“Ok – I’ll take over this horse’s ass mess right now!”

Sheriff Rebdone stood in the bar room doorway, a sinister shadow looming behind him. Homeland Security Liaison Special Agent Chuck Friendly (yes, seriously) couldn’t quite emerge from the freezing sleet to squeeze past yet another fine example of classic meat-and-potatoes Whipsaw cuisine.

Mad Max Redbone was known for living large. Big breeches, big cigars and big mouth. Usually followed by a huge mix breed dog called Stinker (due to its love of bar throw-away chili), Stinker was half cow and half Great Dane with a lick of werewolf thrown in. At some point in its puppyhood it had lost half an ear and one eye to an opportunistic coyote before Redbone took the strange mix under his ample wing. Rumor had it that Stinker was the only warm blooded creature, beside himself, that Max had any regard for at all.

Just before all cell phone service went ‘byby’, someone at the Bar had got a few paralyzing screams into the Sheriff’s ear. Being on his way to deliver Special Agent Friendly back to the comfort of his plane and civilization, the Sheriff informed the hapless liaison that a real issue of friggin security to HIS homeland was currently underway and they were going ‘huntin for towel-head bear!’

As they crested the ridge south of town, God took a hand at thoroughly screwing up the situation and closed the roads behind them.

Two more players had now joined the performance at Whipsaw Lake.

Deputy Studs Miller breathed a sigh of relief that whatever shit was about to hit the fan, someone with a far more ample butt than his was going to catch it in the items of anatomy he no longer had to worry about. In answer to being asked where the ‘perps’ were he pointed in opposite directions: to the walk in cooler, where the 2 hapless Pearly White’s had been moved, with one hand and and the B&B with the other. He announced he was now officially off duty, and ordered a double bourbon – or was that a bubble durban ………?

Rolling his eyes Special Agent Friendly tuned on his heel and stomped out into the swirling white out weather. Everyone looked at the door. In exactly 62 seconds it opened to Chuck crooking a finger to Redbone ‘Sheriff, when you’re quite ready please?” A Special Agent NEVER admits he hasn’t a clue where he’s going.

………………………………………………………………

Agent Friendly was anything but. A few months back he had had the unfortunate accident of acquiring a ‘partying’ partner – who ‘partnered’ with one too many of the way too friendly ladies in Bogota – during a Congressional ‘fact finding’ trip….. Although he steadfastly stuck to his story that he had no knowledge of what transpired, the evidence of contracting a slight case of something ‘social’ was a dead give away. Decent drugs cleared up the rash but his reputation, and career, was in the toilet – or rather as far north as anyone could be posted and still be in the US of A.

Chuck was not a happy camper, not happy at all,  but as he stomped across the frozen street toward the B&B – the slight glimmer of redemption began to find a happy place in his soul. Maybe, just maybe this could be his ticket back to civilization?

At this precise moment though he was concentrating on not falling on his ass in his totally inappropriate black dress shoes – ‘buy boots if this lasts more than 12 hours’ he spoke into the digital voice recorder he now carried up his sleeve all the time. This gave the appearance that he was constantly wiping his nose on his cuff – very odd.

Barreling through the B&B door he let it almost smack Redbone in the face – not that he cared, in fact he smiled at the idea of how close it had come. Nasty people get their come uppances – eventually, but that is still to come ….

“Can I help..”was unceremoniously cut off from Georgie’s lips.

“Where is he?

“To whom are you referring?” Georgette had summed this character up and found him worthy of her withering disdain and particularly excellent grasp of English grammar.

“Look lady, if you don’t want me to charge you with obstruction point me to the room the fugitive is being held in!”

By now Redbone had arrived behind him, and, for a second, a ripple of panic ran through Agent Friendly’s gut as the huge shadow loomed behind him.

“If you mean the poor guy with the busted bones and almost no pulse – top of the stairs on the left.”

Drawing his weapon, and feeling almost human again – Special Agent Chuck Friendly bounded up the stairs 2 at a time.

Georgie looked at Redbone, who shrugged and took the stairs at the normal pace for a man who was 40 lbs to the west of normal weight. The stairs creaked as he climbed to meet the unfortunate victim of excessive speed, poor visibility, plain dumb luck and really bad timing.