Southern Men: Ballad of a Texas Rose by Carla Kane Page A

fifty-five.’
    The sheriff was silent again. His cold, strong presence filled Clara’s car and she shivered for a second before silently reproaching herself for showing any weakness.
    ‘Well now listen here,’ the sheriff spoke, ‘maybe you thought this was a freeway but it ain’t . You passed the town line for Breslin Springs about a mile and a half back. That’s my town, little Missy.’
    Suddenly it was all too much for Clara. The heat, the sweat, the cramps and now this chauvinistic asshole toying with her here in the desert, probably because he hadn’t seen a woman without hair on her face for months.
    ‘Little Missy?’ Clara sneered, turning to face the sheriff, ‘seriously? Well how about this then, little Mister , you say this is a town? Who are you trying to kid? All I see is desert in every direction.’
    Again the short spell of silence. When he spoke his voice was as calm and as deep as it ever was. ‘Now listen here girly; Breslin Springs is the town where I was born and now that I’m a man, I’ve taken it upon myself to protect said town. What if you was to have hit somebody, speeding along out here like it weren’t nobody’s business? Whose fault would that be?’
    Clara sighed. ‘Oh give me a break,’ she said, ‘fine: you’re just doing your job. Why don’t you write me up and let me go on my way.’
    ‘You know you got an attitude problem, little Miss.’
    ‘Whatever, just give me my ticket.’
    The sheriff stood back from the window and produced a notepad. He began to scrawl a few lines and then tore off the page. He reached back towards the car and held the ticket out for Clara to take.
    ‘Here you go,’ he said.
    ‘Fine,’ Clara muttered and snatched the ticket, ‘asshole.’
    The sheriff paused, his huge, formidable presence wholly directed back on her. ‘What did you say?’
    For a second Clara felt a chill; the sheriff was so big and strong and they were all alone out here. What if…? She shook her head and smiled. Get a grip Clara, she told herself, it’s the twenty-first century. Now show him who’s boss.
    ‘You heard me,’ she said.
    The sheriff nodded to himself slowly and then turned his huge head to the side. He spat a stream of tobacco juice out on the road and then turned back to Clara. ‘Step out of the car,’ he said.
    ‘Ah shit,’ Clara whispered and then turned her most sympathetic face to the lawman. ‘Look officer, I’m sorry if I caused any offense, ok? I’m already late for an appointment across the state…’
    ‘Ma’am,’ the sheriff repeated, ‘I said: step out of the car.’
    Clara sighed and then unbuckled her seatbelt. She opened the car door and stepped out into the scorching heat. She wore a white blouse and a pair of tan slacks and she was sure there were sweat stains underneath her arms. How embarrassing.
    ‘Listen,’ she said, ‘I shouldn’t have said what I did, I know that. Lesson learned, ok?’
    The sheriff slowly shook his head and Clara marveled for a moment at his stature. He must have been several feet taller than she was.
    ‘ Naw -aw,’ the sheriff said, ‘little missy, I’m afraid you’re in no state to be driving. You need a little time to cool off and calm down before I let you back on the road. Someone could get hurt.’
    A wave of anger flashed through her. ‘Are you kidding me? You sexist son-of-a-bitch!’
    The ghost of a smile touched the side of the sheriff’s rigid mouth. ‘Uh-huh,’ he said, ‘just like I told you. Ma’am I’m going to ask you to turn around and put your hands behind your back so I can cuff you.’
    Clara winced bitterly. ‘Oh come on,’ she said, ‘you know there’s no need for that. You’re just fucking with me now.’
    ‘Protocol ma’am,’ the sheriff shrugged, ‘that’s the letter of the law. Now do like I told you before I have to draw my weapon.’
    Clara looked for a moment at the huge pistol holstered on the sheriff’s hip. Her eyes followed across along the