PATIENCE

                             by

                          Joe Doe


          AN EXPERIENCED SHERIFF TEACHES HIS YOUNG DEPUTY 
                 THE IMPORTANCE OF RESTRAINT. 


"I don't understand why we don't just arrest her, Sheriff," the 
young deputy said.  "She's sitting right there!" 

The tubby old Sheriff smiled indulgently at the folly of impetuous 
youth.  "Patience, son," he said, softly.  "Don't rush a good 
thing.  Now is the time to watch and wait.  Let me enjoy my 
waffles." 

The two lawmen had first seen the leggy redhead driving down the 
main road in her convertible.  As soon as he saw her in his 
binoculars, the deputy had wanted to pull her over. 

But the older and more experienced Sheriff had insisted that they 
wait. 

They had trailed her to the local diner, where she'd ordered a Diet 
Coke and a piece of melon.  The impatient and anxious deputy had 
a cup of coffee, while the portly Sheriff ordered the "Breakfast 
Belly Buster."  

"But we don't want her to get away!" the deputy said. 

"She's not going anywhere till I say so," said the Sheriff.  "I run 
this whole damn county.  Now pass the syrup and enjoy the view." 

The deputy looked over his shoulder again at the young woman, who 
was reading a book as she picked at her fruit.  She was certainly 
a looker, tall and slender with long red hair.  She was wearing a 
short denim skirt and a pale green half t-shirt with the word 
"YALE" on it.  White socks and sneakers completed the outfit. 

"This is your first day," the Sheriff observed.  "After thirty 
years I've learned that there is no rush.  Haste makes waste.  
Not only do you make mistakes, but you don't enjoy the experience 
as much." 

"It's kind of like fishing," the Sheriff said, warming to the 
subject.  "Some guys load their boats with gizmos and do-dads and 
sonar.  If you're going to do that you might as well just buy your 
fish at the store.  Myself, I like to sit in the boat, and drink 
my beer, and enjoy the day.  If you get a little nibble, don't 
pull her in too fast.  Let her tire herself out at the end of 
the line.  Get to know her."  He nodded, sagely. 

"Believe me," he went on, his speech slurred by a mouthful of 
waffle.  "Giving her a little line'll just make dinner that 
much sweeter." 

The deputy craned his neck, trying to look under her table.  Her 
knees were slightly parted.  If he could just get his head down 
and over, he might be able to see her panties! 

Suddenly the knees snapped together.  "May I help you?" asked a 
cool feminine voice. 

The deputy was so entranced it took him several seconds to realize 
that the source of his throbbing erection was now speaking to him. 

"I said, 'MAY I HELP YOU?'" the annoyed woman repeated. 

The deputy stared slack-jawed at the glaring woman.  After a 
pregnant pause, the Sheriff interrupted the silence. 

"No, ma'am," he said, smoothly.  "My partner thought he saw a spider 
on the floor by your foot.  But it was just a speck of dirt.  Sorry 
to disturb you.  Go about your business." 

"And you go about yours," she hissed under her breath and returned 
to her book.  "Freaking Mayberry towns," she muttered.  "First 
Goober at the gas station...now Andy and Barney at the diner.  
Freaking porker police." 

The Sheriff smiled and sipped his coffee as the woman cursed under 
her breath. 

"You see, son, I always let them have their way at first," he 
murmured, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard.  "It 
gives us something to talk about while I'm paddling their cute 
little behinds at the office.  And, of course, it'll just make 
it all the more satisfying when I finally slide my Willie into 
her smart little mouth." 

He slathered more butter onto his waffles and chuckled.  "She may 
have all the answers now," he snickered.  "But it's hard for a girl 
to talk when her mouth is full." 

The deputy nudged the Sheriff as the girl rose to leave.  But the 
Sheriff ignored him and continued to munch on his bacon. 

"No hurry, son," he said, the syrup dribbling down his chin.  "A 
girl like that's undoubtedly going back to the highway.  She sure 
isn't a local.  We'll catch up." 

Three blueberry muffins and four pancakes later, the Sheriff used 
the radio in his squad car to call for a status. 

"She's a graduate student at Yale, Sheriff," the voice on the radio 
crackled.  "She told Oscar at the filling station that she's on her 
way to visit her granny down in Florida.  Scholarship student....  
Doesn't look like she's got any powerful friends or relatives....  
Doesn't own a gun, either." 

"You see, son, by waiting I was able to find out all kinds of 
useful information," the Sheriff intoned.  "Last thing a man 
wants to do is try to slap the cuffs on some sort of Mafia hit 
woman or some idiot senator's daughter." 

He belched and adjusted his belt.

"You don't want to pick on someone who can fight back.  I never 
arrest criminals -- they're too dangerous and difficult to handle.  
Only nice girls go to the prison farm." 

They quickly caught up to the young woman's car, which was poking 
along the main road on the way to the Interstate. 

"Why don't we arrest her?" the deputy asked. 

"Still waiting on a question I have out.  But don't worry.  If the 
answer is what I think it is, she'll be doing naked squats before 
lunch." 

"Now, when we stop her, we'll use the speaker to order her out of 
the car.  We'll tell her to leave her purse on the passenger seat.  
You go check that first.  We need to make sure she doesn't have any 
damn mace!  Second, I want you to check and make sure she's as 
juicy a target as I think she is." 

"What'll I be looking for?" 

"Make sure she doesn't have too much cash or too many gold cards.  
Check to see if she has any credit card receipts that'll make her 
easy to trace to this area.  Most folks around here know better'n 
accept a card from a girl I might target...but, you never know.  
And make sure there ain't a picture of her standing next to the 
freaking President in her purse." 

"And if she's powerless?" the deputy asked, anxiously. 

"Then we'll slap on the cuffs and take her back for her strip 
search." 

"On what charge?" 

"Suspicion of prostitution," the Sheriff chuckled.  "It'll help 
knock her down a peg or two.  Plus it'll help her ease into her 
new life." 

A voice crackled over the radio, and the Sheriff picked up. 

"I just heard from Abdul," the dispatcher's voice said.  "He said 
they'd love to have an American redhead at next month's auction.  
They promise she'll fetch top dollar!" 

The Sheriff thanked his dispatcher and turned to his deputy.  "Hit 
the pinballs." 

Susan's heart began to race as she saw the flashing blue lights 
behind her.  She double-checked her mirror.  As expected, the FBI 
chopper was still barely visible in the far distance behind her, 
tracking her every move. 

The skilled special agent had been afraid that that damn 
doughnut-munching Sheriff was never going to pick her up.  
And, unless she was arrested, she'd never find out who his 
overseas contacts were. 

But at last her hard work was paying off.  "It's all just a matter 
of patience," she said to herself, as she slowly pulled her car 
over onto the shoulder of the road. 


END


Edited by C. Lakewood