“Did you hear the news, Minty?”
“What, Dowdy?”
“It’s the Grippe—t’was started in the new Hanging Stoat. Mungo used bad, rotten wood for the construction, and it was infested with disease. Think about it: the Grippe started not long after the Stoat was rebuilt!”
Dowdy Cray, the wagon builder, had been telling Thimble Downers all morning about this latest theory, embellishing it more and more each time.
“It gets worse, Minty. Farmer Edythe knows about it and covered up the bad news with her campaign for Mayor!”
“No! That’s slander, Dowdy!” Minty was turning red under the collar. “Edythe and Mungo are friends of mine—and yours, too. I will naught ha’ ye libeling their good names!”
“Fine, think what you want, ya fool,” hooted Dowdy. “But think about the timing. I swear it’s in the rotten wood!”
In a huff, the wagonsmith stomped off down the street, leaving the tiny tinker by his cart full of wares. As he readied for departure, Minty heard more Halflings whispering about this rumor, impugning Edythe as running a dirty campaign for Mayor. He’d finally had enough and walked right over to the gaol to let Sheriff Forgo know. Yet as he got closer, he was sure the lawman already knew, as there were Edythe and Mungo giving him an earful.
“I’m sorry, Edythe, but that’s not illegal!”
“Spreading lies is not illegal?” Edythe was boiling mad. “We have it on good authority that Osgood Thrip, on behalf of the Mayor, has been buying drinks throughout the village and spreading this spurious rumor to anyone who’ll listen. And people are listening—I’ve been accused of being everything from a liar to a witch this morning!”
“That’s politics, darling, and I ain’t got nothing to do with that.” Forgo put his hands on his hips in exasperation. “If someone is breakin’ the law, you let me know, but lying is perfectly legal. Bring it up with Osgood or the Mayor, not me. Now if you’ll excuse me …”
Farmer Edythe and Mr. Mungo hurried off in a snit, knowing this was a big blow to her election chances. “That was a close one, Forgo.” It was Mr. Timmo, who had been quietly listening in.
“Yeah, this place is spinning out of control, and the last thing I need is some of Osgood Thrip’s shenanigans.” The Sheriff was exasperated. “And in the thick of it all, Winderiver decides to go on vacation.”
“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say that …”
“What do you know, Timmo? Tell me or I’ll clap ya in irons!”
“He’s in St. Borgo.”
“The capital? What the heck? And lemme guess, what vital piece of information has he withheld from me this time?”
Timmo could tell that Forgo was going to blow his top soon.
“He has the documents—Mr. Bindlestiff’s missing ones. And he’s going to get them translated.”
Flailing his arms and rolling his eyes, Forgo was beside himself.
“Why doesn’t that fool of a Halfling ever tell me anything? Of all the sneaky, backhanded tricks!”
“Sheriff, I think time was of the essence. He left almost immediately upon discovering the pages, which were in Ancient Dwarfish. Dorro has sought out a professor at the College of St. Borgo and promised to return quickly.”
“Do you have any other secrets for me?”
“No. But judging by the face of the young man behind you, I’d say, he does. And with that, I shall bid you farewell.”
Forgo spun around and saw his deputy, Gadget Pinkle, standing awkwardly by the gaol’s doorway.
“Ummm, Sheriff, can we have a word?”
“Don’t tell me yer quittin’ on me, Gadget! I have enough on my mind without having to find a new deputy.” Forgo walked brusquely past the skinny man-boy and into his office. He sat and groaned, knowing this wasn’t good news. “Out with it, Pinkle.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, but here it is—I’m the Pie Thief.”
Forgo bugged his eyes at the red-haired boy for a moment. Then he burst out laughing.
“That’s a good one, Gadget! You had me going there. I was all prepared for bad news, but thank goodness—I needed a giggle.”
But Forgo noticed the boy wasn’t laughing. He just stood there, looking at his feet. “Oh no, please don’t tell me—”
“It started a few months ago, just for a thrill, Sheriff,” began the deputy, speaking slowly. “But I was really good at it; I mean, really good. I can steal just about anything, big or small. But I was caught and now chose to confess.”
“Gub, gub, gub—you’re serious aren’t you?” Forgo was stupefied. “Who caught you, might I ask? Don’t tell me it was Winderiver!”
“No, it was Miss Tunbridge. She caught me dead to rights.”
“Yes, I know. Of course, she’s Winderiver’s protégé. And I’m sure she told Dorro—another reason for him to get out of town in a hurry.”
“But Miss Tunbridge made me promise to turn over a new leaf, under penalty of, errmmm, force.”
“That little slip of a girl threatened you?” Forgo was beginning to enjoy this.
“In fact, sir, she did so and illustrated her threat quite vividly.” Gadget rubbed his sore back as the Sheriff chuckled. “I promise, I was gonna return everything I took. It was just a thrill.”
“Fortunately, Gadget, I have way too many things going on to bother with you. Oh, I’ll punish you eventually, but this village is on the verge of chaos, and I need your help keepin’ it together. In the interim, young man, you will begin returning everything you stole. No, you don’t have to tell anyone, but I want everything back to its original owner, minus anything you ate. And if I hear of anything being stolen in Thimble Down again, I’m coming after you, deputy or not, and am going to toss your rear end in goal. Understand?”
“Yessir. And thank you, sir. And—”
“Gadget, shut up and get the hell out of here! Go return your booty and come find me later. We have work to do.”
“Thank you, Sheriff! You won’t be sorry!”
Gadget beamed with joy and dashed out of the gaol, verily dancing on air.
“No wonder that kid was yawning so much when I hired him,” figured Forgo. “Gadget was up all night stealing the citizens of Thimble Down blind. I shoulda known!”
Speaking of yawning, Sheriff Forgo put his head down on his desk for a quick nap. With all the commotion, he needed as much sleep as he could get.
A few minutes later, he was happily snoring away.