The Sookie Stackhouse Companion

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Authors: Charlaine Harris
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gun laws, and there was no telling how stringently they’d be enforced on a local level.
    “You look too pretty to be standing out in the churchyard. I’m sorry,” Sam said, shaking his head. “This isn’t how I thought we’d be spending this time.”
    “Sam, it’s not your fault. I’m glad I can help out. I only regret it’s necessary.” There was a chance that planting the sign and killing the dogs was the end of the protest against the marriage. But that was a remote possibility.
    “I’m sorry you had to see the dogs; I guess . . . Well, that’s just sad. No one should have to see something like that.” Sam stared down at his feet.
    “I agree,” I said, my voice as steady as I could manage.
    From the flurry of voices in the living room, I could tell that Doke and Mindy and the kids had arrived. Sam and I went out to join them. We told them all the news. After some quiet discussion, they decided they’d stay at the house with the kids until it was time for the wedding. Mindy said, “All we’d do at the rehearsal is find out when to come down the aisle and sit in a pew, and I think Doke and I can manage that, right?” They were worried about Mason and Bonnie, and I didn’t blame them.
    When it was time to leave the house, I walked out with the others to find that a car was parked in front that didn’t belong to anyone in the family.
    “Hey,” called a short brunette who was leaning on the hood of the Saturn. She straightened and came forward to hug Sam.
    “Hey, yourself,” he said, and hugged her back.
    “That’s Sister Mendoza,” Craig explained. “They’ve been friends a long time.” Craig was afraid I’d get mad at Sam touching another woman.
    “She’s a nun?”
    “What?” Craig stared for a second. “Oh. Oh, no! Sister is her name.” He laughed. “She and Sam have been friends ever since we moved here. She’s a deputy at the sheriff’s department.”
    “Why is she here?”
    “I have no idea. Hey, Sister! Did you come because of that parking ticket I forgot to pay?”
    “Hell, no,” Sister Mendoza said, letting go of Sam. “I come here to be a watchman. Me and Rafe.” A short, thick-bodied man got out of the car. He was as pale-haired as Sister was brunette.
    “Rafe played football with Sam,” Craig told me, but I think I would have figured it out by the way they were thumping each other.
    Sam beckoned me over. “Sookie, these are some old friends of mine, Sister and Rafe,” he said. “You two, you be nice to this woman.” Sam was in no doubt that they would be. His brain was practically rolling with pleasure at seeing his old buddies.
    The two friends gave me a quick once-over, seemed okay with what they saw. Rafe gave Sam a fist to the shoulder. “She’s way too pretty for you, you old dog,” Rafe said, and they laughed together.
    “I’m taking the backyard,” Sister said, and she left.
    Rafe gave Sam a sharp nod. “You-all go to the church and don’t worry about things here,” he said. “We got your back. You got someone coming to the church?”
    Sam said, “We got the church covered.” He paused. “You two aren’t in uniform,” he said carefully.
    “Well, we’re off duty,” Rafe said. He shrugged. “You know how it is, Sam.”
    Sam looked pretty grim. “I’m getting the picture,” he said.
    I felt much better about the safety of both the kids and the house itself as Sam and I got into his truck to drive behind Craig and his mom to the church.
    It wasn’t a long drive. Wright was no bigger than Bon Temps. Drier, dustier, browner—but I didn’t imagine it was essentially different. We’d had trouble with demonstrators in front of the bar, but they’d gotten tired of getting hustled out of the parking lot, and they’d gone back to writing letters. Could my fellow townspeople do what someone had done here at the dog pound?
    But there wasn’t time to worry about that because we were two blocks west of Main Street at the corner of Mesquite

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