Max said, a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes. "I have an engagement with a mighty fine young lady tonight."
"Not too young, I hope," Dodd Keefer said as he followed Max into the library. "You wouldn't want your penchant for sweet young things to mar your sterling reputation, now would you?"
Max's smile dissolved into a solemn frown. "Why do you insist on bringing up that one indiscretion? It was years ago. And the girl told me she was eighteen."
"A married man should be faithful to his wife and not out chasing young girls." Dodd glared at Max.
"Something you learned from experience," Max shot back without blinking an eye.
Cyrus appeared in the doorway, a tray of drinks in his hand. Farlan cleared his throat, cautioning his guests to watch what they said, then motioned for Cyrus to enter.
"Is this some of that fine bourbon I'm so fond of?" Max asked as he lifted his glass from the silver tray Cyrus carried.
"Yes, sir." Cyrus offered Dodd the other glass.
"Thank you." Dodd lifted the crystal tumbler and took a sip of the corn mash whiskey.
Farlan studied his brother-in-law, a tall, slender, elegant gentleman. Dodd was now, as he'd been for many years, Farlan's best friend. It never ceased to amaze him how different he was from his older half-sister. As different as daylight is from dark, Dodd shared none of Veda's mental and emotional problems. He was highly intelligent, soft spoken and easy to get along with. Farlan had always liked him. Physically, Dodd and Veda shared the sa-me pensive blue eyes-die color inherited from the mother they shared-but Dodd's once sandy hair was now a multi-colored brown and gray mix. At sixty-four, Dodd lived alone and had since his wife's death ten years ago.
"Have a seat and we'll get started." Farlan motioned to two tufted leather chairs flan-king the fireplace. "Brian and Wade will join us when they finish their game."
After the two men sat, Farlan eased down on the overstuffed couch that faced them. He took a final swig of his liquor and set the glass atop a coaster on the sofa table behind him.
"Well, don't keep us on pins and needles. What's this meeting about?" Max lifted his glass to his lips.
"Politics. Our sheriff, our DA and our two circuit court judges are all Democrats, but we've still got a damn Republican mayor," Farlan reminded them. "I want us to get a jump start on the next mayoral election by finding ourselves a suitable candidate before the first of the year. We want to spend time building him up, letting the folks in Cherokee Pointe know there's a better man for the job than Big Jim's man, Jerry Lee Todd."
"You got somebody in mind, Farlan?" Dodd gazed down into his glass as if studying its contents.
"A few names come to mind. But the reason for this meeting is so we can put our heads together and see if the same name keeps coming up. If it does, we'll know we've got the right man."
"What about George Wyatt?" Max asked.
"He's better off left on the city council," Dodd said. "My recommendation is Joe Duffy.
He's a good age-forty-and he's married with two children. He attends church every Sunday, and since he has a thriving feed and seed business, he wouldn't be put off by the pittance we're able to pay our mayor."
Farlan nodded. "That's one of the names that keeps popping up in my mind." Farlan turned to Max. "Do you know of any dirt in his past that might jump up and bite him in the ass during a campaign?"
Max shook his head. "Not that I know of, and I've known Joe since he was born. He's lived here all his life, except for four years away at UT. And he married a local girl, Emily Patrick."
"So, are you saying you'd okay Duffy for our choice as a mayoral candidate?" Farlan asked.
"I suppose so."
"Good. But before we make a definite decision, I want to hear what Brian and Wade have to say. They're closer to Duffy's age and probably know him better than any of us."
Farlan relaxed into the comfort of the familiar old sofa, crossing his legs and
"Not too young, I hope," Dodd Keefer said as he followed Max into the library. "You wouldn't want your penchant for sweet young things to mar your sterling reputation, now would you?"
Max's smile dissolved into a solemn frown. "Why do you insist on bringing up that one indiscretion? It was years ago. And the girl told me she was eighteen."
"A married man should be faithful to his wife and not out chasing young girls." Dodd glared at Max.
"Something you learned from experience," Max shot back without blinking an eye.
Cyrus appeared in the doorway, a tray of drinks in his hand. Farlan cleared his throat, cautioning his guests to watch what they said, then motioned for Cyrus to enter.
"Is this some of that fine bourbon I'm so fond of?" Max asked as he lifted his glass from the silver tray Cyrus carried.
"Yes, sir." Cyrus offered Dodd the other glass.
"Thank you." Dodd lifted the crystal tumbler and took a sip of the corn mash whiskey.
Farlan studied his brother-in-law, a tall, slender, elegant gentleman. Dodd was now, as he'd been for many years, Farlan's best friend. It never ceased to amaze him how different he was from his older half-sister. As different as daylight is from dark, Dodd shared none of Veda's mental and emotional problems. He was highly intelligent, soft spoken and easy to get along with. Farlan had always liked him. Physically, Dodd and Veda shared the sa-me pensive blue eyes-die color inherited from the mother they shared-but Dodd's once sandy hair was now a multi-colored brown and gray mix. At sixty-four, Dodd lived alone and had since his wife's death ten years ago.
"Have a seat and we'll get started." Farlan motioned to two tufted leather chairs flan-king the fireplace. "Brian and Wade will join us when they finish their game."
After the two men sat, Farlan eased down on the overstuffed couch that faced them. He took a final swig of his liquor and set the glass atop a coaster on the sofa table behind him.
"Well, don't keep us on pins and needles. What's this meeting about?" Max lifted his glass to his lips.
"Politics. Our sheriff, our DA and our two circuit court judges are all Democrats, but we've still got a damn Republican mayor," Farlan reminded them. "I want us to get a jump start on the next mayoral election by finding ourselves a suitable candidate before the first of the year. We want to spend time building him up, letting the folks in Cherokee Pointe know there's a better man for the job than Big Jim's man, Jerry Lee Todd."
"You got somebody in mind, Farlan?" Dodd gazed down into his glass as if studying its contents.
"A few names come to mind. But the reason for this meeting is so we can put our heads together and see if the same name keeps coming up. If it does, we'll know we've got the right man."
"What about George Wyatt?" Max asked.
"He's better off left on the city council," Dodd said. "My recommendation is Joe Duffy.
He's a good age-forty-and he's married with two children. He attends church every Sunday, and since he has a thriving feed and seed business, he wouldn't be put off by the pittance we're able to pay our mayor."
Farlan nodded. "That's one of the names that keeps popping up in my mind." Farlan turned to Max. "Do you know of any dirt in his past that might jump up and bite him in the ass during a campaign?"
Max shook his head. "Not that I know of, and I've known Joe since he was born. He's lived here all his life, except for four years away at UT. And he married a local girl, Emily Patrick."
"So, are you saying you'd okay Duffy for our choice as a mayoral candidate?" Farlan asked.
"I suppose so."
"Good. But before we make a definite decision, I want to hear what Brian and Wade have to say. They're closer to Duffy's age and probably know him better than any of us."
Farlan relaxed into the comfort of the familiar old sofa, crossing his legs and
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