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Getting down off a roof with an armful of old, cracked shingles turned out to be trickier than getting up there with a fresh bundle, but I managed it without breaking my neck. I slid the ladder around and eased myself down rung by rung until my boots hit solid ground again. By the time I rounded the corner, Sheriff Webb had his little notepad out, scribbling something down while Mike stood there with his arms crossed, looking about as calm and easy as he always did, like nothing in the world could rattle him.

“Afternoon, Westley,” Sheriff Webb said, tipping his hat my direction. “Sorry to pull you away from your work, but Mike said you was here yesterday afternoon during the storm.”

“That’s right,” I nodded, glancing over at Mike. “We were working on the loose pews to keep out of the rain.”

“The neighbor’s house across the street got broken into during that time.” He looked up at me from his notepad. “Did you see anythin’ by chance?”

I shook my head, wiping my hands off on my jeans before I stuck one out to shake his. “No, sir. Can’t say I did. We were pretty well holed up inside the whole time, and with the rain comin’ down that hard, we didn’t even hear my daddy pull up.”

Sheriff Webb’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think James Gilderoy is the stealin’ type,” he said, scratching away on his paper. “But I’ll talk to him anyway. Maybe he saw somethin’.”

“I doubt he was payin’ any attention,” I sighed. “He’s pretty upset with me.”

“Understood. I’ll give him a call anyway, just to make sure,” Sheriff Webb said, writing a note for himself. “Worth askin’. Whoever did it took a couple of expensive power tools out of the garage and some cash off the counter. Sloppy work though. They left muddy prints all over the place. Probably kids, but we’ve still got that thief wanderin’ around that I still haven’t managed to catch.”

“Wish I could help more,” I said.

“You’re helpin’ plenty just by lettin’ me ask.” He tucked the notepad back into his breast pocket and glanced up at the roof, shading his eyes with one hand. “Looks like you got your work cut out for you up there.”

“Yes, sir. Didn’t realize how hot shingles could get till about an hour ago.”

That got a small huff of a laugh out of him, quiet and easy, and for a second his kind green eyes crinkled up at the corners in a way that made him look a whole lot less like the sheriff and a whole lot more like just a regular guy standing around on a hot afternoon. He had that way about him, friendly but careful, like he was always keeping some part of himself tucked back out of sight.

Mike must’ve caught something in the pause because he cleared his throat and stepped in easy as anything. “Marcus, while you’re here, you mind if I ask you somethin’? Might be good timin’ for both of you.”

“Go on,” Sheriff Webb said, tipping his hat back a little further.

“You still lookin’ for extra hands down at the station? With the fair comin’ up in a few weeks?”

“Christ, yes.” He let out a breath like just thinking about it tired him out. “Gonna have half the state comin’ through Sagebrush for that thing. I got exactly zero deputies and only myself and my secretary to get it all put together. Why, you know somebody?”

“I do, actually.” Mike nodded toward me. “Rhett Levi. He’s a good ranch hand, hard worker, and he’s lookin’ for steady work right about now.”

Something flickered behind the sheriff’s eyes at Rhett’s name, there and gone so fast I might’ve imagined it if I hadn’t been watching closely. “Rhett Levi,” he repeated slowly. “That the boy that had the trouble out at your daddy’s place, Westley?”

My stomach tightened up at the mention of it, but I kept my face even. “Yes, sir. Wasn’t his fault, though. Just some of the other hands lookin’ to stir up trouble.”

“I heard some version of that story,” Sheriff Webb said, and there was something careful in the way he said it, like he was choosing his words with a lot more thought than the conversation strictly called for. “Didn’t get the whole picture, though.”

“He’s a good man and my best friend,” I said, maybe a little too fast. “One of the best I know.”

The sheriff studied me for a second, and I had the distinct feeling he was reading a whole lot more into that sentence than I meant to let on, though I couldn’t have said what exactly. Then he nodded, slow, like he’d settled something in his own head.

“Well, tell him to come on down to the station tomorrow mornin’,” he said. “I could use the help, and Lord knows I ain’t got the luxury of bein’ picky right now with that fair breathin’ down my neck. Long as he don’t mind callin’ every single precinct from here to Austin to get the help we need, or takin’ payment at the front gate for parkin’. It’ll be steady pay for a few weeks, maybe longer if he does good work.”

“I’ll tell him,” I said, relief filling my chest. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Wait till he’s dealt with a couple hundred folks pissed about five dollar parking before you go singin’ my praises.” He offered a half smile, tipping his hat again toward Mike and Cash. “Preacher. Cash.”

“Take care, Marcus,” Cash said, lifting a hand. “And tell Xavier we said hello.”

Something shifted in the sheriff’s face at Cash’s mention of that name, a small smile lifting at the corners of his mouth. “Will do,” he said, giving him a tip of his hat. “You and Mike should come out to the house this weekend. We’ll grill steaks. And Xavier could use a little social time. He’s been a bit too wound up about this wedding out in LA he’s workin’ on.”

“We’ll be there,” Mike said, grinning. “Cash has been awfully jealous of that new smoker you two got.”

“I’ll make sure it’s runnin’ then. Y’all bring somethin’ sweet, and I’ll handle the rest.” Sheriff Webb tipped his hat one more time toward all of us before heading back to his truck, boots crunching over the gravel of the lot.

I watched him go, something nagging at the back of my mind that I couldn’t quite put a name to. There’d been a look on his face when Mike said Rhett’s name, quick and gone before I could really study it. But I just figured that was my daddy’s doing. He was probably running his mouth to anybody that would listen, trying to make Rhett look like the bad guy instead of himself.