Moonlight and Mistletoe

saying something that sounded like: “Halt, hold it right there!”

At the same time, the big black dog under his desk came to life. Snarling and barking, it tried to squeeze past Buck’s legs.

“Holy -” Buck grabbed at the edge of his desk so as not to be tipped out of his chair. “Hang on,” he managed to say to Atlanta as, in the outer office, Madelyne Smith’s voice hit a higher decibel.

The dog tangled for a brief second in Buck’s telephone wire, then jerked the receiver out of his hand before breaking free. The criminal investigation department continued to talk as the receiver swung off the edge of the desk.

Buck was wearing his gun. As Demon barreled past him his chair went over, dumping Buck to the floor. He still managed to clap his hand over his service revolver. A reflex action, he realized moments later, that was eminently prudent. For looking over the edge of his desk, Sheriff Buck Grissom saw a tall, gaunt figure with a flowing beard and disordered gray hair standing in the doorway. Holding a twelve-gauge shotgun pointed straight at him.

Buck didn’t need a description. It was Devil Anse. He was sure nobody else could look like that. From his position on the floor, the hardwood desk between them, it was clear they had the drop on each other.

“Sheriff,” he could hear his deputy shouting, “we got a – a armed intruder!”

“Stay back!” Buck yelled in answer.

He could have used some help right then from the huge dog. Like having it charge Ancil Scraggs and disarm him. But the animal obviously knew shotguns, for it dropped to the floor and lay there on its stomach.

“Sheriff,” Devil Anse said from the doorway, “I come about my female relations, Scarlett and Farrie, what is missing from home. I been told you got them somewheres around.”

Buck lowered himself even more behind the desk so as to minimize a possible blast from the shotgun. From there he could see a stretch of green office carpeting and, in the doorway, a pair of ancient black boots. He considered a bullet in the old man’s foot to disable him. He didn’t think it would work. Not before his desk got blown apart by the twelve-gauge.

“They don’t want to go home,” Buck told him.

“Well, I don’t doubt that,” the voice of Devil Anse replied. “Scarlett’s got a mind of her own, and the little one does what she tells her to. She ain’t easy to live with, Scarlett ain’t.”

Buck was finding that out.

“I don’t know what Scarlett told you,” Devil Anse continued. “She can spin a mighty good story when she gets going. But I ain’t about to force that girl to do nothing she don’t want to.”

Buck, recognizing a new element, thought that over and decided not to comment.

“No sirree,” the grating voice of Scraggs went on, “I ain’t going to trade Scarlett off to Loy Potter’s boy for his new pickup truck. Not if I get a better offer.”

Buck couldn’t help it. He looked around the edge of the desk. “You what?”

“That’s right, Sheriff.” The old man stood leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb, shotgun now resting in the crook of his arm. The fierce, biblical prophet face, surrounded by dirty flowing gray hair, looked almost benign. “Scarlett’s a rare piece,” he said with relish. “Better looking than her maw before she ran off with that Tennessee guitar player.” He paused. “Now, Sheriff, I allus look to where I can make a good trade, anybody who knows me will tell you that. And Scarlett needs a settlin’ hand. Ain’t nothing sinful – Potter’s boy is willing to marry her.”

Buck sat back on his heels. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The old degenerate made it sound like he was trading off a hunting dog. Instead of a perfectly able-bodied – desirable – human being.

For a damned pickup truck.

“What about the little girl?” Buck said carefully.

“Farrie Fawcett?” The raspy voice turned ingratiating. “That’s a delicate subject, Sheriff. She gets about funny on those skinny little legs, don’t she? A regular little hobgobler. I’d be willing to turn her over to the county, see what they could do for her.”

Turn her over to the county? Buck choked down a surge of wrath. The cold- blooded old devil – the kid was his grandchild!

“Now Sheriff, let’s do some straight talking.” The voice in the doorway was sly. “In past days I have accommodated the law around heres to mutual benefit. Oh, not with your daddy, son – he was a man who shied away from anything that might even look like a purely good-hearted, generous gift with no strings attached.”

Buck suddenly stood up, his gun leveled at Devil Anse’s potbelly. “What’s this about my dad?” he growled.

The old man looked surprised. “Lord, son, didn’t I just say it ain’t got nothing to do with yore daddy, may God rest his soul? We’re talking about you. One thousand dollars, cash, and Scarlett’s yours.”

For a minute Buck was too stunned to speak. Then he felt a wash of red rage begin at his ears.

“Dirt cheap, too,” the old man added sincerely. “Considering the good amount of cash young Potter said he would throw in on top of the ninety-three Dodge.”

“You -” Buck began in a strangled voice.

His reaction plainly pleased Devil Anse.

“It’s a bargain, ain’t it?” The old man smiled a broken-toothed smile. “But Sheriff, I’m willing to make this sacrifice if it means a new, friendly feeling between this office and the Scraggs family business interests. I’ll be honest with you, boy, since you took over from yore daddy it’s been a real economic hardship for us in the Scraggs line of liquor services and auto parts supply. I want you to look at Scarlett as a public relations gesture of future goodwill and cooperation. On both sides.”

“Your family business interests? Is that what you call them?” A pulse was pounding in Buck’s head. “Liquor services and auto parts supply? ”

“Son,” Devil Anse said gently, “words like ‘boot-legging’ and ‘car stealing’ are out of date, don’t you know that? Now Scarlett, if I tell her so, she’ll stay with you. And mark my words, yore bound to get yore money’s worth. No man’s laid a hand on -”

“Money’sworth?” Buck managed to bark. “You old viper! Are you trying to bribe a law-enforcement officer?”

He started around the desk, gun in hand. Devil Anse backed into the corridor.

“Sheriff, ‘bribe’ ’s an ugly word,” the old man protested. “I’d hoped not to hear words like that between us. Not about an honest little gift or two. The girl’s staying at yore house, ain’t she?”

Reluctantly, Buck stopped.

Devil Anse looked triumphant. “Didn’t think I knew? Well, no telling what’s already happened.” He gave a truly repulsive wink. “Why don’t you think of Scarlett as a – trial offer? Money back if you ain’t satisfied, as they say on TV? You keep her a while, and if she don’t give you -”

Buck was outraged by the sheer gall of the old man. He started for him. And tripped over Demon, who was under his feet.

“Dammit!” Buck exploded.

He staggered, stepped on the dog’s tail, and to the accompaniment of its anguished howls managed to reel forward and hit his shoulder on the doorjamb. But, thankfully, not his nose. In the outer office he could hear his deputy’s warning shouts, Madelyne’s shrieks.

When he looked up, the old man was gone. Buck stood rubbing his shoulder,