Verna scribbled something on her clipboard, mumbling under her breath.
“What was that?” Reva asked, cocking a brow.
Verna looked up, deadpan. “I said that rules out three-quarters of these applicants—or more.”
Despite herself, Reva chuckled—a real, honest-to-goodness laugh. It felt foreign in her chest, like something she’d forgotten how to do.
“Thanks, Verna,” she said, softer now. “For holding down the fort while I was gone.”
Verna’s face softened, too. “I’ve got you, Mayor. Whatever you need.”
Reva nodded, a tightness building behind her eyes. She glanced at the mountain of applications and then at the phone already blinking with messages.
“Okay,” she told herself, straightening a stack of papers. “Time to get to work.”
Reva had been at it for hours, her eyes blurring from scanning Verna’s list and the résumés, frustrated at the lack of qualified candidates, when a sharp rap sounded at her office door. She rubbed her temples and looked up, surprised to see Gibbs Nichols standing in the doorway, hat in hand.
“Sorry to barge in,” he said, his voice more serious than usual. “Verna wasn’t at her desk.”
Reva glanced at the clock on her computer. “She must be at lunch,” she murmured, setting down her pen.
Gibbs stepped in, a little awkward, the toes of his boots scuffing against the rug. He didn’t sit, just twisted his hat between his hands.
“I know you’re busy, Reva,” he began, clearing his throat. “But I’m here because I want to throw my name in the hat for sheriff.”
Reva leaned back slowly, folding her hands over her stomach. Of all the candidates she’d imagined, Gibbs Nichols hadn’t been high on the list.
He must’ve read the skepticism on her face because he hurried on.
“Look, I know I’ve been a screw-up in a lot of ways. Everybody in this town knows it, no point pretending otherwise. But that’s behind me. It’s different now.” His gaze was steady, and for once, free of the old defensiveness. “I’m a husband now. A faithful spouse,” he added pointedly. “And a father—not just to Jewel, but to the new little one. I need to support them, Reva. Not just with a paycheck, but with something that matters. Something that tells Jewel that people can change. That you can fall down and still stand back up.”
He paused, taking a breath. “I know this town. I know its people, its back roads, its history. I know who’s got a short fuse and who just needs someone to listen. Fleet taught me more than folks realize—about patience, about reading between the lines. About not making a bad situation worse just because you can.”
Reva stayed silent, studying him. He was older now, a little thicker around the middle, a few more creases around the eyes. But there was a steadiness in his posture she hadn’t seen before.
Gibbs shifted and glanced at the leaning stack of applications on her desk.
“All I’m asking is that you consider it,” he said quietly. “Not for who I used to be, but for who I am now.”
He squared his shoulders, set his hat back on his head, and gave her a nod. “Thank you, Mayor.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.
Reva sat still for a long moment, the clock ticking softly in the background.
The office felt heavier after Gibbs left, like the very air had thickened. Reva leaned back in her chair, staring at the door as if she could still see him standing there.
Hiring a sheriff wasn’t just about filling a vacancy. It wasn’t even just about safety. It was about trust. About the soul of the town.
She tapped her pen against the desk, staring at the stack of applications. There were others, sure—a few with impressive credentials, a couple of retired lawmen from as far away as Montana and Idaho, looking for one last quiet post before the rocking chair.
They didn’t know who still left their back doors unlocked out of habit.
They didn’t know that you didn’t write up a citation when Harold Riggins’s cows wandered Main Street—you just helped herd them back behind the sagging fence.
They didn’t know the difference between good trouble and bad trouble.
And yet...
