Walking into the jail and right into the Sheriff’s office gave me a weird feeling.
Dad explains the situation to the Sheriff, “We are here with the basketball team. The motel has no more rooms and we can’t afford the casino hotel rates.”
The sheriff is very understanding and accommodating. “You and your kids can stay here. It’s not much, but it is dry and warm. You are welcome to stay in this cell.”
“Sheriff,” I ask, “Can I bring my dog in? She is very good and she won’t bother anyone, I promise.”
He says as we walk through the jail, “No problem just keep her in the cell with you.”
Sheriff Sam is a tall man, soft-spoken, with brown skin. He has all the stoic features of Cochise and Geronimo combined, with high cheekbones, a broad forehead, and piercing brown eyes. His shiny brown western style boots match his official khaki uniform looks like a policeman’s uniform, but beige instead of blue. The shirt has western style pockets, collar, and short sleeves. On his forearm is a tattoo of an eagle, globe, and anchor.
His leather belt has his name, “SAM,” in capital letters on the back. The one and three-fourths inch finely tooled letters are carved into a two-inch by ten-inch strip of tan leather. That two-inch by ten inch piece is sewn to another two-inch wide strip of blue suede that is double-stitched to an equal width leather backing that completes the three layers of his custom belt. Sheriff Sam’s belt buckle is a status symbol. It’s sterling silver with a raised brass bronco rider in the center.
As he lets us in the cell he laughs, “Don’t worry I won’t lock you in.”
There doesn’t seem to be anyone else in any of the other three cells.
As I stand in our cell and look around, I feel much better about this whole thing. The room looks more like a tidy youth hostel. It has double bunks on either side, with mattresses, sheets, and comforters turned down at a corner. In one area is a color-coordinated bathroom with a door. Colorful curtains cover the barred window, and a nice woven rug warms the floor. On the beige painted cinder block walls are pictures of peaceful lakes and streams.
After running out to get Neewa and our stuff, Jackie and I return to the jail with Neewa in tow.
I then throw my sleeping bag onto a top bunk and shout, “I got this bunk.”
Quickly Jackie throws hers onto the other top bunk laughing, “Dad, I guess you’re on the bottom.”
Dad replies, “No problem, I’m better off on the lower bunk.”
Really, I didn’t care where Dad was sleeping as long as I got a top bunk.
Neewa jumps on the other lower bunk and curls up into a ball like she always does.
“I’m sleeping in my clothes,” I announce.
“It’s obvious we’re all sleeping in our clothes, Christina. This is a public place,” Jackie sarcastically replies.
It takes a while for me to get settled in our unusual surroundings. Jackie and I talk about telling everyone we know that we stayed overnight in jail.
“I’m going to tell all my friends back East, they will go crazy,” Jackie says.
“I can’t wait to tell Grandma and Grandpa,” I say, thinking the shock value of this is sure to worry them into begging Dad to bring us home.
Dad nods, “Your Mom would not be happy about this, and when you tell Grandma and Grandpa, explain it very, very slowly. Just tell them the truth, the motel had no rooms and it was the only place left in town.”
I laugh nervously, “This is so awesome.”
“Good night, Dad, love you.”
“Good Night, Tina, Jackie, love you.”
“Love you, Dad, Christina,” Jackie says.
“Good night, Neewa.”
Of course, Neewa is under the opposite bunk, watching everything. Then she disappears out of the cell door for a while. I let her go explore, hoping that after she investigates everything, she will settle down.
Later she comes back with a police escort. The Sheriff just couldn’t get enough of her. He tells us she has a good appetite. I guess he shared his lunch with her. Probably gave her most of it, as well as any leftover in the refrigerator from lunches interrupted.
I wake up at about three in the morning. The Deputy Sheriff is bringing in a man and everyone is talking and hollering.
Someone tells the man, “You have to stay here and sleep it off.”
“I’m not staying in this damn place,” the man yells back.
“Oh yes you are,” the Deputy laughs. “You are not getting behind the wheel of that truck until tomorrow. Now quit complaining and get some sleep before you wake up the whole jail.”
After the cell door closes, I hear the lock turn, “click’ and the keys “clink.” It’s quiet again as the new guy mumbles for a little while longer and then falls asleep.
Dad and Jackie sleep right through the whole thing, they don’t even stir or turn over. Neewa woke up and looked at me. If I had gotten up to go somewhere, she would have gotten up too.
I say to her, “It’s okay, Neewa, go back to sleep.”
She watches me until I close my eyes. I peek at her through my squinted eyes and she closes her eyes and falls back to sleep.
Morning sun barges through the barred window into the cell. We are up and packing, having gotten up as the day shift Sheriff came in and the night shift Sheriff is packing up. Sheriff Sam is going home.
Sheriff Sam walks through the jail with the day Sheriff and points at the man they brought in late last night. “Let him go when he gets up.”
Sam and the day Sheriff turn and look toward us. “Hope you slept well?”
I answer, “Everything was fine, thank you for having us. I never slept in a jail before, it was great fun.”
Dad nods, “Thank you. Is there a place close by for breakfast?”
“Marge’s Corner is just outside to the left,” he replies with a smile.
We gather our stuff, make the beds, and walk out the front door. It feels just as weird walking out of jail as it did walking in.
Two more inches of fresh snow have fallen since we arrived and the plows have already pushed it into piles.
As I walk to our car, I can see it isn’t snowbound. I throw my stuff in and walk Neewa around the block.
Dad starts the car and leaves it idling so it will warm up for Neewa. With the sun out, she will be as warm as toast in the van.
We walk over to Marge’s Corner for breakfast. Of course, I leave a window cracked open, and some food and water for Neewa. Later, the car will be warm for her while we are at the game.