Hip Deep In Jurisdiction

Sheriff Wilma Reed had just made her second graceful long looping fly cast. The Kettle River’s calm meandering waters reflects gold coins of light around her bicycle patched hip waders. At 7:30 on a Monday morning when most lawmen would be fighting city traffic to get to the office, Sheriff Reed is busy fighting a big rainbow trout. Her fishing vest pocket carries an Altoids mint tin of beautifully made gray-hackle mayflies, a Christmas present from her eight-year-old granddaughter, Magen.

The radio in her Jeep Cherokee parked on the shoulder of road squawks several times before her cell phone begins ringing. She takes a quick glance at her Swiss Army watch and continues reeling in the trout.

“ Let me guess, a rich coasty woke up this morning to a yard full of open range cows and they want me to rush right out and solve their problem.” She grumbles just as the trout clears water and shakes the hook free.

“Good for you my friend, now I’ve got work to do.” The sweet smell of the cotton wood trees reminds her of fishing with her father along the Feather River in California. Securely tucking her dad’s 1940’s split-bamboo fly pole under her arm, she bends and grabs a handful of fragrant river sage growing out of the damp rocks and gravel before climbing up the bank to the Jeep.

The Cherokee’s dashboard is littered with an array souvenirs’ from a woman who loves nature: a hornet’s nest, several turkey, cider waxwing, and yellow tipped flicker feathers. She lays the sacred river sage next to the hornet’s nest and picks up the radio mike while wiggling out of the hip waders.

At fifty-four, Wilma Reed is still built like a brick shit house. Her Doris Day drake’s tail haircut may show the gray, but no one in their right mind would say she was past her prime.

“What’s up Julie, and it better be good?” Reaching under the driver's seat with her free hand, Wilma feels for a small whisk broom.

"Sheriff, I just received a call from Sandy Berky out at the McMansion at the lake."

"Yeah! Come on Julie, I'm waiting."

"I'm looking for the code card."

"To hell with the code card Julie, just tell me what happened."

"Sandy Berky says he thinks that city dude Carl Edwards has been murdered."

"Okay Julie, find the code card. Did Berky call you on the office line? "

"Yes!"

"Damn! Okay Julie I'm on my way. One more question. Has there been any squawk on the Beritta Boy's channel? " Standing in her stocking feet, the Sheriff tosses her sand covered hip boots on to the passenger side floor mat along with the whisk broom and reaches for her work shoes sitting on the seat.

"Yes! There may be a crowd already there Sheriff."

"Double Damn!" she says , "Okay Julie I'm on my way, eta in less that twenty minutes."