Layer 6: Tangling the Web The sheriff strode down the dirt road that made up Main Street in Typical, his gait bold and confident, a stern expression on his face as he surveyed the simple houses that stood to either side of the thoroughfare. People that passed by him heading the opposite way tended to glance meekly away and alter their path somewhat lest that icy glare fall upon them. It was not that the sheriff was aggressive -- or even discourteous. When his eyes chanced upon someone, he would nod in a stiffly polite if wordless acknowledgement. But it was just the brief experience of having that dark, penetrating glare upon them that made people feel as if the man were somehow peering into their soul and instantaneously taking account of every foul deed or thought they had ever had. The sheriff cast a disquieting, intimidating presence ... which was just how he liked it. But now, as he strode down the street, there were, for a change, a pair of eyes actually seeking him out. Those eyes peeked out from behind one of those houses that lined the dirt road; specifically, the residence nearest across the street from the jailhouse, it being the sheriff's presumed destination. And those eyes belonged to Geremiah Feldgud. Feldgud watched as the sheriff advanced down the street with his long, steady, almost bouncingly rhythmic strides. As he watched him walk, Feldgud started hearing music welling up in the back of his mind -- music with a steady, driving beat that matched the sheriff's pace. Unbidden and unwelcome, it continued building there with each step until Feldgud suddenly thought he heard a chorus of falsetto male voices start singing something about 'staying alive' -- Speaking of staying alive, the sheriff began to cast a glance toward the house behind whose corner Feldgud peered, and the villager quickly and awkwardly stepped back out of the lawman's eyeshot. Unfortunately, the unannounced movement caused him to collide with another person who had also been watching the sheriff, peeking around Feldgud as Feldgud peeked around the back of the house. Feldgud's companion uttered a sharp little cry of surprise and irritation at the sudden, unexpected contact. "SHHHH!" Feldgud hissed, raising an index finger to his lips. Then he whispered hoarsely, "Quiet, Bo!" "Oh for Heaven's sake, Gerry, he can't hear us way over here!" Feldgud's female companion retorted. "You act like he's got the ears of an ogre!" "SHHHH!" Feldgud repeated. Then he whispered, "Maybe not, but you can't be too careful!" The woman -- 'Bo' -- shook her head disapprovingly and let out an irascible grunt. She was in her early twenties with yellowish-blond hair that flowed down from beneath a pink bonnet and was styled into a bun in back. She had a pleasant face and an hour-glass figure over which she wore a dress which featured a pink top part that laced together across the front, and then a long white skirt spotted with pink polka-dots that hung from her waist down to her ankles. Her hour-glass figure was accentuated by a corset she wore underneath that forced her waist even thinner and pushed her already shapely bosom upward so that the top part of her cleavage was discernable above the lacing of her blouse. In one hand she loosely carried a long shepherd's crook staff. "Gerry, if you're so scared, why are you doing this at all?" she scolded him. "Why not just --" "I'm not scared!" Feldgud objected. "I'm just ... careful." "Yeah, right," Bo responded, smirking. Feldgud decided to ignore her, and peeked out again from behind the house just in time to see the sheriff disappear thought the doorway of the jailhouse and shut the door behind him. "Okay, he's in there," Feldgud said, turning back to her. "Time to do your thing!" "And just to make sure we understand what 'my thing' is worth," she responded, "you and/or your fellow serfer boys agree to watch over my flock for a month while I take a vacation from this po-hick seigniory. Right?" "Yes, Bo, yes!" Feldgud said, apparently in a hurry for her to get started, "Just as we agreed. As long as you can keep the sheriff distracted ... keep his attention on the meadows to the direction from the village OPPOSITE that of the Devil's Drainpipe for the next few hours -- " "And you swear to replace or pay for any of the sheep that end up missing in my absence?" "Of COURSE Bo," Feldgud agreed. "Jeez, you want a written contract?" "Yes, actually," Bo replied, then added with great reluctance, "but your word will have to do." Then she sighed, leaned on her staff and stared off into space, a dreamy expression suddenly coming across her face. "Still," she said reflectively, "if you come through, it'll be worth it." Feldgud, his curiosity temporarily overcoming his anxiousness, asked, "So where are you going on this ... vacation?" "Far Far Away," she replied wistfully. "Away to where?" Feldgud asked. Bo looked over at Feldgud, her reverie broken. "No, you moron!" she said. "To the KINGDOM of Far Far Away!" "Really?" This time it was Feldgud's turn to sound skeptical. "I don't know, Bo. I hear the cost of living's awfully expensive over there. You sure you can afford it on a shepherdess's pay?" "First of all, it's not 'shepherdess', it's 'flock attendant'," she corrected him indignantly. "And secondly, I'm pretty sure I can crash with a cousin of mine. He's a musician who works one of the snazzier nightclubs there. He used to be in the shepherding business, too, but ended up getting canned for inattentiveness. It worked out well, though, 'cause now he's hit it pretty big. Maybe you've heard of him. He's a horn player, goes by the name of 'Sleepy Boy'. He specializes in the blues." "No, sorry," Feldgud said, sparing another peek at the jailhouse. "I'm pretty much a minstrel show man myself." "Figures," she said dismissively. "Anyway, I'm hoping that while I'm there that Sleepy Boy might be able to pull some strings and help get me back on the road to my REAL career." "Your REAL career?" Feldgud repeated, now curious, and looked back at Bo. "Sure," she said. "You didn't think 'Bo Peep' was my REAL name, did you?" "Well ... I didn't know ... I assumed ..." Feldgud stammered. She smiled ruefully and said, "Nope. It's my stage name. I'm a showgirl. And now ..." here Bo took a few moments to fuss with the front of her dress until a bit more of her cleavage was highlighted "... it's Showtime!" "That's -- that's great, Bo," Feldgud stammered, then forced his eyes away from Bo's -- rearrangements -- and back to her face. "As long as you can keep the sheriff distracted --" "Don't worry, honey," she said confidently. "Bo KNOWS distractions." With those words, Bo boldly stepped from behind the house and began sashaying towards the jailhouse. Watching her move as he resumed his clandestine observation post, Feldgud was quite certain that distractions surely were one of her specialties. He was just wetting his suddenly dry lips with the tip of his tongue when Bo reached the edge of the road, stopped, and looked back towards him. "Have fun with the sheep!" she said, a little smirk playing one corner of her mouth, then she turned back towards the jailhouse and began crossing the street. * * * Bo burst through the door of the jailhouse. There she saw the sheriff sitting behind his desk, his feet casually propped up atop it, and a magazine in his lap. The magazine was titled 'Modern Crime Prevention Technology' and had a picture of a mace on the front cover. "Oh, Sheriff!" Bo cried, sounding as if she were out of breath and in a near panic. "I need your help!" The sheriff glanced up at her from his magazine, his muted expression a combination of irritation and restrained curiosity. He asked, "Can I help you, Ms ... Ms ... ?" "Peep," she replied, hurrying forward until she stood just in front of his desk. "MISS Bo Peep. I tend sheep in the meadows south of the village. Or I DID, but now ... well, I seem to have lost them and ... and ... I just don't know where to find them!" "Hum," the sheriff grunted, even the mild hint of curiosity now gone from his voice. "Well, Miss, it's been my experience that if you just leave them alone that they'll usually come home, in most cases wagging their tails behind them." "Oh, but Sheriff, you don't understand!" Bo implored. "It's very important that I find these sheep as soon as possible! I'll do anything if you could just help me!" Here Bo leaned over the desk pleadingly, placing her hands atop it and giving the sheriff a closer and better view of the top of her rearranged blouse. "ANYTHING!" The sheriff observed the proffered view for a few moments, his face stern and his expression wary. Then he looked up at Bo, cocked an eyebrow, and said, "Miss Peep, if you're attempting to --" Bo quickly stood back up and then continued, her tone still one of innocent desperation, "I've already tried searching around SO hard! I've done it across meadows, through woods, around streams ... and now I'm EXHAUSTED! Here, see --" Bo propped one of her feet up on the desk and pulled her dress back, exposing the shapely bare leg up to a few inches above the knee. "You see how swollen my leg is?" she asked, injecting just a mild touch of suggestiveness into her tone. "Miss Peep," the sheriff asked wearily, "are you trying to seduce me?" "Why, certainly NOT!" Bo said with exaggerated indignation, dropping her leg from the table with a stomp and looking defiantly at the sheriff. "I'm a desperate woman, and I came to you for ...HELP. But if YOU'RE not capable of helping me, then perhaps I should find another man who IS!" The sheriff heaved an annoyed sigh, then lowered his own legs from off the table and tossed the magazine aside. "Sorry, Miss Peep," he said. "But I'm rather determined to keep my position here in Typical on a strictly professional level. I've had some ... difficulties ... in previous positions with maids ... not to mention NON-maids." He ignored the venomous look she shot him as he reached into the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a parchment and quill. "Here," he said, handing them towards Bo. "Fill in this missing sheep report. If they don't come home within twenty-four hours then I'll launch an investigation." "But ... but ... but you don't UNDERSTAND!" Bo stammered. "In that part of the meadows we've ... we've had problems with ... sheep rustlers!" Suddenly a gleam appeared in the sheriff's eyes. "Sheep rustlers?" he repeated, his interest obviously piqued. "Yes!" Bo said, glad she'd found bait he might take. "They've been a terrible nuisance to sheep farmers from down in that area, and I'm afraid that if we wait too long, my sheep might be gone forever!" "Well, that's a bit different," the sheriff said, returning the parchment and quill to the desk drawer. "Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Bo tried to think of a response, and was relieved when she realized that he had meant the question rhetorically as he stood up from his desk and walked over to a cabinet set against a wall. "Please don't think I don't sympathize with your plight, Miss Peep," he explained, "but, frankly, for me it will be a welcome change of pace from this normally boring job to be able to mix it up with such scoundrels." He took a set of keys out of a pocket and unlocked the cabinet, and from it he pulled out a crossbow with a strap across it which he slung across one shoulder, and a quiver of bolts he strapped around his waist. Then he withdrew a rolled-up length of rope and hung it across his other shoulder. He then closed and re-locked the cabinet, re-pocketed the keys, then strode over to a nearby hat stand from which he took a brown Stetson cowboy hat. He reached inside the hat, withdrew a red bandana, placed the hat on his head and then tied the bandana around his neck. Next he turned back to Bo and said, "I'm going out back to retrieve my horse. If you'll be so kind as to meet me in front, then we'll ride out to your meadow and see about this missing sheep business." "Oh, THANK you, Sheriff!" Bo said, her voice heavily honeyed with gratitude. The sheriff tipped his hat. "Not at all, Ma'am," he said, then disappeared out a door in back. Bo exited through the front door and stood on the porch of the jailhouse. She looked at the house across the street, and after a moment saw Feldgud peer out from behind it. She glanced around to make sure she wasn't being watched, then flashed him a quick, clandestine thumbs-up sign. He nodded, then disappeared back behind the house. A few seconds later Bo heard the clip-clop of horse's hooves and turned to see the sheriff riding up from the alley beside the jailhouse on a large, handsome, cream-colored stallion. The sheriff stopped the horse beside her, held out an upturned hand towards her, and said, "Crook." Bo blinked. "I beg your pardon?" she asked. The sheriff gestured towards her staff. "Your shepherd's crook," he explained. "Oh!" she said, relieved. "Uh ... certainly." She handed him the staff, which he took and slid in beside the saddlebags. He then reached a hand down towards her again. "Here you go, Ma'am," he said. "Let me help you up." "Oh ... I don't know ..." She said dubiously, her eyes scanning the breadth of the large horse. "It'll be fine, Miss Peep," he said reassuringly. "Well ... all right ..." Bo said tentatively, then carefully reached for the sheriff's hand. To her surprise, he reached down passed her hand, seized her arm, and with surprising strength and coordination lifted her up off the ground to where she was sitting on the horse just behind him. It was all done with one swift motion and left Bo breathless ... and impressed. "Are you all right, Miss?" he asked. "Why ... yes ... thank you, Sheriff," she responded. "You'd best get a good hold, Miss Peep," he said. "We may be in for a bumpy ride." "Okay," she agreed, and slid her arms around his waist -- his slim, taught waist, as she could feel even through his garment -- and locked her hands just below his muscular chest. Then she leaned slightly against his broad, strong back. "Oh, my!" Bo sighed heavily. "What's that, Miss Peep?" the sheriff asked. "Oh! My ... my ... sheep!" Bo responded. "I just hope we can find my sheep!" "We'll do our best," he promised, and with a flick of his spurs and a grunted "gidyap" sent the horse trotting down the street ... until he stopped it after just a few paces and jerked its reins to have it turn the opposite way. He then peered down the street like an eagle eyeing its prey. "What's wrong?" Bo asked, and then followed his gaze. She was glad he couldn't see her, for he would surely have noticed her blush as she saw Feldgud scurrying down the street some fifty yards away. The villager stopped for a moment, as if he could feel the heat at the base of his skull, and turned around. He saw the sheriff looking at him and gave a start, and Bo could swear she saw the blood drain from his face even from this distance. Feldgud then quickly turned back around and resumed his scurry at a slightly quicker pace than before. "That's Feldgud," the sheriff said, his tone thoughtful. "He's a troublemaker. I gave him a dressing-down earlier today. I wonder what HE's up to now." Bo took a few seconds to recompose herself and think, then ventured, "Well, if YOU gave him a warning just today, then I'm SURE the man wouldn't be stupid enough to try something mischievous so soon, Sheriff. Would he?" The sheriff seemed to mull that over for a few seconds, then gave a grunt of what Bo assumed was agreement. He then turned the horse back around and they began riding off in the direction opposite Feldgud ... and the Devil's Drainpipe.