"Ewaaa-aaa-aaald," bleated Lacey Tate. "Ewaaa-aaaa-aaald, waaa-aaake up!"

Herman called out similarly, his voice lilting like a song, "Ewaaa-aaa-ld!"

Cherry groaned, sitting up slowly. His head was swimming although the aching of his battered body was gone. In fact, aside from his bleariness, the sheriff felt pretty good. He looked pretty good too, dressed in his Sunday best, trimmed and scrubbed clean. As he found his footing and dusted off his trousers, he beheld a vast expanse of verdant farmland bathed in warm sunlight. The sky was clear and blue. There weren't any clouds above but as he lowered his gaze, he found the white clouds had gathered around his waist.

Or were those clouds?

"Ewaaaaaa-aaa-aaald!"

It came at once to Cherry. Rather than clouds, he was surrounded by a collection of vibrating sheep. He stumbled backwards, swiftly extricating himself from the ring of sentient wool. Two of the fluffier sheep removed themselves from the herd to join him.

"Whaaa-aat's wrong, Ewaaa-aaa-aaald?" inquired one with the cadance of Lacey Tate. "Where are you gooo-ooing?"

"What the hell is this," said Cherry. Not a question. His features twisted into a mix of disgust and terror.

The other sheep giggled like Herman Tate. Given that Herman Tate wasn't given to giggling, Cherry felt very uncomfortable by the display. "Not hell, silly! This is heaaaa-aaa-aaven!"

"What about this is heell-llish?" asked Lacey, batting her big, sheep eyes.

Horrified by the prospect of having undergone a similar transformation, Cherry raised his hands to confirm that he was still human. This reassurance did little for him. "No. No, no, no..."

"There is nooo-ooo-ooo creature more diviiii-iine than a shee-eee-eeep," stated Lacey wearing a bright sheepy smile.

"This can't be right," said Cherry. "This is what Jeff wants? To turn into a sheep?" He tried to remember any sermons from his childhood and came up empty. Maybe this was the heaven the preachers preached about. Maybe one heaven and hell were the same place and it was filled with sheep.

Lacey and Herman bobbed up and down, singing a happy song as they stamped their hooves:

Every day I thaaa-aaa-aank the Lord,

For giving me my graaa-aa-aass and heee-eerd!

And every night I sit and praa-aaa-aay,

For lots of oaa-aa-aats and lots of haaaa-aay!

Cherry felt sick. Violently so. Unpeturbed, the Tate sheep carried on, gradually joined by the others until a chorus of sheep singing flooded the sheriff's ears:

Oh, how I loo-oo-oove to be a sheee-eeep

And what good fooo-ooo-oortune I do ree-eeap!

My cloven feet! My woo-oool so soft!

My small black nooo-oose! My baaa-aaa-hing cough!

Delighted and oblivious to Cherry's overt loathing, the sheep sang louder:

To be a sheee-eee-eeep is to know joy,

For sheee-eepy girls and sheee-eepy boys

Possess in them a pure graaa-aaa-aace

That-

"Wake up, you imbecile." Asper's open palm caught Cherry across the face. The field and its frolicking inhabitants vanished with the blow. Cherry was again on his back, on a soft mattress, his pain returned in full. Odd as it was, he was grateful for it. He was burning hot, damp, and more than a little confused.

"I told you," said Bob. "He's delirious."

"I don't care if he thinks he's the king of France," replied Asper. "I didn't nurse him through the night for this. I want to know what he knows." Cherry stared at the rancher, his gaze refusing to focus. What was Levi Asper doing here? Where had the horrible, horrible sheep gone?

In the back of the room, beyond Asper, the sheriff spied a welcome presence looking grim. "Jeff!" He had so much he wanted to tell him.

Schim sighed and rolled his eyes. He forced a smile, reminded that Cherry was waking up from near death. "Howdy, Sheriff. How are you feelin'?"

Cherry made to rise from the bed. Bob pushed him down as he tried and held him in place. As he struggled, the cowhand said, "Stay still!"

"Jeff," insisted Cherry. "You don't want to pass on. It's awful. It's all sheep."

Asper coughed, choking on his spit. "What is he on about?"

"Delirious," reiterated Bob.

"You realize that we've got bigger problems," said Schim, passing through the others and moving close. "You've been asleep for over a day."

"I was dead," Cherry asserted. "I was dead and I went to heaven..."

"You had a fever dream," clarified Schim, exasperated. "From whatever happened to you at the Tate house."

Cherry considered this. He mulled it over for a minute before putting forth, "No, I know what happened. I saw Lacey and Herman. They're sheep now. They're sheep and they sing."

Asper turned to Bob. "Did he just say somethin' about Herman Tate?" Schim pinched the bridge of his nose. True, it was fortunate for Cherry that Levi Asper erroneously believed him to be some sort of devious mastermind. It was what prompted the medical treatment when the sheriff had been abandoned on the floor. However, Schim knew this would not end favorably. "Sheriff, what did you say? When did you see Herman?"

"What?"

Asper grabbed Cherry by the shoulder and shook. "Herman Tate-- where is he?"

"He's with the other sheep," said Cherry "It's not worth it to pass on or get your revenge. It's better to stay here. You got a better life as a ghost." His brow knit. "A better afterlife."

The rancher attempted to make sense of the raving. "He's hidin' at the ranch, you mean? Herman's still somewhere at the Tate place?"

"Look," Schim cut in. "As much as I enjoy watchin' you to fuck with Levi Asper, I need you to listen to me and listen carefully." Cherry regarded him with dilated pupils. Though no less frustrating, Schim knew Cherry wasn't quite as gone as his captors (or were they caregivers?) realized.

Marginally.

"The preacher is gone," said Schim firmly. "He's run off."

"He is?" Cherry blinked. The holy man hadn't crossed his thoughts.

Asper clapped his hands together. "I knew it!"

"We didn't see Tate around when we found the sheriff," said Bob. "I'm not sure he is there."

"Yes," said Schim. "I told you this would happen. I told you this was a terrible idea. I told you if you did this, you had to keep watch..."

"It's fine," said Cherry. "The preacher is right where I left him. Nothin's gonna happen."

"Where did you leave him?" asked Asper.

"He's not," said Schim bluntly. "He's gone. This is what I'm tryin' to tell you. He isn't where you left him. There is a demon in Brody's Cross!"

"Where did he go?" wondered Cherry. "I thought I knew where he was." These things happened, he supposed.

"This is gettin' us nowhere," said Asper, turning to Bob. "Go back to the Tate place and look for Herman."

"I thought you wanted the preacher," said Cherry, confused who he was addressing in his febricity. "Why the Tate place?"

"I want Herman," said Asper. "I knew he went to the preacher..."

"Who probably ate him," said Schim, speaking over Asper. "And is now loose somewhere."

"...but I didn't realize you were involved in this too."

Cherry frowned. "My head is killin' me. One at a time if you both gotta speak."

Asper was sugar and insincerity. "I'm satisfied that we got enough for the moment. Why don't you get some more sleep, Sheriff?" He added, smirking, "Don't you worry, I won't be lettin' you forget the hospitality I've extended. You're mighty lucky we came lookin' when we did. Mighty lucky indeed."

"Yeah, sure," scoffed Cherry. Sleep did sound good. The bed was cozy and Cherry's many ailments were overwhelming.

"What happened there anyhow?" Asper gave him a once over. "Somethin' maul you?"

Cherry yawned and stared at Schim. "Your wolfman got me, Jeff. Thanks for that."

"What are you talkin' about?" said Schim. Cherry closed his eyelids. "What 'wolfman'."

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"Hm," said Cherry. He didn't say anything else. His breathing slowed.

"I do believe that's the most civil I've ever seen Ewald Cherry," observed Bob, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, it'd be when he's incoherent. Fittin'." Asper crossed the bedroom, stopping by the door. "Take Declan with you when you head out. If Herman Tate is on his ranch, we'll find him."

"Got it," said Bob. Then, "If."

Both men were surprised to find Lindsey Pieth waiting at the threshold when the door swung aside. Bob gave him a curious look while Asper bellowed, "What are you doin'? Eavesdroppin'?"

Pieth stuck out his chin, pouting, "I wasn't listenin' long. Grandfather wanted me to ask if you've seen his compendium on..." He trailed off, matching his uncle's dark look with one of his own. "See here, I need Sheriff Cherry helpin' me. If you're takin' his time for this Herman Tate matter, it's not fair."

Asper scowled. He wasn't one to humor Pieth's moods. "I wasn't aware you were incapable of askin' a woman to return a trinket. What exactly do you spend your days doin'? You hang around here whinin' to your grandfather. Perhaps if you took some time away from that..."

"I don't whine," whined Pieth.

"You don't help around the ranch either," said Asper. "Or with the cookin', or the cleanin', or the management."

"Why couldn't you ask Sheriff Cherry to help you nicely? Why did you have to do that to him?" Pieth folded his arms. He'd seen his uncle strong-arm plenty of men. Cherry was just one more in a long list. "I'll have to wait until he heals and by then, he's not gonna want to talk to Miss Lacey."

Asper snorted and waved Pieth off. "No one touched the sheriff. We found him like that."

"Does he even want to talk to her?" derided Bob.

"Mrs. Schim assures me he's takin' the matter seriously," said Pieth with conviction.

Asper nodded over his shoulder, moseying past the youth. "Well, I hate to break it to you, buckaroo, but that man couldn't find a rattler in a nest of 'em."

"He's been bit by how many of 'em?" remarked Bob. It was an apt analogy, he thought.

"Whatever got him this time wasn't a snake," chuckled Asper. "Maybe it really was a 'wolfman'."

"Wait," called Pieth as the men descended the stairs. "What am I supposed to do about my problem?"

"Solve it yourself?" suggested Asper. "It's yours, you said."

Meanwhile, unseen and unheard, Deputy Schim did his best to get more out of Cherry before he gave into anemic fatigue. Moving beside the wounded man's head, he whispered harshly, "Hey! What do you mean 'wolfman'."

"The bastard with the different eyes," mumbled Cherry.

Schim clenched his jaw. Why did things like this continue to happen? "You saw him? I couldn't find him. I looked everywhere."

"I shot him too," said Cherry. "Six times."

Pieth, brooding in the doorway, took the opportunity to poke his head in. He'd heard the sheriff carrying on with himself. With earnest curiosity, he asked, "Who did you shoot?"

Cherry cracked an eye. "What are you doin' here? I'm busy."

"You shot someone six times?" Pieth couldn't imagine it. "Why?"

"Because the first five didn't take." Another yawn. "Then the bastard turned into a wolf and tore me up."

"Of course!" exclaimed Schim abruptly. His eyes went wide. "That would explain the state of Lacey Tate's body! That's why it's been ripped up!" It might have been hard for most to willingly accept. Given that he'd watched the sheriff fight off a monster two days prior and spent the last three years as a ghost, Schim took Cherry at his word. Not only had the outlaw murdered him, he was some sort of wolfman?

Cherry frowned. "I wouldn't know anythin' about that, Jeff. You never let me see Lacey Tate's body."

Pieth gasped audibly. "Lacey Tate's...?" Was this a part of Cherry's fever talk? Pieth covered his mouth with his hands, hoping there was no truth to the statement. "Miss Lacey is dead?!"

"Nnn," grumbled Cherry. "You got Lindsey goin'."

"You got him goin'," corrected Schim.

"Oh." Cherry recalled that only he could see Schim. This delirium was a kick in the pants. "Right. Shit." Then, "I'm gonna have to officially work on this one too. Damn it."

"Yes," said Schim smugly. "I would think so, Sheriff."

"When?" demanded the young man, stepping closer. "How?"

There was a chance of saving this, Cherry decided in his haze. He proclaimed, "She's not dead and she's not in a ditch somewhere."

Jeff Schim slapped his hand over his face and shook his head. "No. You idiot."

"What?!" Tears welled in Pieth's eyes. "No, not Lacey. I loved her. Who would want to hurt her? Tell me that's not true. Please, tell me it's not true!"

"Fuck," said Cherry. "Don't make me resolve this, Lindsey. Keep it to yourself."

"Oh, my poor Lacey!" sobbed Pieth, throwing himself at the foot of the bed and bawling into the blanket. "You did not deserve this!"

"Good job, Ewald," said Schim. "Top marks."

"Lindsey, for god's sake, leave the sheriff alone," called Asper from the foot of the stairwell. "I need him well enough to answer more questions if this doesn't pan out."

Lindsey Pieth very nearly cried out that his uncle was a heartless man and that his beloved was dead. He wanted to scream and curse the cruel nature of fate and proclaim the tragedy of young love lost. Then something inside him ignited. Wiping his tears, he pushed up and stood tall. "Sheriff Cherry, do you know who did it?"

Schim saw the glint in Pieth's eye. He knew that glint. It was the same glint that shone in his eyes when he thought about what he would do to the man who killed him. "Don't," he warned Cherry. Pieth was not like him. Pieth was a naive and entitled brat who would be annihilated if he set out on a course of revenge. As always, Cherry didn't care.

"Yeah," said Cherry. "The same bastard who did this to me. The wolfman with two different eyes."

"What does that even mean?" asked Pieth. "To begin with, most men and wolves have two different eyes-- their right and their left."

Cherry wouldn't endure anymore. "I'm not doin' this, Jeff. I'm tired."

Schim threw his hands up. "I'm not the one talkin' to you!"

"Where can I find him?" demanded Pieth. He'd already decided what he would do to show the depths of his love for poor deceased Lacey. There would be no doubt that he cared for her more than anyone could appreciate. It was important that others see that.

"I'd start at the Tate place," said Cherry, settling in to dream of anything except sheep. "But then again, who even knows."