Paw Enforcement 02 - Paw and Order by Diane Kelly

guy could either comply voluntarily or get his ass kicked.
    With a huff of anger and frustration, the guy set his boots on the ground. Clint looked down into them. “Just as I suspected.” He kicked one of them over and a metal flask slid out onto the pavement.
    Another huff from the redneck.
    â€œLet’s see here.” Clint rubbed his chin. “Looks like we’ve got a nice list of charges.” He counted them off on his fingers. “Littering. Public intoxication. Drunk and disorderly. Assault on a law enforcement officer—”
    â€œI didn’t assault you!” the guy cried.
    â€œYou assaulted my horse.” Clint’s eyes narrowed. “If you’d have hit me, I might have found it in my heart to forgive you. But nobody messes with my horse.”
    Desperate, the guy said, “I don’t think I’m drunk.”
    Clint snorted and looked my way. “That sounds just like something a drunk would say, don’t it?”
    â€œSure does.” I stepped forward now. “We could give him a sobriety test.”
    Clint raised his palms. “Be my guest, Officer Luz.”
    I pulled my penlight from my pocket and shined it into the guy’s eyes, checking the reaction time of his pupils. Yup. Definitely on the slow side. But might as well be thorough. Might as well give the guy a little payback, too, a little tit for his tat, shit for his shat. “Recite the alphabet.”
    â€œA, B, C,” he began. “D, E, F.”
    When he’d successfully recited his ABCs, he said, “See? I’m not drunk.”
    â€œInconclusive,” I said. “Fill in the blank. Once upon a midnight dreary, as I …” I made a circular motion with my finger, inviting him to finish the sentence.
    He looked up as if racking his brain for the answer. “Uh…”
    â€œWhacked off!” called a male voice from the crowd.
    I ran my penlight over the crowd. “Wrong answer.”
    Another guy in the crowd took a shot. “Tried on my girlfriend’s underwear!”
    â€œYou’re getting closer,” I said.
    A female voice chimed in now. “Turned into a pumpkin?”
    Did nobody in this crowd read the classics? I shook my head. “Sorry. Still wrong.”
    â€œGood guesses, though,” Clint added, giving the crowd a thumbs-up.
    â€œSee?” yelled the redneck. “They don’t know the answer either and they’re sober!”
    I stepped toward him and looked him in the eye. “Did you just admit that you’re drunk?”
    He looked up as if trying to remember what he’d just said. “Uh … no … I don’t think so.”
    Clint and I exchanged glances before turning back to the redneck.
    â€œYou’ve failed the cognitive test miserably,” Clint said. “But we can’t tell if that’s because you’re drunk or just plain stupid.”
    The guy’s face turned red with rage. “I’m not stupid!”
    Clint raised a brow. “So you are admitting you’re drunk, then?”
    â€œNo!” The guy looked from Clint to me. “No, I’m not!”
    â€œLet’s try a physical test.” I used my baton to gesture at his feet. “To the left.”
    He took a step to the left.
    â€œTake it back now, y’all.”
    He took a step back.
    â€œOne hop this time.”
    He hopped once.
    â€œRight foot,” I said. “Stomp.”
    He stomped his right foot.
    â€œLeft foot,” I said. “Let’s stomp.”
    He stomped again with his other foot.
    â€œNow cha-cha. And do it real smooth.”
    â€œWait.” His brows angled in consternation. “Is this ‘Cha-Cha Slide’?”
    Clint cut his eyes my way and offered a snicker.
    Realizing we’d had as much fun with the guy as we could without crossing the line, I returned my baton to my belt, my penlight to my pocket, and retrieved my handcuffs.