“Are you sure you’re up to it?” asked Janice.
“If I can sit here, I can sit in town. Besides, we’re behind on the greenhouses, and winter has a way of sneaking up on the ill-prepared.”
* * * *
James was happy to be getting around again. Jason helped him roll over a few dirt ruts to get to the family trading booth. “It seems everyone in town wanted to come by and say hi today,” pointed out Lauren.
“Yeah, Daddy. You’re real popular around these here parts,” said Billy, testing out the new cowboy shtick he had practiced over the last week.
“It is nice to be liked, son, I suppose,” he replied.
“What do you think the strongman competition is all about?” asked Jason.
“I’m not sure. And better we don’t ask when the Sheriff comes over here to make an appearance. I’ll bet it’s not what any of us are expecting. I am looking forward to the motorcycle jump, though, if I’m honest,” replied James.
“How do you know he’ll stop by here?” Jason asked, feeling uneasy.
“Because he’s a politician first…and Jason, you need to work on that.”
“What?”
“That expression like you have to take a crap every time you see or even hear anything mentioned about Sheriff Johnson.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, I’m trying.”
“I know you are,” replied James.
Sheriff Johnson did stop by, as advertised, dragging Ken around to each booth and bragging about the upcoming jump.
So much for the masked jumper, thought Ken. Nearly everyone knew by noon that he was the one who would be jumping this afternoon.
“I think you’re going to like what we’ve got planned, James,” said the Sheriff, pulling him aside.
“Oh, and before I forget. I let Judge Lowry go,” said Sheriff Johnson.
“Really? How did you decide that?” asked James.
“We just came to an understanding is all. He won’t be back, and if he stays away he’ll get to die of old age, if he’s lucky. He did give my deputies one hell of a car chase, though, in that old truck of his.”
* * * *
Ken had the afternoon to tool around on the bike but would need to end on a quarter tank of gas for the jump.
The Sheriff had two low-ranked deputies doing the last-minute preparations on the rodeo arena. The others were busy ensuring fair trade, but all would be on the clock this afternoon to ensure the guests’ safety as well as the containment of Richard and his opponent.
The air horn blew, as was the new normal to start and end the trade days, and traders packed up quickly, setting the required town donation on the ground in front of each booth, to be collected by truck and trailer.
“Everyone, please find your way to the front of the courthouse,” came the announcement over the loudspeaker. “Remember, the exhibitions will continue, rain or shine,” was heard as the first drops of rain splattered on the top of Ken’s helmet.
“Are you kidding me right now?” he asked, looking up to the sky. “All day nothing, and thirty minutes before my jump, you drop rain down on me.” Stay the course; it’s not all about you, he heard in his head—or maybe he said it out loud.
* * * *
People gathered around the front ramp on both sides, pointing to the top.
“Please, everyone. You will get a better view from the building’s side,” the Sheriff called out, “or you might just want to go around back to see if he sticks the landing.”
He nodded to Ken, signaling it was warm-up time.
“Come one, come all!” Sheriff Johnson called out, as if he were about to ride a lion around the town square. “We have two spectacular events coming right up, with a special surprise in the middle.”
The Sheriff made his way to where James was sitting and asked him to come up to the front.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he yelled through the bullhorn. “Today honors our Mayor for his heroic protection of some of our citizens a couple of weeks back, and our first death-defying stunt was one of my favorites growing up. In the spirit of the late, great Evel Knievel, I give you Ken, the Highflyer!”
The crowd cheered as Ken took a couple runs up to the ramp in classic jumper-style, waiving to the crowd.
“Eighty-two miles per hour,” he said to himself in a low voice… “Eighty-two…eighty-two.”
“One more practice run, and then let’s get to it,” called out the Sheriff as he passed by.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” Ken said only inside of his helmet, looking over at the Sheriff flanked on both sides—on one side was Kate and the other Ken’s current girlfriend. I need to get this done, he thought, before they all get too chummy and start talking about one couple getting invited over to dinner.
Vroom! He revved the engine, waving to the crowd. Vroom! He took off like it was the real deal, accelerating from first to second gear, pulling a quick wheelie for the enthused crowd, then shifting into third and fourth before slowing quickly, using both the front-hand and back-foot brakes… Seventy-three was the last speed he saw on the second-hand speedometer. That’s not bad, he thought. He was expecting to slip a bit in the light, steady drizzle.
Okay, Lord. This is it! Ken silently prayed. I know we don’t talk much, but you saved me the first time when I had a gun sighted on my chest, and ironically, I let the very same man go free that stopped it from happening. I guess what I’m saying, Lord, is that I’m a changed man, a better man than before you helped me out last time, and hopefully that’s enough to keep me alive. I do want to meet you eventually, but not today. Amen.
* * * *
“We’re ready!” called the Sheriff over the loudspeaker, startling Ken.
“Oh…uh…yeah,” he said, taking two deep breaths and checking his helmet chin strap. I can do this, he told himself, waving a final time to the hyped crowd of nearly 500. He took off smoothly, switching between gears, letting
