clerk almost grinned. “Absolutely.”
He looked at the man. “You stay here until she gets your appointment. And you’d better find somebody to drive you home, because you cannot drive without a license and I don’t want to see you here again. Understood?”
Amber was amazed. Wyatt took a lot of personal interest, sometimes waiving fines when people simply couldn’t pay them. But again and again, when something caught his attention, he zoomed in.
Then came the guy who was in front of him for the second time for driving on a suspended license.
“I told you to stop driving,” Wyatt said. “What makes you think you can ignore the law like this? Your license was suspended for DUI. Now you’re in front of me again for driving when you’re not allowed to?”
The amusing part came after Wyatt ruled, telling the guy that the next time he was going to jail and was being spared this time only because he had small children to support. Then he added, “I’m leaving here in another few minutes, so you’d better find someone to drive you home. Because I’ll recognize your face now and I’ll chase you down and arrest you myself. Got it?”
Amber had never guessed that traffic court could be so fascinating and even moving. And Wyatt broke the mold.
* * *
Amber waited in the court after everyone had departed. She didn’t feel free to just walk back into Wyatt’s chambers. He might be dealing with something that was none of her business, or he might just be busy. She only waited about twenty minutes, though, before he entered the courtroom again, this time wearing his jacket and no robe and carrying a briefcase. “Free for the rest of the day,” he said with a smile. “Do you want to go home or would you rather go down the block to the diner with excellent food and service that never comes with a smile?”
That surprised a little laugh from her. “Really?”
“Maude and her daughter are the local gorgons, but the food more than makes up for it.”
“Then by all means the diner.”
“Let’s walk,” he suggested, and this time they exited the courthouse by the grand front entrance. “I think these places were built to impress and intimidate,” he said as they walked down the wide marble steps.
“I think you’re right. It’s a beautiful building.”
“That it is. And you see the stone benches and tables scattered in the little park? When the weather allows we have people at nearly every one of them playing chess or checkers.” He pointed. “Over there is the sheriff’s office.”
It looked like a regular storefront, which surprised her. “No Corinthian columns for him?”
Wyatt laughed. “None. They used to be in the courthouse basement a couple of generations ago, but then they needed more room and were getting squeezed out by the records and clerks. So they took up one side of the street there, and their offices run back inside behind the storefronts. Bigger than it looks from out here.”
They crossed Main, which was right in front of the courthouse, to a side street where he pointed out other shops to her, one of them a craft shop in a house a little way past the diner, a dentist’s office, a dress store, a bail bondsman and a couple of lawyers, one of them with the name Carter painted in gold letters on the window.
“Your father?” she asked.
“The same.”
“So you practiced there for a while?”
“Yup.” Then into the diner, which was quite busy. She couldn’t miss the silence that fell suddenly as she walked in with Wyatt and felt like a bug under a microscope.
“Ignore it,” he said under his breath. “They’re just curious. Something new to talk about.”
She hadn’t considered that possibility. Being the subject of talk wasn’t something she wanted, but then she reminded herself that she was only visiting. A week, two weeks, whatever, but eventually she was going to have to figure out the next path she needed to walk. And after what had happened in Chicago, she figured large law firms were off her list for some time. People gossiped there, too, and that gossip spread. For her it would be the kind of gossip that would make another firm leery of hiring her.
All of a sudden a man in a sheriff’s uniform stood before them. He had a burn-scarred face and a gravelly voice. “Hey, Wyatt, we were just leaving. Take our booth.”
Wyatt smiled and held out his hand to shake the other man’s. “Amber, this is Gage Dalton, our sheriff. Gage, a lawyer friend of mine from Chicago, Amber Towers.”
Gage’s crooked smile was friendly as he shook Amber’s hand. “Welcome to Conard City, Ms. Towers. If you decide you want to get out of town and visit a ranch, let me know. I’ve got several deputies who’d be glad to oblige. Or you can take a trail ride.” He laughed. “Whole bunches of things to do, if you know where to look.”
She met three more deputies as they departed, one of them a woman who had the same last name as a much older man with a Native American face. They didn’t at all resemble each other, which raised her curiosity.
“The two named Parish,” she began after they sat and the table had been cleared by a scowling woman.
“Micah Parish and his daughter-in-law, Connie.”
Well, that explained a lot. “Family business, law enforcement?”
Wyatt flashed a grin. “Not exactly. Micah has a ranch, too, and his son, Ethan, left the sheriff’s department to help out there. Unfortunately, I think we’re going to see Micah retire before long. It’ll be the end of an era.”
“Meaning?”
Coffee cups slammed down in front of them and were filled by an older version of the woman who had cleared the table. Looking up at that face, Amber almost hesitated. But then she plunged in. “I can’t drink much coffee. Could I please have milk instead?”
She was answered with a grunt as the menus slapped onto the table.
“Was that a yes?” Amber asked Wyatt quietly as the woman stomped away.
“Mavis or Maude will bring your milk.” He winked. “I warned you about the service. Okay, end of an era. Micah’s been a deputy here ever since he mustered out of the army. Nearly a quarter century now. He started working for the old sheriff, Nate Tate, who retired a while back, which was another end-of-an-era event around here. Anyway, at first Micah wasn’t very well accepted.”
“Why? Because he’s Native American?”
“Bingo. A lot of those prejudices still exist. He’s become kind of iconic over the years, like the old sheriff. And folks still call Gage the new sheriff, even though it’s been years.”
“I’m beginning to get the picture.”
He nodded. “Things do change here, they just change slowly.”
She was also adding together her impressions and began to feel very uncomfortable. “Wyatt? Will my staying with
