He headed on his way back from another call about a black dog or wolf terrorizing farm animals. This is the fifth call today, and it was getting annoying. Most of the residents of Wake County had firearms, at the very least, shotguns. There is a standing agreement with the Sheriff’s Department that residents could kill the predators if they endangered livestock or, in the extreme, family members and guests without the need to notify the Department.

Dead animals are scheduled for pickup and disposal by the Game Warden. So, coming upon a disabled vehicle was a welcome change of pace for interim Sheriff Mitchell Walker, especially a pretty, long, blonde-haired young woman. Well, what do we have here? he thought to himself.

He picked up the mic on his radio and called in. “Operation, this is Adam 112. Checking out disabled vehicle between mile markers 107 and 108. Over,” he reported.

“Roger Adam112. Should we call Bobby? Over,” came the reply on the other end.

“I’ll get back to you on that. Over,” Mitch responded.

“Roger that. Be safe. Over,”

“Always, Pardo. Over,”

Mitch exited out of the Jimmy and closed the door while he looked at the young woman. Mitch read the woman to find out her mental state and how best he could approach her. Typical disabled vehicle checks with lone drivers often meant frustration and agitation. Though she seemed dejected and frustrated, this woman seemed more levelheaded than most as she turned to face him.

The thought she was extremely attractive ran through his head. She stood about 5’ 10” and appeared to have an athletic build, given the tone of her long legs that flowed from the jean cutoffs she wore. His reading stopped at her waist as the white linen shirt she was wearing had not fallen back over her weapon.

He could approach this in two ways. Aggressively or passively. Aggressively did not seem the way to go since, as she turned to him, she had raised her hands about chest level with her hands open but in receiving manner. He surmised she knew how to convey her intentions when the need arose with law enforcement.

“I thank you, Ma’am, for your compliance,” he said, to show he understood her intentions for them both to be safe. “I assume you’re having car trouble. “

Jes looked at the tall man. “You assume correctly.... Deputy?” she responded in a drawn-out tone, stating she was unsure how to refer to him. Well, he hasn’t shot me yet, so maybe not a horror movie. The random thought popped into her head.

“Interim Sheriff technically, but Sheriff will do, I guess for now.... Miss?” he answered as he slowly closed to distance between him and her with his hands to his sides, palms facing her. Mitch couldn’t help but notice her deep blue eyes. They were vibrant in the midday sun, but he could tell she was tired.

“Masters. Jesalyn Masters, Sheriff,” she responded. “How do you want me to comply?” Please don’t make me lie spread eagle on the hot ass road.

“Well, I’m in a small conundrum about that. Policy dictates I should call for a female deputy to disarm you, but I do not think you can wait that long,” he stated, noticing she was wiggling her legs. National call sign for I have to pee. I really need to think of something quick before her bladder explodes.

Jes felt the heat rise in her face. This man read people well, “You would be correct. I offer a solution,” she stated as so far, he seemed concerned about her welfare.

He smiled at her, having noticed her blushing. “Does it involve you using your off-hand?” he asked as he lightly chuckled. She nodded as she also had bitten her lower lip out of nervousness, “Okay, then please slowly hand me your weapon with your off-hand.”

Jesalyn slowly lowered her right hand with deliberation to move her shirt away from her weapon. Once she did, she shook her left hand before she went to use it. Again, with slow deliberation, she moved her hand to retrieve her weapon. Once she pulled it, she slowly handed out to him, barrel facing down at the ground.

He received it from her as slowly as she handed it out. The notion she obviously was skilled with at least handguns had run through his head. She rigged out the firearm with a Trigicon RMR and Streamlight TRL 7A weapon mounted light. “Nice setup, Miss Masters, “he said with a small tone of admiration.

Mitch pressed the magazine release to eject the magazine. He had side-stepped toward the back of her Jeep to place it on top of the bedcover of the vehicle gently. “I assume you’re a one in the chamber person?” he asked, as most people he knew that carried a weapon for self-defense did.

“You’re good at this, Sheriff. You assume correctly once again,” she politely smiled as she confirmed his assumption. His actions and demeanor set her at ease. The situation could have gone completely wrong had he been a dick. He has a nice smile.

“Not my first rodeo, Miss Masters, but thank you for the compliment.” He had tilted the ejection port away from him when he ejected the 9mm hollow point into his free hand and then he locked back the slide. For an added measure, he stepped forward slowly and leaned toward her to show the weapon was empty. She nodded in agreement and then he placed the gun next to the magazine on the Jeep.

At this moment, he noticed she was really wiggling her legs. He looked toward where she was walking to and then back to her. “I promise not to peek,” he said as he made a motion with his head toward the boulder.

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“Oh my God! Thank you!” she said in zealous glee, and then she scurried off to the boulder.

Mitch chuckled at the sight of her scurrying off was as comical as it was a joy to have watched. He turned away, having realized he was admiring her butt a little too much. Though for this type of interaction, it was more than a welcome reprieve from the rash of ‘Cry Wolf’ calls the Department was experiencing as of late.

Honestly, he dreaded this interaction to end. She was beautiful and seemed different from women in Nowhere. Though it was really easy to come to that conclusion, as this woman handled herself with disciplined composure. The women in Nowhere, Nevada, lumped into three categories. Entitled bitches or Karens, too eager, and married. There were a few exceptions, good honest women, but they were hard to find since Nowhere had a way of transforming people who came there, or they left before that happen because they were smart.

He shook his head at the thought of his assumption she was going to Nowhere. His luck she is just passing through to go to Vegas. He heard rustling from behind him that made him turn back around.

Jesalyn moved slowly back toward her Jeep, keeping her hands out with her palms facing him. “Thank you, Sheriff. One too many large coffees,” she said with a smile, her cheeks still holding a slight blush of embarrassment.

He waved his hand off saying “Not a problem, Miss Masters” he sighed a little. “Now I have to ask form your identification, registration, and your concealed carry permit,”

“All of that is in my sun visor pouch,” she pointed to her Jeep.

“Is okay if I get it or would you prefer to get it?” he asked.

“I assume you’re asking because if I say you can get it; I have given you consent to search?” she quizzically replied.

This woman is as smart as she is attractive, he thought to himself. Then it hit him. “You law enforcement?” he asked, knowing that only law enforcement, lawyers, and criminals with priors held that kind of knowledge.

“Not currently. I was Military Police in the Marine Corps,” Jesalyn replied.

“Well then, thank you for your service. I was in the Army for a good stretch myself,” Mitch replied. “So yes?”

Jes nodded in compliance. “Law enforcement?” she inquired, to confirm her suspicion that he had been as well.

“No. Nothing that exciting. I was with The First Ranger Battalion,” he offhandedly said as he opened the door and located her information exactly where she said it would be. Through a quick cursory glance, he deduced she was a very organized and tidy woman. Trash was in a plastic bag. Her phone was in a holder and plugged into a USB port on the radio. Marine corps story holds up so far. This car could pass a white glove inspection. He thought to himself.

“Oh yeah, being an Airborne Ranger had to be so dull,” Jes said in a jokingly sarcastic tone.

Mitch looked at her driver’s license. It was from Virginia, and it matched her registration from the Jeep. He founded it interesting that her concealed carry license was from Nevada. “So, Miss Jesalyn Illyanna Masters, twenty-eight years old From Virginia,” 5’10” 145lbs Blonde hair and blue eyes. He mentally checked over her physical stats without saying them out loud.

Normally he was not this overtly friendly with strangers, but there was something about her sarcastic comment that had set him more at ease. He thought it to be like the friendly rivalry that was the staple of all the Armed Services branches. He went along with it. “You have something against Airborne Rangers?” he asked with a smirk.

Jes caught his smirk, and she knew it was game on. “Only in the pecking order of elite forces; you guys rank way under Navy Seals,” she launched her friendly volley.

“Oh, well, those guys are famous badasses. Movies, tv shows, and stacks of books written by or about them. How is a Ranger to compete with all of that?” he stated with an overdramatic flair. “I take it you know a few?”

“I did,” Jes replied with unintended sorrow in her voice. She recovered quickly, while she commented, ... and it is Illyana. Thank you very much.”

She must have known he was joking, but that joke had struck a chord. One he had known too well. Loss was a universal language that only those who have endured loss are fluent in. “Illyana, right. That is a Russian name, correct?” he asked, to help steer away from the bad thoughts he inadvertently called up in her mind.

Jesalyn noticed his gazed and the steering he tried to perform away from that discussion she was not ready to have with anyone now. “Da, eto russkoye imya,” she said with a perfect Russian accent.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had not heard Russian spoken so fluently in quite a while. “Ochen priyatno, Miss Mastera, yi govorila takim krasnorechiem. ya ochen vpecatlen,” he replied with a smile. He had not spoken it since his time with the Rangers.

She nodded her head in approval with an impressed smile. “I’ll go out on a limb and say you learn as part of your Ranger unit.”

Mitch handed her identification to her.” Yes, but that was a lifetime ago. So, you’re from Virginia; why so far from home and why a Nevada CCW license?” he asked.

Jes having taken her identification from him as she replied. “I needed a change of scenery, and my dad was born here in a town called Nowhere. He has some property here that I have inherited. I figure it would be a pleasant change of pace. While I figure out where my life goes from here,” she relayed as she put her stuff back in the visor. “I applied for the CCW license online since I was going to live here for a while. The process was overly simple since I had my Virginia CCW already,” Jesalyn explained. “Now I really need to get this tire changed. I have to meet the Property Management lady at three.”

“Oh yes. Let me offer my help since you are obviously not a criminal, and it was my intent anyway for stopping,” Mitch smiled.

“Well, I would never stop someone intent on helping me,” she laughed, enjoying this brief reprieve from the misery that had been in her life for over a year now. “Can I arm myself or do you want me to place it in the Jeep?”

“You can rearm yourself. I trust you,” he replied. It made no sense to him to make her stow it away. He carries a weapon every day, even when he’s off duty. Besides, she was going to be sticking around the area, and he was all for responsible gun owners, which, by her actions, she had proven. Some law enforcement officers would do the opposite to satiate their power of control fantasies. He saw his gesture as a token of good will. Besides, there was something about her. A familiarity he hasn’t quite figured out yet. “Is the spare under the bed?”

“Yes,” she responded as she took her Staccato, replaced the magazine, and worked the slide catch as a slide release. Jesalyn performed a press check, then ejected the magazine as she placed the gun in her appendix rig. She took the lone 9mm hollow point and replaced it in the magazine, then inserted the magazine back in the gun. Then made sure her white linen shirt covered it this time before she went to the back and lowered the tailgate to get to the compartment where the jack was.

Mitch had watched in appreciation of Jesalyn’s practiced grace with the firearm. He thought to himself, the women in Nowhere were going to either hate her or they were going to be her best friend. Yep, she was going to create quite a stir in town. He also thanked God that she was moving here. Mitch would like to have time to know her better. Then it finally clicked her in his mind. Her last name was the same as the man who owned the property across from his mothers. “Your Harlan Masters’ daughter?”