Sheriff Forgo tried to see straight, but was having difficulty—his world looked blurry and strange. He stood at his desk and walked towards the door, though his balance wasn’t perfect. He coughed a few times, too, but checked around to make sure no one was looking. At last, he stepped into the autumnal sunlight and felt a measure better. He stood enjoying the moment until it was broken by the sound of the Mayor’s harsh voice.
“Forgo! Forgo! What are you doing? Taking a nap?” The Mayor was still peevish after the licking he’d taken from Farmer Edythe the previous day. “What progress have you made on the mad thief? I need you to catch him—I’m running for election, you know! Don’t let me down, Sheriff … or else!”
“I know, I know … you’ll make someone else sheriff,” said Forgo in a deadpan tone, waving over his new deputy from across the lane.
He’d heard the Mayor’s threats many times before, but his head was getting fuzzier by the second, and in an instant, three things happened. First, Sheriff Forgo coughed, deeply and malevolently, bringing up a horrible ague. Second, he violently threw up all over the Mayor’s new suit and blue leather shoes. And then, the poor Halfling rolled up his eyes and collapsed on the street.
The Mayor was too mortified even to move, but wisely, Gadget Pinkle knew what to do and sprang into action. Shoving the Mayor (who was doubly shocked that a lowly deputy would dare lay hands upon his exalted person) out of the way, Gadget grabbed the Sheriff under his armpits and dragged him back into the gaol. A young lad was ambling by; the deputy deputized him with a few pennies to go fetch Nurse Pym. Another few boys helped Gadget move the Sheriff back into the cells and put him on a cot.
By this time, Forgo was burning up with fever, so Gadget dabbed his head with wet towels. The Sheriff’s face was growing paler by the second.
* * *
“How bad is it, Nurse Pym?” It was about an hour later, and Dorro was alarmed. Not only was Sheriff Forgo an important part of Thimble Down, but he was the bookmaster’s friend—one of the very few. “I saw the Sheriff yesterday, and he seemed fine. But Wyll and Cheeryup say they heard him cough as early as three days prior.
“Why didn’t yon kiddies tell me?” Pym was irked as she continued applying cooling towels to Forgo’s head.
“Apparently, the children were sworn to secrecy.”
“The fool! Forgo may be sharp as they come at sheriffing, but he’s an idiot regarding his own health,” she raged. “The gist of it is, Sheriff Forgo has the Grippe as bad as I’ve seen it.”
“But he will be better, right?” squeaked Dorro.
“That is no longer in my hands, Mr. Bookmaster.” Nurse Pym’s face was grave. “A few days ago, I’d have confined him to bed and with a wee rest, he might’a shown improvement. But at this point, his chances of survival are greatly reduced. I can hear it in yon chest and the way he’s wheezing.”
“You’re jesting, Pym. Forgo is strong as a bear!”
“I’m sorry, Dorro—but even they die. I’ll do my best, but he’s a sick lad. Big or little, fat or thin, young or old, the Grippe doesn’t discriminate. It’ll take anyone.”
Dorro was mute with shock. This can’t be happening. His mind was reeling. Forgo is one of the strongest Halflings I know. He can’t die!
Pym stood and scrawled out some basic instructions for Forgo’s care. She reminded Dorro that she was very busy with other patients and couldn’t come running over for every little thing.
“It’s up to Forgo at this point,” she said in the business-like way. “Either he’ll fight the Grippe off or not. But I’ve got to run—there are five more just like him in the village. Do your best, Dorro.” And Pym was gone.
Checking on the unconscious Sheriff one more time, Dorro wobbled to the front of the gaol, his mind in utter turmoil as he absently checked his pocket watch. Up front was a congregation including Gadget, the Mayor, Wyll, Cheeryup, and Orli, all looking concerned and bewildered.
“Look Winderiver, it’s unfortunate about your friend,” said the Mayor coldly. “But he has chosen this moment to leave us in the lurch. That said, I want you to take over this investigation into the thievery in the village. You are now our interim Sheriff.”
“What? Are you jesting?” Dorro’s eyes bugged out of his head. This was the most outrageous, ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.
“I am not, Bookmaster. You have aided Sheriff Forgo in the past with his investigations and, from what I gather, have had some success. The village of Thimble Down is currently in a crisis and, without the Sheriff, we have no law, aside from that idiot deputy. Thus, there is no one to hold down the fort, save you.”
“I am well aware, too, that there is no love lost between us, Winderiver,” the Mayor continued on. “But if you won’t do it for me, do it for Sheriff Forgo. Though it beguiles me that either of you could actually have friends, it appears that you two are friends, so do it for him. Find the thief. Deal with the Grippe. And keep the peace during the election. Do all this and I will grant you the political favor of your choice—something not too outlandish. I shall sign paperwork tonight and have it posted all over the village tomorrow, appointing you Sheriff Pro Tempore. That is all I have to say at the moment.”
And that’s all the Mayor did say. He turned on a tuppence and walked out of the gaol, leaving Dorro Fox Winderiver, absurd as it sounded, as the acting Sheriff of Thimble Down.