*Author's Note*

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No Bail

Tolbert POV:

"I can't believe I'm in jail for yankin' some prick over a damn table." My best friend bitterly chuckled from his spot in the bunk 'bove me.

"I can." I told me friend. Lookin' up at the bunk 'bove me, ev'n tho I couldn't actually see my friend, I added in, "He got me locked up for accidently hittin' Misty, what makes ya any dif'rent?"

"Um, I'm dif'rent cause I didn't hit anybody." Shaw pointed out in a reasonable soundin' tone.

"You assaulted Mr. Brooksdale by pullin' him over a table by his tie. That offense does count as assault, you know, Shaw." Sherriff Maynard dryly informed my best friend, who was most likely rollin' his honey brown eyes at the stout old lawman.

"Bullshit." Shaw spit out bitterly 'fore deeply scoffin', "If I assaulted the rich prick, he'd know it."

"I wouldn't mind assaultin' him. Brock needs a good punch to the face." I smirked, causin' my best friend to let out an amused chuckle from his spot sittin' on the bunk 'bove mine.

"Oh god, help me." Sherriff Maynard muttered under his breath, runnin' a hand down the length of his salt 'n' pepper bearded face. He leaned back in his chair and let out a long exasp'rated sigh, eyin' our cage warily.

Clearly, he didn't wanna deal wit' me an' Shaw locked up t'gether. I was bad 'nough, but the two of us…well…that's another story alt'gether.

The door burst open, causin' Sherriff Maynard t'nearly jump outta his chair. Me an' Shaw just craned our necks t'see who came in. When we saw that it wasn't the dumbass deputy, but Peter, we knew that all hell was gonna break lose.

"Dad should be able t'get us out." Shaw told me, jumpin' down from the top bunk t'join me on the bottom one.

"Yea, I hope so." I dryly sighed while watchin' Peter storm ov'r to the sherriff's desk wit' a furious glare in his eyes.

"Why the hell did ya lock my boy up for, sherriff?" Peter asked in a cold an' demandin' tone as he towered ov'r the sherriff, who was shakin' in his chair. One thing nobody wanted t'mess wit' was a pissed off Peter. That man was crazy…

"He attacked Mr. Brooksdale and the man pressed charges 'gainst him." Sherriff Maynard told Peter matter-o-factly, givin' him a pointed look that portrayed he was judgin' his skills as a poppy.

"That's a lie, dad!" Shaw exclaimed, causin' Peter to look ov'r at him wit' his brow arched quizzically. Wit'out any shame, my best friend honestly told his poppy, "I didn't attack him, just yanked him ov'r a table y his silk tie."

"Should've used his silk tie like a noose an' hung 'im wit' him." Peter told his son in a dry tone, causin' Sherriff Maynard's eyes to go wide. "So, how much is their bail?" The butcher asked, lookin' 'tween the sherriff an' the cage we were locked up in, as he pulled his money clip from his waist coat pocket. Eh, why the butcher wore waist coats when he cut bloody meat all day's beyond me. I think it's stupid t'look yer best just t'slaughter an' cut up animals, but t'each their own.

"There isn't any bail, Peter." The sherriff told the butcher wit' a ten'tive look on his face.

"What?" Peter asked in a loud spat of disbelief.

"They assaulted a senator's brother; I can't just let them go for 40-bucks. This is a serious charge; one they need to spend a night locked up to atone for."

Peter pointed to me an' said, "But he's already been locked up for a night."

"Unlike your son, he needs more than a night to pay for what he did." God, how much money are the Brooksdales payin' this lawman t'do this t'me. Any other time he'd take the bail money an' free me from my cage.

"This is bullshit, sherriff." Peter balked, slidin' his money clip back into his waist coat. Narrowin' his eyes at Sherriff Maynard, he rhetorically asked, "You know how much money I'm gonna lose by not havin' my boy work the front of my shop?"

"I'm sure one day havin' to work the butcher shop by yourself won't put ya in the poorhouse, Peter."

"You've just raised the price of your meat, sherriff." The butcher snarled 'fore stormin' out the door, slammin' it loud an' hard 'hind him.

Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Peter Eldridge. Sherriff Maynard's gonna be ettin' a lotta veg'tables since he ain't gonna be able t'afford the butcher's high price on meat. Piss that man off an' he'll double or triple the price ya pay 'im for his butcherin' skills.

Misty POV:

I was outside on the second story balcony wit' Brock. We were gettin' some fresh air an' havin' a smoke after bein' cooped up in my room for most of the mornin'. He had a hand lazily restin' on the small of my back as we leaned 'gainst the railin'. Since Thanksgivin' was in a few days, the town was busier than normal since people needed to do pre-holiday errands. Me an' Brock just silently watched people bustle 'round town, doin' errands an' catchin' up on gossip.

"He looks pissed." Brock pointed out Peter's form stormin' out of the jail 'fore takin' a drag off the cigarette that was lightly danglin' between his pointer an' middle finger.

"He is since you just had his son locked up this mornin'." I told him, takin' a drag off of my own smolderin' cigarette.

"Ah." Brock nodded, lettin' out a lungful of smoke. "So, he's Shaw's father."

"Yea; he's the town butcher too." I confirmed wit' a nod, takin' a quick breath off my cigarette.

"I figured as much from the bloody apron tied 'round his waist."

"He's not a man to cross an' I think Sherriff Maynard just did that." I informed my rich an' handsome customer, tippin' some ashes ov'r the wooden railin'.

"Hmm…" Brock hummed, takin' a long drag of his fast smolderin' cigarette. As a waft of smoke flowed out of his mouth as he asked, "How much trouble can a butcher be?"

"A lot." I simply answered, causin' Bock to just let out a chortled huff while tossin' his used-up cigarette ov'r the balcony.

"Misty, darlin', just cause he's got a piss-poor attitude doesn't me he's trouble. Trust me, I've seen worse men then him in worse places." I imagine that he has seen some pretty rough an' interestin' people considerin' he lives in the big city of Louisville. In a sure as day tone, he told me, "All that man is, is a butcher that's bad attitude controls the prices of his meats." How he knew that, I'd nev'r know. Perhaps he's had run ins with pissy butchers before?

I didn't say a word, just nodded and tossed my own finished smoke ov'r the railin'. I could feel his hand slowly movin' up an' down my spine as he shuffled closer to me, literally pressin' the front of his body up 'gainst the back of mine. As I looked ahead at the town, I saw my Papa's wagon comin' up the road. I reckon Mama sent him out to get a few supplies. Seein' him an' knowin' that he no longer counted me as his daughter cause of what I've done and have to do in order to keep myself off the streets hurt. It hurt real bad.

My spine stiffened up slightly as he rode by, givin' me a dirty, hard look as he did. Brock noticed since he dipped his head low by my ear an' asked in a concerned tone, "Something wrong, darlin'?"

Turnin' slightly, so I could look up at his towerin' form, I forced a sweet smile an' assured him, "I'm fine, Brock." Quickly, so he wouldn't press me anymore, I made up the excuse of, "Just a bit chilled by the fall weather, I guess."

"Well, then let's go back inside and keep each other warm." Brock suggest wit' a wiry look that gave 'way to what he had in mind, which was us gettin' tangled up in my sheets doin' the trick. I just smiled an' nodded, causin' him to smirk 'fore usherin' me back inside of the whorehouse an' down the hall towards my room.

Mord POV:

As I drove towards the general store, I spotted Melissa Jenna standin' on the balcony of the house of ill-repute wit' some rich man pressed up 'gainst her, hangin' all ov'r her to the point he was just 'bout gropin' her in the public eye. It was so disgustin' and distasteful how she was bein' some rich man' harlot right in the open, where all of Pikeville'd see. Made me wanna puke. I angrily shook my head at the situation.

I just didn't know where me an' her Mama went wrong. We raised her strict; in the church too. She shouldn't 've turned into a harlot, but for some reason she did.

Wit' a heavy sigh, I pulled my wagon to a spot right in front of Adam's. Quickly, I climbed down from the wagon and entered the store. The sooner I got the few things my wife needed for a small an' meager meal on Thursday the faster I could get back t'doin' my farm chores. Chores my daughter would've been doin' 'fore she turned into a harlot; becomin' dead t'me.

Allie POV:

A couple of weeks back Levicy and Anse took me in after I had a particularly heated argument with my brother, causin' him to kick me out. We got into a fight over the fact that he was entertainin' the notion of approachin' Nancy McCoy wit' the intent to court. Abel happened to think that McCoy shrew was pretty, causin' him to act foolishly. I told him as much which resulted in him tellin' me that he didn't approve of my fast-paced relationship wit' Will. We bickered back and forth til he kicked me out.

Havin' nowhere to go, I went to the Hatfields and told them 'bout Abel throwin' me out. Right away, Levicy told me that I could stay with them. Devil Anse told me that if Will wanted it, then I could use the Hatfield name and properly take up wit' him, but if he wasn't ready for that then I'd be keepin' my own name and stayin' with the girls.

Much to my delight, Will decided it was time for us to take up. So, now I'm known as Miss Allie Hatfield and I'm officially Will's woman. In time I know that we'll have Judge Wall marry us, but right now we're content to just be together. His family's happy that we're committed too.

This afternoon I was churnin' butter out on the front porch while Levicy was inside, tendin' to the children, whenever Will pulled up with the wagon full of supplies that his mama had sent him out for earlier. With a smile, I asked my blonde shaggy-haired man, "How was the trip 'cross the Tug?"

Will had to go to Adam's in Pikeville to buy a bunch of different candies that Shifflet's doesn't carry. Since Thanksgivin' was in a few days and the large gatherin' for it was bein' held here, Levicy wanted every possible kind of candy made in the house since an ungodly number of children were goin' to be in the house for the holiday. Only half of the candy she wanted was sold in West Virginia, but the entire order was available in Kentucky so Will had to go to Pikeville. Not cause he wanted to, but cause he had to.

"Interestin', since the word goin' 'round's that both Shaw and Tolbert got themselves locked up in jail for attackin' Senator Brooksdale's little brother." Will told me while climbin' down from the wagon and roundin' to the back; grabbin' a sag of flour and slingin' it over his shoulder.

"What? They got into a fight with somebody powerful enough to get them hanged if he wanted?" I asked, a tint of shock and disbelief in my voice, as I paused in my churnin'.

"Tolbert got into the fight wit' 'im last night; even ended up hittin' Misty too, and Shaw tried to strangle Mr. Brooksdale this mornin'." Will told me as he made his way over to the porch with the heavy flour sack balanced on his shoulder.

Returnin' to my churnin', I shook my head incrediously, "Dear lord, those two are crazy."

"Mhm…" Will hummed, walkin' by me and into the house.

Oh, I'm sure Shaw and Tolbert are losing it in jail. Hell, by time Sherriff Maynard lets them out they should be frazzled beyond repair.

Tolbert POV:

I'm not sure how long I've been in my cage for, but it wasn't so bad bein' locked up wit' my best friend tho. At least wit' Shaw sharin' the cage wit' me I had somebody to talk to that wasn't an asshole. He kept my mind off of my predic'ment, that's for sure. He had the top bunk while I had the bottom. I was leanin' 'gainst the wall while he was sittin', kickin' an' swayin' his legs boredly from the side of the bunk.

"So, deputy dickhead, got any whiskey?" Shaw asked the deputy, who was coverin' for the Sherriff while he went home to eat a homecooked meal made by Mrs. Maynard.

"No." The dumbass deputy shook his head. "Sherriff Maynard don't allow drinkin' on the job."

"Course he don't." I chuckled.

"Damn…" My best friend sighed dramatically. "Whiskey would've tasted pretty damn good right now."

"You're not allowed anythin', but the food the sherriff had me fetch ya'll." The deputy, whose name I don't care 'nough t'remember, reminded us of the rule Sherriff Maynard had given him when it came t'watchin' us.

Shaw's legs swayed faster an' faster ov'r the edge of his bunk as he whined, "That was hours 'go, dickhead. We're parched 'gain; need some whiskey to wet our whistles."

"No, Shaw, I can't get'cha whiskey." Deputy dumbass sternly told my friend. "I can get ya'll some coffee tho." He offered in a thoughtful tone.

"No, that shit's stale an' bitter." I blurted out 'fore Shaw could ev'n accept the deputy's offer.

"Oh, so Sherriff Maynard buys the cheap shit then?" Shaw asked, no one in particular, as he legs slowed down into a listless dangle ov'r the edge of the bunk.

"Yep." I popped my tongue.

"Too bad we don't got any whiskey, we could spike the stale coffee to make it taste better." Shaw remarked, jumpin' down from the top bunk only to join me on the bottom one.

"If you two don't stop your complainin' I'm gonna tell the sherriff when he gets back." Deputy dumbass threatened us wit' a pointed look.

Turnin' to me, Shaw asked, "Ya think the sherriff's comin' back tonight?"

"No." I shook my head. "Not when he's got deputy dumbass watchin' us."

"I can hear ya, you know, so stop callin' me the dumbass deputy."

"Hey, if the shoe fits…" I trailed off, only for Shaw to blurt out the rest of the sayin' wit' a loud, "Wear it."

"Only god knows how I'm gonna deal with the two of you all night long." The deputy let out in a slight groan, pickin' up his coffee an' takin' a long sip of it.

Yea, it's gonna be a long nite. At least deputy deumbass gets paid to be here, me an' my best friend's locked up like fuckin' lions at Barnum & Bailey's Circus.

Meanwhile In Blackberry Creek…

Sally POV:

After Roseanna an' Alifair helped me clear the tables, I had them tend to the lil ones while I washed up the dishes. The boys remained seated at the table wit' Rand'l, sippin' on coffee an' silently watchin' me at the sink. Havin' all my boys, but one, at the table wit' their poppy talkin' 'bout chores an' such ov'r an after-dinner cup o'coffee hurt. Tolbert should be home wit' us, not in jail. My boy was a good man despite his hot-headed temper.

I knew that he was only rottin' in jail cause the man he got into it wit' happens to have a connection t'Perry Cline. Perry, who can convince my husband t'go straight to hell wit' him due to his charmin' an' twisted words. That man was as slippery as the serpent that deceived Eve into ettin' the forbidden fruit.

Lookin' over my shoulder as I scrubbed a pot, I told my husband, "Rand'l, maybe ya ought'a take some money from our savin's jar an' go see Sherriff Maynard 'bout bailin' out Tolbert. It ain't fittin' for him to be jailed this Thanksgivin' week."

"Sally, I ain't bailin' him out." Rand'll firmly said, causin' the boys to just look at him a bit wide-eyed from their places gathered 'round him at the table. As I rinsed out the pot, set it aside, an' started scrubbin' another dirty one, he made the argument t'not bail out our second born wit' the words of, "He attacked Senator Brooksdale's brother an' struck Misty hard 'cross the face too. Perry feels he needs t'spend some time 'hind bars to reflect on what he did; to learn his lesson."

"But he's been there one nite already; I think he's learnt his lesson an' is ready to come home."

"No, he'll stay in there as long as the sherriff sees fit."

"You know as well as I do that he won't be let go til Thursday cause Perry an' his senator friend made such a big stink 'bout Tolbert fightin' with the senator's brother."

"Sally, not another word on this. Just clean up the dishes an' let it be." Rand'l firmly told me, his eyes hard an' unwaverin' as he looked right thru me.

I bit my lip t'keep myself from sayin' anythin' thatmight upset my husband. Shakin' my head, I finished up the dishes. After placin' them all on the counter to dry, I went outside on the porch for a breath of fresh air.

AN:

Next up is Thanksgiving. It's gonna be a very angsty one in the McCoy household too.