BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - GENERAL

BADKARMA00

Blue Blood – Chapter Ten
Monday, December 17, 2007

Sheriff, meet Shade


CATEGORY: FICTION    TIMES READ: 2032    RATING: 0    SERIES: FIREFLY

Blue Blood – Chapter Ten Write owns no rights of any kind to Firefly and intends no copyright infringements. I’m making no money for this, and write only for my own enjoyment. ------------------- Grippen looked at the bounty notice on River Tam again, noting that the contact information hadn’t been changed. He had intended to call again, let the Sun Bonding Company know that their agents had not only failed, but died in their failure. There was always the chance that he would find someone more. . .considerate than the last two. But there was no one to contact. He had, through some judicious searching, discovered that the Sun Bonding Company didn’t exist. Which begged the questions who were the men that had answered his wave, and who, exactly, or what, was River Tam? He’d been lucky, he admitted to himself. It had been a stroke of good fortune that the plant had been closed for whatever reason. No one had seen him, and his involvement in what had happened was known to none. He was sure there was still a way to make money from this, and to stick a good one in Reynolds’ eye at the same time. He’d figure it out. He shut off the cortex, and left his office. “Evelyn, I need to go out to Guilford’s,” he told his secretary. “Had a bit of a tussle out there yesterday. That damn Reynolds’ and his bunch again, I’m sure. I’ll be back late, I imagine. Be sure and let the boys know.” “Yes, sir,” Evelyn smiled sweetly, and he returned it. She was dumber than a rock, Grippen thought, but she was pretty to look at, and did a fair job in the office. See you later,” he told her, and walked outside. It was nearing noon, and the sun was high, though the weather was cool. Winter was almost on them. He walked over to his mule, climbing aboard without a glance. He fired the vehicle up and nosed it onto the road, heading out of town. He’d gone about three miles when he suddenly felt a very cold, very sharp, edge under his chin. “Just turn off the road up here a piece,” a cold voice whispered in his ear. “Me and you need to have a talk.” Grippen eased the vehicle off the road as ordered. He was about to demand what the hell this was about when a crushing blow fell on his head. The Sheriff slumped forward, out cold. --------------------- Grippen came around slowly, his head pounding. As he tried to rub his aching head, he realized that his arms wouldn’t move. Coming wide awake at that discovery, the Sheriff found himself tied to a chair, unable to touch the floor with his feet, or move more than a slight wiggle. He was in some kind of old hut, he thought, and could smell the rancid waters of the Marsh. As he looked around for some sign of where he might be, his eyes finally came to rest on a very large figure, who was sitting nearby, looking at him. “Look who’s awake,” the figure spoke, and Grippen realized, with a sense of dread, that it was Reynolds’ merc. Cobb. “What the hell are you playin’ at?” Grippen demanded, struggling against his bonds. “I’ll have you in prison for the rest of your life for this!” Cobb just laughed, rising from his chair. ““You can save your threats, Sheriff,” Jayne told him. “I’m not interested, and you won’t be in any position, ever again, to threaten me or anyone else, soon.” Grippen’s eyes widened at that. “I’m glad you’re finally awake, Sheriff,” the mercenary said calmly. “I was getting tired of waiting for you. See, I could have just killed you, and been done with it, but I wanted you to know. Know who, and know why.” “See, you made a mistake, Sheriff,” he went on calmly. “You tried to hurt my woman. The only person in the entire ‘verse I really care anything about. Hadn’t been for that, it would never have come to this. But you couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could you?” “Look, Cobb,” Grippen licked suddenly dry lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let me go, and we’ll just forget this whole thing, right?” Jayne chuckled. “Not so bad, now, are you, Grippen? Funny how that happens to guys like you, ain’t it.” “Cobb, I ain’t done nothing to you!” Grippen said urgently. “I ain’t got no idea. . .” “I said save it!” Jayne snapped, and Grippen fell silent. “You tried to turn my woman over to those Blue freaks. Only you ain’t got no idea what she’s been through, what they did to her. And you’d o’ just give her back to’em.” Jayne drew his knife, and Grippen paled. “I can’t show you exactly what they did,” Jayne told him softly. “But maybe I can give you an idea. Just a taste, mind.” ---------------------- People would later report that they had heard screaming in the marsh around Guilford’s property that afternoon. Older hands would tell of a beast they called the Marsh Monster, a wild half-man, half-something that prowled the vast marshes. Younger ones would scoff at that, and claim it was a wildcat. Or some other beast, caught in a trap. A few even claimed it was a man, fallen prey to one of the wild creatures that called the marsh home. Mal heard it, and fought of a shiver. He knew better. Jayne had been gone since mid-morning. He was the only one that wasn’t surprised by the explosion later that evening, as the sun was sinking. The marsh was lit up for a few brief seconds, but the fire didn’t last more than a few minutes in the damp area. Jayne came up a little while later. He was freshly bathed, and was wearing clean clothes. Mal looked at him sharply, but Jayne merely nodded. “Evening, Mal.” “Jayne,” Mal replied, uneasy. “Headed over to see River,” Jayne went on, as if he’d been at work all day. “Need me for anything?” “No,” Mal answered quietly. “We got it covered, Jayne.” “Need me, call me,” Jayne said amiably, and walked away. Mal watched him go, not knowing what else to do. Or how to do it. ------------------ The disappearance of Sheriff Grippen was a mystery that would never be solved. His vehicle was found on the roadside, some four miles from town. The vehicle was undamaged, and nothing was missing from it. A search of the area was mounted, continuing for days. No sign of the Sheriff was ever found. In all the uproar over the Sheriff’s disappearance, no one took notice of the explosion of a pocket of swamp gas, out in the Marsh. It wasn’t uncommon, and with fifty miles between the area of the fire, and the sheriff’s vehicle, no one could see any connection, anyway. The crew of Serenity walked on eggshells for several days, dreading the time that someone would put two and two together. George Harwell had to know, Mal decided, but the business man carried on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. River was up and around the day after the excitement. She and Jayne spent a long time cloistered away from the others, talking in hushed tones. No one knew just exactly what was said. There was no denying that River was calmer, more centered, after they had talked, however. She moved with a new confidence. Everyone noted it, but no one said anything, preferring to let things be. Had they asked, she would likely have just smiled, anyway. The simple truth was that River Tam, for the first time in many years, felt completely safe. Unafraid. Yes, she was capable of taking care of herself. No one could deny that. But her feelings were derived from the fact that she didn’t have to. Because of one man. One man who stood by her, and stood between her and anyone wishing her harm. -------------- It was almost two weeks after the fireball in the swamp that George Harwell wanted to see Mal. Mal walked the distance to the office with a feeling of dread, wondering if they would loose their contract. As he entered the office, everyone smiled at him, offered greetings. Mal returned them, relieved that at least the general public was unaware of Jayne’s. . .activities. “Come in Mal!” Harwell said warmly, when Mal knocked on the open door. Mal hid his surprise, entering the room. “Sit down, sit down,” Harwell urged. “Can I get you a taste?” “No, sir, I’m good,” Mal shook his head. This wasn’t what he’d expected. “I expect you’ve heard about Grippen?” Harwell asked, and Mal fought the urge to swallow. “‘Spect everyone has,” he nodded. “Terrible thing to have happen.” Harwell smirked at that. “I’m sure you were broken up over it,” he replied, and Mal’s face reddened. “Just trying to be nice,” he offered lamely, and Harwell snorted. “Why waste the time. Whatever happened to him was too good for him, far as I’m concerned.” Mal thought about those screams, what had caused them, and wondered. He’d never asked Jayne, and the big man had never offered. Probably never would. “Anyway,” Harwell continued, “I wondered if you were aware that the parish board will be appointing a new sheriff to fill the rest of Grippen’s term?” “No, sir, I wasn’t,” Mal replied truthfully, wondering what this had to do with him. “They are,” Harwell told him. “This parish is huge, almost a thousand square miles. We hold elections every six years, and Grippen was only in his second year of this term. So whoever they appoint will serve out the rest of this term, just over four years, before the next election.” “I wasn’t the only one who had suspicions about Grippen, it turns out. There are several things that are coming to light, one of which is the control he had over the criminal element in the parish. Grippen was taking a cut from every illegal operation running.” “Somehow, that ain’t surprising,” Mal offered into the silence. “No,” Harwell sighed. “It isn’t. Thing is, the rot goes pretty deep. And the Board of Commissioners wants to be sure that who ever they appoint to fill the rest of this term is honest. Especially seeing as how that person will have a good leg up on being elected to the post when the elections roll around.” “Makes sense,” Mal agreed, wondering again why Harwell was going over all this with him. “I want you to take the job, Mal,” Harwell dropped the bomb all at once, and Mal sat still, certain he’d heard wrong. “What?” Mal croaked. “I want you to take the job,” Harwell repeated. “You’ve proven that you’re capable, and I trust you. My trust has earned you the trust of several others. Truth is, I have the votes I need to have you appointed already. The only thing I need, now, is for you to agree.” Stunned would have been a good word to describe Mal’s reaction. If he could have thought of any words. Mal’s mouth worked for several seconds, as if trying to form words, but none would come. Finally, he managed to croak out; “You’ve got to be kiddin’!” “I’m not kidding at all,” Harwell assured him. “You and your people have made this your home. And you’ve proven you’re capable, and dependable. I won’t lie, Mal, it will be a rough job. Several of the men Grippen hired want the job, and will likely be sullen, at best, when you take over. And the criminal element is accustomed to running amuck, pretty much, so long as they padded Grippen’s pockets.” “You’ll definitely have your work cut out for you. But the commissioners have assured me, and several other ‘concerned citizens’, that you will have their full support.” “Mister Harwell. . .George,” Mal stammered. “I. . .I’m flattered, to be sure, but I’m hardly. . .I ain’t. . .” Mal stopped to try and gather his thoughts. Finally he tried again. “George, there’s been many a time I’ve wound up on the wrong side o’ the law myself. I just. . .I can’t no ways see how I could qualify to be your sheriff.” “All in the past,” Harwell waved the objections away. “No one here cares what you’ve done in the past. Truth is,” he confided, “we’re about a half-step away from a full blown crisis, right now. And we don’t have much time before the situation gets out of hand. We’ve got to have someone with a firm hand, and backbone, to fix things. ” “I want that someone to be you, Mal,” Harwell said flatly. “I don’t know another man in the parish who could do as well, let alone better. You’ve proven that over the last year, so far as I’m concerned. And I’m not the only one who thinks so,” he added, nodding toward the door. Mal turned. Braz Guilford was standing in the door, leaning heavily on his cane. “I would very much like you to at least consider this, Malcolm,” the old man told him. “It would mean a great deal to me. To us. And,” he added, eyes twinkling, “it would place you in a very good place to protect your crew from outsiders. Most of them will always go through your office.”

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