Introduction: What is discovery? Perhaps it’s finding something that you didn’t know existed. Maybe it’s finding a hidden treasure. Maybe it’s finding out something about yourself that many were aware of but you just didn’t know it.

Now the opera begins. Mannie meets with Sheriff John Craig. He is smitten immediately. He is nice but his heart is not in the same place hers is. He’s also about 20 years older than she is.

This work is copyrighted by the author and any publication or distribution without the written consent of the author is strictly prohibited. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters to persons living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter 8

John Craig, sheriff of these here parts, was mulling over some paperwork when she walked in. The apparent murder of Ben Martindale had been taking up quite a bit of his time. His foreman, Bob Williams had found his body just outside the northern boundary of Ben’s property. He’d been shot several times by two weapons. He’d probably died within seconds. Any one of shots would have been fatal.

He’d heard the unmistakable sound of a Harley pulling up outside, and briefly wondered who it might be. There weren’t that many Harleys in the area. The sounds of boot steps on the wooden porch brought his attention back to the reception area. He couldn’t quite see who entered.

“May we help you miss?” Gretchen, his receptionist and secretary asked.

John immediately envisioned a bull dyke bike rider. He wasn’t really being fair. There were several lesbian bike rider groups that would pass through Tagus every year. They never caused problems like the Hell’s Angels and Bandits did.

“Yes, I’d like to talk with Sheriff Craig.”

She certainly didn’t sound very butch he thought.

“I’m Emmanuelle Argerich. I am Ben Martindale’s niece.”

At this point, John was heading for the door. What he saw caused all his preconceptions to be immediately tossed into the recycle bin. She was tall; close to six feet in her motorcycle boots. She was dressed in a black leather outfit that left little doubt as to her sex. She was holding her helmet with her left hand. She had a mane of gorgeous blonde hair, and her makeup was subtle but undeniably feminine. Her blue eyes sparkled. John was in love.

“Miss Argerich, please come into my office. I’m so sorry about your uncle. He thought the world of you. He was a good man.” John motioned to a chair in front of his desk.

This was going to be interesting she thought. Obviously, Uncle Ben never told Sheriff Craig that he had a nephew. Since she’d never met Sheriff Craig under her previous mode, it was very easy for Uncle Ben just to say he had a niece. Then she remembered that her Uncle had raced Sheriff John on her bike. He must have had called her his niece even then. He had known even then what she would do, and do it not too far into the future. What a man, and now he was gone.

“Please, I’m just Mannie. Emmanuelle is a bit of a mouthful.”

“Great, I’m John. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to find out if you had any leads; any possibilities on who or what group may have done this. I understand he was shot by at least two weapons.”

“That’s right; a nine millimeter and a forty-four. They did a number on him. That spot is a favorite parking spot for the high school kids; however, that was a school night. Ben probably saw something and he climbed the fence, there’s a stile there. He put the stile in so that people could have access to the creek on his property. There’s some pretty good fishing down there.

“Say, could I take you to lunch? We could talk about things down at the Antelope. They have a good lunch down there.”

“I know they do. My mom and I are now co-owners. I ate there the other night with Bob and Maria. They are very upset by this whole thing. I know my uncle was well respected around here, especially among the Native Americans.”

“Gretchen, Miss Argerich and I are going to lunch. You know how to reach me.” Stepping outside, he looked at Mannie’s bike.

“That is some machine. I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you when you were here before. There was no way I could have caught it. How fast have you had it up to?”

“I hate to disappoint you, but the fastest I’ve had it up to is about 80. That’s the legal speed limit on some Texas highways. I have no desire to kill myself.”

“How’d you get that scrape on the fuel tank?

“That was there when I bought it in my senior year in college. A guy laid it down on a demo drive. I bought it essentially new with a huge discount. I bought a Prius a while ago for driving in bad weather and running errands, but I love to take this thing on the road.

“Mabel,” she said to the greeter, “could the Sheriff and I have a table in a quiet spot?”

“Certainly.”

It was past the busy lunch time, and Mabel took them to a far corner of the family dining area.

“Uncle Ben was a very secretive man. We really have no idea what he did or where he got his wealth.” Well, she did, but she wasn’t going to tell him. “Mom and I have inherited the ranch and this business among other things. I noticed that the oil wells are creeping right up to the boundaries of the property. He was adamant that he was not going to allow any drilling on the property; however, I understand with horizontal drilling those rigs could be drilling under the property and taking oil that is not theirs. If they are, I am going to put a stop to it.”

“I’d be very careful going up against those big oil companies. They are very powerful.”

“So, if they are involved in criminal activities, you’re saying you wouldn’t do your job?”

“Of course not. I’m just saying it might not be worth coming up against them for several reasons. For the first time in a long time people around here are making some money. Everything these oil companies used to do on their own, they now farm out to subcontractors. We have folks that do nothing but haul fresh water to the drill sites and haul frack water to the injection wells. Others haul drilling mud for the rig operators. Then there’re the guys who haul the drill shavings to the waste fields. There are the pipe haulers who do nothing but haul pipe from the pipe yards to the drilling sites. There are the home builders who are building homes for the laborers and executives who are moving into the area.

“If you cause problems for the drilling companies, you cause problems for all these people.”

“So I should sit back and let the big oil company steal from me and damage my land just so I don’t piss off the masses.”

“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. I’m just saying that unless you can really come up with something definitive, you’d better lay off.”

“And if these people had my uncle killed?”

“I will see to it that they are prosecuted if we can get the evidence. You can be assured of that.”

“Good.”

“There’s another group I hadn’t mentioned.”

“And they are?”

“There are a bunch of environmentalists, tree huggers, moving in. They seem intent on disrupting things. They’re generally pissing everyone off. I had to chase off a bunch of those Greenpeace people who were blocking access to one of the injection well sites. They can retain only so much water at the drilling sites. They essentially shut down the fracking operations at several drilling sites. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them ended up beaten or worse.”

Greenpeace: I wonder where Stevie is, she thought. I wonder what he’d think if he saw me now?

“You haven’t really told me anything we haven’t been experiencing in Arkansas. They’re doing the same stuff down there with the gas drilling. The only difference is that you’re not having earthquakes up here. Actually, there’s another one

“Your oil boom as you call it won’t last long; maybe ten, fifteen years. There’s not a great reservoir of oil down there. Just like there isn’t a great reservoir of gas in Arkansas. The boom will be over not too far in the future.

“Regardless of whether or not the boom is over is moot. The problem is who are the sons of bitches who murdered my uncle? I have a job I like very much in Arkansas. They have been nice enough to give me a leave of absence until things can be resolved. I have to figure out what to do with this restaurant and what to do with the ranch, and the latter does not include allowing any drilling for oil.”

“We will continue to try to find out who killed your uncle.

“To change the subject a bit, I was wondering if you would go out to dinner with me. I’d like to get to know you better?”

“I would like to get things settled a bit before I do anything like that. Thank you for asking, though.”

John paid for the lunch, shook Mannie’s hand and returned to his office. Mannie sat there for a while contemplating what had just transpired. John Craig was a handsome man probably in his late 30’s, early 40’s. In the short time she’d talked with him she found him interesting; however, she could tell they were definitely not on the same page about a number of things.

In the year since her surgery she hadn’t thought much about dating, although she knew that was a possibility. She’d often thought during her dilations what it would be like to have a man in ‘there’. She’d even managed to bring herself off, and that seemed to be getting easier over the last few months. Dr. Jones assured her that was going to be possible. It would just take time. The thoughts about having a relationship with a man were appearing more and more often.

Back in college she wanted to have a relationship with women. She understood that better now. If she found the right woman, there was no doubt in her mind that a lasting relationship might be possible. The relationship with men was something else. Three years before, a relationship with a man other than one like she had with Steve was not even close to a possibility; however, she realized her orientation had changed. Maybe it really hadn’t. Maybe it was the fact she’d been in the wrong body that had been the limiting factor.

Mannie throws herself into learning the operations of her uncle’s above board business. As far as the other things he may have done, it’s only guesswork. Things get a little rough at the Antelope Bar & Grill.