Layer 6: Tangling the Web
The sheriff strode down the dirt road that made up Main Street inTypical, his gait bold and confident, a stern expression on his face
as he surveyed the simple houses that stood to either side of the
thoroughfare. People that passed by him heading the opposite way
tended to glance meekly away and alter their path somewhat lest that
icy glare fall upon them. It was not that the sheriff was
aggressive -- or even discourteous. When his eyes chanced upon
someone, he would nod in a stiffly polite if wordless
acknowledgement. But it was just the brief experience of having
that dark, penetrating glare upon them that made people feel as if
the man were somehow peering into their soul and instantaneously
taking account of every foul deed or thought they had ever had. The
sheriff cast a disquieting, intimidating presence ... which was just
how he liked it.
But now, as he strode down the street, there were, for a change, a
pair of eyes actually seeking him out.
Those eyes peeked out from behind one of those houses that lined the
dirt road; specifically, the residence nearest across the street
from the jailhouse, it being the sheriff's presumed destination.
And those eyes belonged to Geremiah Feldgud.
Feldgud watched as the sheriff advanced down the street with his
long, steady, almost bouncingly rhythmic strides. As he watched him
walk, Feldgud started hearing music welling up in the back of his
mind -- music with a steady, driving beat that matched the sheriff's
pace. Unbidden and unwelcome, it continued building there with each
step until Feldgud suddenly thought he heard a chorus of falsetto
male voices start singing something about 'staying alive' --
Speaking of staying alive, the sheriff began to cast a glance toward
the house behind whose corner Feldgud peered, and the villager
quickly and awkwardly stepped back out of the lawman's eyeshot.
Unfortunately, the unannounced movement caused him to collide with
another person who had also been watching the sheriff, peeking
around Feldgud as Feldgud peeked around the back of the house.
Feldgud's companion uttered a sharp little cry of surprise and
irritation at the sudden, unexpected contact.
"SHHHH!" Feldgud hissed, raising an index finger to his lips. Then
he whispered hoarsely, "Quiet, Bo!"
"Oh for Heaven's sake, Gerry, he can't hear us way over here!"
Feldgud's female companion retorted. "You act like he's got the
ears of an ogre!"
"SHHHH!" Feldgud repeated. Then he whispered, "Maybe not, but you
can't be too careful!"
The woman -- 'Bo' -- shook her head disapprovingly and let out an
irascible grunt. She was in her early twenties with yellowish-blond
hair that flowed down from beneath a pink bonnet and was styled into
a bun in back. She had a pleasant face and an hour-glass figure
over which she wore a dress which featured a pink top part that
laced together across the front, and then a long white skirt spotted
with pink polka-dots that hung from her waist down to her ankles.
Her hour-glass figure was accentuated by a corset she wore
underneath that forced her waist even thinner and pushed her already
shapely bosom upward so that the top part of her cleavage was
discernable above the lacing of her blouse. In one hand she loosely
carried a long shepherd's crook staff.
"Gerry, if you're so scared, why are you doing this at all?" she
scolded him. "Why not just --"
"I'm not scared!" Feldgud objected. "I'm just ... careful."
"Yeah, right," Bo responded, smirking.
Feldgud decided to ignore her, and peeked out again from behind the
house just in time to see the sheriff disappear thought the doorway
of the jailhouse and shut the door behind him.
"Okay, he's in there," Feldgud said, turning back to her. "Time to
do your thing!"
"And just to make sure we understand what 'my thing' is worth," she
responded, "you and/or your fellow serfer boys agree to watch over
my flock for a month while I take a vacation from this po-hick
seigniory. Right?"
"Yes, Bo, yes!" Feldgud said, apparently in a hurry for her to get
started, "Just as we agreed. As long as you can keep the sheriff
distracted ... keep his attention on the meadows to the direction
from the village OPPOSITE that of the Devil's Drainpipe for the next
few hours -- "
"And you swear to replace or pay for any of the sheep that end up
missing in my absence?"
"Of COURSE Bo," Feldgud agreed. "Jeez, you want a written
contract?"
"Yes, actually," Bo replied, then added with great reluctance, "but
your word will have to do." Then she sighed, leaned on her staff
and stared off into space, a dreamy expression suddenly coming
across her face. "Still," she said reflectively, "if you come
through, it'll be worth it."
Feldgud, his curiosity temporarily overcoming his anxiousness,
asked, "So where are you going on this ... vacation?"
"Far Far Away," she replied wistfully.
"Away to where?" Feldgud asked.
Bo looked over at Feldgud, her reverie broken. "No, you moron!" she
said. "To the KINGDOM of Far Far Away!"
"Really?" This time it was Feldgud's turn to sound skeptical. "I
don't know, Bo. I hear the cost of living's awfully expensive over
there. You sure you can afford it on a shepherdess's pay?"
"First of all, it's not 'shepherdess', it's 'flock attendant'," she
corrected him indignantly. "And secondly, I'm pretty sure I can
crash with a cousin of mine. He's a musician who works one of the
snazzier nightclubs there. He used to be in the shepherding
business, too, but ended up getting canned for inattentiveness. It
worked out well, though, 'cause now he's hit it pretty big. Maybe
you've heard of him. He's a horn player, goes by the name of
'Sleepy Boy'. He specializes in the blues."
"No, sorry," Feldgud said, sparing another peek at the jailhouse.
"I'm pretty much a minstrel show man myself."
"Figures," she said dismissively. "Anyway, I'm hoping that while
I'm there that Sleepy Boy might be able to pull some strings and
help get me back on the road to my REAL career."
"Your REAL career?" Feldgud repeated, now curious, and looked back
at Bo.
"Sure," she said. "You didn't think 'Bo Peep' was my REAL name, did
you?"
"Well ... I didn't know ... I assumed ..." Feldgud stammered.
She smiled ruefully and said, "Nope. It's my stage name. I'm a
showgirl. And now ..." here Bo took a few moments to fuss with the
front of her dress until a bit more of her cleavage was highlighted
"... it's Showtime!"
"That's -- that's great, Bo," Feldgud stammered, then forced his
eyes away from Bo's -- rearrangements -- and back to her face. "As
long as you can keep the sheriff distracted --"
"Don't worry, honey," she said confidently. "Bo KNOWS
distractions."
With those words, Bo boldly stepped from behind the house and began
sashaying towards the jailhouse. Watching her move as he resumed
his clandestine observation post, Feldgud was quite certain that
distractions surely were one of her specialties. He was just
wetting his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue when Bo
reached the edge of the road, stopped, and looked back towards him.
"Have fun with the sheep!" she said, a little smirk playing one
corner of her mouth, then she turned back towards the jailhouse and
began crossing the street.
---------------------------------------------------
Bo burst through the door of the jailhouse. There she saw the
sheriff sitting behind his desk, his feet casually propped up atop
it, and a magazine in his lap. The magazine was titled 'Modern
Crime Prevention Technology' and had a picture of a mace on the
front cover.
"Oh, Sheriff!" Bo cried, sounding as if she were out of breath and
in a near panic. "I need your help!"
The sheriff glanced up at her from his magazine, his muted
expression a combination of irritation and restrained curiosity. He
asked, "Can I help you, Ms ... Ms ... ?"
"Peep," she replied, hurrying forward until she stood just in front
of his desk. "MISS Bo Peep. I tend sheep in the meadows south of
the village. Or I DID, but now ... well, I seem to have lost them
and ... and ... I just don't know where to find them!"
"Hum," the sheriff grunted, even the mild hint of curiosity now gone
from his voice. "Well, Miss, it's been my experience that if you
just leave them alone that they'll usually come home, in most cases
wagging their tails behind them."
"Oh, but Sheriff, you don't understand!" Bo implored. "It's very
important that I find these sheep as soon as possible! I'll do
anything if you could just help me!" Here Bo leaned over the desk
pleadingly, placing her hands atop it and giving the sheriff a
closer and better view of the top of her rearranged blouse.
"ANYTHING!"
The sheriff observed the proffered view for a few moments, his face
stern and his expression wary. Then he looked up at Bo, cocked an
eyebrow, and said, "Miss Peep, if you're attempting to --"
Bo quickly stood back up and then continued, her tone still one of
innocent desperation, "I've already tried searching around SO hard!
I've done it across meadows, through woods, around streams ... and
now I'm EXHAUSTED! Here, see --" Bo propped one of her feet up on
the desk and pulled her dress back, exposing the shapely bare leg up
to a few inches above the knee. "You see how swollen my leg is?" she
asked, injecting just a mild touch of suggestiveness into her tone.
"Miss Peep," the sheriff asked wearily, "are you trying to seduce
me?"
"Why, certainly NOT!" Bo said with exaggerated indignation, dropping
her leg from the table with a stomp and looking defiantly at the
sheriff. "I'm a desperate woman, and I came to you for ...HELP.
But if YOU'RE not capable of helping me, then perhaps I should find
another man who IS!"
The sheriff heaved an annoyed sigh, then lowered his own legs from
off the table and tossed the magazine aside. "Sorry, Miss Peep," he
said. "But I'm rather determined to keep my position here in
Typical on a strictly professional level. I've had some ...
difficulties ... in previous positions with maids ... not to mention
NON-maids." He ignored the venomous look she shot him as he reached
into the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a parchment and quill.
"Here," he said, handing them towards Bo. "Fill in this missing
sheep report. If they don't come home within twenty-four hours then
I'll launch an investigation."
"But ... but ... but you don't UNDERSTAND!" Bo stammered. "In that
part of the meadows we've ... we've had problems with ... sheep
rustlers!"
Suddenly a gleam appeared in the sheriff's eyes. "Sheep rustlers?"
he repeated, his interest obviously piqued.
"Yes!" Bo said, glad she'd found bait he might take. "They've been
a terrible nuisance to sheep farmers from down in that area, and I'm
afraid that if we wait too long, my sheep might be gone forever!"
"Well, that's a bit different," the sheriff said, returning the
parchment and quill to the desk drawer. "Why didn't you say that in
the first place?"
Bo tried to think of a response, and was relieved when she realized
that he had meant the question rhetorically as he stood up from his
desk and walked over to a cabinet set against a wall. "Please don't
think I don't sympathize with your plight, Miss Peep," he explained,
"but, frankly, for me it will be a welcome change of pace from this
normally boring job to be able to mix it up with such scoundrels."
He took a set of keys out of a pocket and unlocked the cabinet, and
from it he pulled out a crossbow with a strap across it which he
slung across one shoulder, and a quiver of bolts he strapped around
his waist. Then he withdrew a rolled-up length of rope and hung it
across his other shoulder. He then closed and re-locked the
cabinet, re-pocketed the keys, then strode over to a nearby hat
stand from which he took a brown Stetson cowboy hat. He reached
inside the hat, withdrew a red bandana, placed the hat on his head
and then tied the bandana around his neck. Next he turned back to
Bo and said, "I'm going out back to retrieve my horse. If you'll be
so kind as to meet me in front, then we'll ride out to your meadow
and see about this missing sheep business."
"Oh, THANK you, Sheriff!" Bo said, her voice heavily honeyed with
gratitude.
The sheriff tipped his hat. "Not at all, Ma'am," he said, then
disappeared out a door in back.
Bo exited through the front door and stood on the porch of the
jailhouse. She looked at the house across the street, and after a
moment saw Feldgud peer out from behind it. She glanced around to
make sure she wasn't being watched, then flashed him a quick,
clandestine thumbs-up sign. He nodded, then disappeared back behind
the house.
A few seconds later Bo heard the clip-clop of horse's hooves and
turned to see the sheriff riding up from the alley beside the
jailhouse on a large, handsome, cream-colored stallion. The sheriff
stopped the horse beside her, held out an upturned hand towards her,
and said, "Crook."
Bo blinked. "I beg your pardon?" she asked.
The sheriff gestured towards her staff. "Your shepherd's crook," he
explained.
"Oh!" she said, relieved. "Uh ... certainly." She handed him the
staff, which he took and slid in beside the saddlebags. He then
reached a hand down towards her again.
"Here you go, Ma'am," he said. "Let me help you up."
"Oh ... I don't know ..." She said dubiously, her eyes scanning the
breadth of the large horse.
"It'll be fine, Miss Peep," he said reassuringly.
"Well ... all right ..." Bo said tentatively, then carefully reached
for the sheriff's hand. To her surprise, he reached down passed her
hand, seized her arm, and with surprising strength and coordination
lifted her up off the ground to where she was sitting on the horse
just behind him. It was all done with one swift motion and left Bo
breathless ... and impressed.
"Are you all right, Miss?" he asked.
"Why ... yes ... thank you, Sheriff," she responded.
"You'd best get a good hold, Miss Peep," he said. "We may be in for
a bumpy ride."
"Okay," she agreed, and slid her arms around his waist -- his slim,
taught waist, as she could feel even through his garment -- and
locked her hands just below his muscular chest. Then she leaned
slightly against his broad, strong back.
"Oh, my!" Bo sighed heavily.
"What's that, Miss Peep?" the sheriff asked.
"Oh! My ... my ... sheep!" Bo responded. "I just hope we can find
my sheep!"
"We'll do our best," he promised, and with a flick of his spurs and
a grunted "gidyap" sent the horse trotting down the street ... until
he stopped it after just a few paces and jerked its reins to have it
turn the opposite way. He then peered down the street like an eagle
eyeing its prey.
"What's wrong?" Bo asked, and then followed his gaze. She was glad
he couldn't see her, for he would surely have noticed her blush as
she saw Feldgud scurrying down the street some fifty yards away.
The villager stopped for a moment, as if he could feel the heat at
the base of his skull, and turned around. He saw the sheriff
looking at him and gave a start, and Bo could swear she saw the
blood drain from his face even from this distance. Feldgud then
quickly turned back around and resumed his scurry at a slightly
quicker pace than before.
"That's Feldgud," the sheriff said, his tone thoughtful. "He's a
troublemaker. I gave him a dressing-down earlier today. I wonder
what HE's up to now."
Bo took a few seconds to recompose herself and think, then ventured,
"Well, if YOU gave him a warning just today, then I'm SURE the man
wouldn't be stupid enough to try something mischievous so soon,
Sheriff. Would he?"
The sheriff seemed to mull that over for a few seconds, then gave a
grunt of what Bo assumed was agreement. He then turned the horse
back around and they began riding off in the direction opposite
Feldgud ... and the Devil's Drainpipe.