to the dance with the one who’d shown her and her father so much kindness.
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Spark Flash Fiction 