Welcome To Cowbell, Daniel Chesterfield

By Glenda Norwood Petz

Meet Daniel Chesterfield, a 6'7" foul mouthed straight arrow with a trite sense of humor and deep love and respect for law, order, and justice. Trading in his detective shield in Palm Beach County, Florida for a Sheriff's badge in the rural town of Cowbell, Montana, Dan is assigned to take over the Bear C

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tiger Eye Publications, LLC
• Release date: Nov 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781088123782

Glenda Norwood Petz

Native South Floridian now residing in Clarksville, Indiana.

Book preview

Welcome to Cowbell,

Daniel Chesterfield

A picture containing weapon Description automatically generated

Glenda Norwood Petz

Other titles by Glenda Norwood Petz:

A Requiem for Revenge

Ghost Girl

Hurricane

The Punishment Room

The Children In the Woods

Dream Weavers

Apollyon’s War

The Fall of Autumn’s Becoming

All rights reserved.

Copyright© Glenda Norwood Petz, 2022

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by photostat, microfilm, xerography, or any other means, or incorporated into any information retrieval system, either electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the copyright owner.

ISBN#

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Manufactured and Published in the United States of America, 2022

First Print Edition

For Wayne Bo…my heart was shattered when you left us. I think about you every day and will always love you. Til we meet again…

Chapter 1

I have somethin’ I wanna give you before you go home, his Uncle Clete told him, leading him to a wooden shed in his backyard. Here, put these on, he said, tossing him a pair of thick work gloves.

Did you find a meteor? Scooter laughed. Or a moon rock?

Not even close, Clete told him, placing a massive chunk of copper ore in his hand. Boy, don’t you dare handle that shit without gloves. It’ll melt the skin right off your bones.

He didn’t know if Clete was serious about the rock dissolving his flesh or if he was trying to scare him into being cautious. Not being familiar with the potential dangers of handling raw ore, he wasn’t willing to take any foolish chances.

What am I supposed to do with this shit? he asked. It’s nasty.

That rock you’re holdin’ has lots of uses.

Like what?

Copper gets mined, boy, and turned into all kinds of technological gadgets that makes other shit work the way they’re supposed to. Remember that the next time you turn on your radio or boot up that computer machine you love playin’ with so much, he told him.

This don’t look nothing like anything I’ve ever seen in my electronics, Scooter said, turning the rock in his gloved hand.

That’s because the one you’re holdin’ ain’t been processed yet, you idiot. It has to go through a bunch of steps to get it to where it can be used in televisions and shit.

That right? Scooter asked. Whatever it’s used for, it stinks like a sewer.

That’s the oxide in it, Uncle Clete stated matter-of-factly.

Scooter supposed Clete knew what he was talking about since he’d started working in the mines in his teens and was now pushing sixty. It sure couldn’t be because he was educated in the field of science since he never made it past the seventh grade. Uncle Clete had always said that experience was a better teacher than a fifty-thousand-dollar education at a college or university. He must’ve been right because he sure got along alright moneywise, even without finishing school.

Personally speaking, school had always been a struggle for him. It wasn’t that he was incapable of learning, he just never liked going and had no interest in learning shit that wasn’t important. He found school boring and repetitive. He reckoned he’d learned enough through the years to get by on. It wasn’t like algebra was a requirement to perform his job. The difference between him and his uncle was that he hadn’t been a quitter. Even with all the bullying and name calling from the other kids his age, he’d been determined to acquire his high school diploma. Which he had.

He’d never had any close friends. Definitely no steady girlfriend. He wasn’t athletic and didn’t like sports. Except for shooting. He loved firing his weapons. He was damn good at it, too. That alone had been enough to land him the job he currently had, so he must’ve done something right.

It’s good for other things, too, Clete said with a wink.

What kinds of other things?

Well, Clete said, scratching his stubbly chin and chuckling. If you ever get a hankerin’ to kill that piece of shit daddy of yours, that stuff’ll do it. Wouldn’t be no great loss as far as I’m concerned. That man’s as worthless as tits on a boar hog. He always has been.

How the hell would I kill him with this? Scooter asked, staring thoughtfully at the ore. Conk him on the head with it? It’s sure big and thick enough to put a hurtin’ on him.

Clete laughed. No, dumbass. You’d need to melt it down to turn it into a killer.

How?

Liquifyin’ copper turns it into a deadly toxin, Clete told him.

How the hell would you know that? When did you become a scientific expert?

Who the hell said I was? You learn a few things when you’ve been in this kind of business for as long as I’ve been. If you don’t believe me, look it up yourself.

Scooter’s curiosity was piqued. A thought suddenly crossed his mind that’d never been there before. What if I did melt it? What would happen to it then? Not that I’m planning on killing anybody with it, he said. I’m curious is all.

What happens is that the rock turns into liquid, the liquid is poisonous, and will kill whoever ingests it.

What’s that mean?

Good gawd, boy, didn’t you learn nothin’ in school? Ingestin’ it means to eat it or drink it. You put that melted shit in somebody’s food, water, or coffee and they’ll be dead within days. You wanna know the coolest part?

Yeah, Scooter nodded.

It’s damn near impossible to find it in a person’s body durin’ one of them there procedures where a doctor slices up a person and takes out all their innards. Their death will appear natural.

"It’s called an autopsy, Uncle Clete, and nearly impossible doesn’t mean the doctor won’t find it."

Only if he knows what he’s lookin’ for.

Hmm, Scooter grunted. If I wanted to do that, how would I go about doing it?

It’s called smeltin’, Scooter. Get on that computer machine of yours and look it up. There’s all kinds of videos on that interweb thing that’ll teach you how to do shit like that. Hell, I even watched one that showed me how to build a bomb, he laughed, revealing his brown, tobacco stained teeth.

How about that? Scooter said absently. Clete had given him an idea, one that didn’t include killing his shitty daddy. If he did that, he’d never get the money he’d promised him, because his shitty daddy would only receive his inheritance when old man Cooper died.

It’d be nice to finally have a decent amount of money for a change and not have to struggle paycheck to paycheck. He thought about all the nice things he could buy for his momma that she’d been wanting for a long time but could never afford. Decent furniture for their house. A new dining table with chairs that didn’t have holes in the fabric. A week’s vacation on a Florida beach soaking up the sun. God knew she deserved it after the many hardships she’d suffered raising a child on her own with no help from the aforementioned shitty daddy.

I can see the wheels spinnin’ in that head of yours, Clete said. I don’t know what you’re thinkin’ about, but you do know I was only jokin’ about killin’ your daddy?

I figured as much, Scooter replied. Neither one of us are murderers.

If you’re plannin’ on liquifyin’ that rock even after everythin’ I’ve told you, then you need to listen to me and pay close attention.

Scooter glanced up at his uncle. I’m listening, Uncle Clete.

The process needs to be done in a well aired out place, not inside your house and not in that tool shed of yours. Go out in the woods away from the house so that the fumes don’t get inside. Wear protective clothin’ and gloves, includin’ eye goggles. Make sure your mouth and nose are covered. You breathe that shit in, boy, you’re as good as dead. You hear me?

Scooter nodded. Yes.

Once it’s liquified, you’ll need to put it in a safety container. Don’t use anythin’ plastic. Understood?

Understood, Scooter said, wondering why Clete was offering advice on how to smelt the ore into a toxin if he’d only been joking about killing his daddy.

Good, he said, clapping Scooter on the back. How’s your momma doin’?

Clete was his mother’s only sibling and the eldest of the two. He hated his daddy as much as he and his mother did.

Fine. Ornery as ever.

Always has been. Don’t see that ever changin’. You heard from that piece of shit daddy of yours lately?

Nah, he answered. I’d rather not to tell you the truth. Me or momma neither one’s got any use for him.

He still workin’ for that Cooper fella?

Last I heard he was. I don’t make it a habit to ask about him because I don’t care.

The way I see it is you and your momma have done fine without him and I expect you’ll continue to do so. Didn’t need him then, don’t need him now.

We have, Uncle Clete. You’re right. We don’t need him.

You’re a good son, Scooter. You’ve always taken good care of your momma, boy, he said, patting him on the back. I reckon that ain’t likely to change. It’s somethin’ you should be proud of. A grown man that still cares for his momma is gold in my eyes.

No, sir. It ain’t gonna change. As long as I’m alive, my momma ain’t got nothing to worry about.

Glad to hear it. You hitched up with anybody yet?

Scooter laughed. Hell naw, he said. Furthermore, I don’t intend to. Women ain’t nothing but trouble.

I hear ya, Clete chuckled. You’re a good lookin’ enough lad. I’m surprised the ladies ain’t flockin’ around you. How old are you now, Scooter?

Twenty-three. Twenty-four come December.

And nobody’s interested in you? You don’t bat for the other team, do you, if you know what I mean.

That’s disgusting, Clete. I ain’t interested in fucking another man. I go out with girls sometimes. I’m just not real concerned about it. I got better things to spend my money on, what little bit I got. Girls always expect you to spend a ton to show them a good time, then won’t even let you kiss them goodnight. I ain’t into that shit. If I pay fifty dollars at a restaurant to feed a girl, she’d damn well better be ready to do something besides say goodnight.

In other words, you want a girl that’ll spread her legs for you?

Hell, yeah, I do. That’d be a nice way to say thanks.

If that’s how you feel, then you might want to consider gettin’ yourself a hooker when the horniness hits you. They only expect to get paid for their services and you ain’t gotta feed ‘em first.

Clete didn’t need to know that he’d already done that. Multiple times. If he told him about his experiences with prostitutes, then he’d tell his momma, and his momma would nag the shit out of him about finding a decent girl and to quit dipping his stick in dry oil wells. The last thing he wanted to do was have a discussion with his momma about how he handled relieving his hard dick when sexual urges struck him.

How’s your job goin’? They gonna put in a new sheriff to take the place of the one that died?

Yes, but not anyone from Cowbell, Scooter answered. They hired some big shot detective from Florida who’s gonna come in and show us how things are supposed to be done when he ain’t even from here. There’s a big meeting tomorrow so all of us can meet him.

Don’t get too excited about it, Scooter, Clete teased. You might pull a muscle or somethin’.

Guess I’d best be getting back to Cowbell, Scooter said, wrapping the ore in a piece of burlap and securing it with rope before placing it inside his duffel bag. It’s my day off and I promised momma I’d be home in time for supper. She’s cooking chicken and dumplings, and I sure don’t wanna miss that.

Don’t blame you, son. Your momma’s always been a great cook. Eat enough for me.

I will, Uncle Clete, he said, hugging him goodbye. Thanks for the gift.

With the ore stored safely on the top shelf inside his tool shed, he removed his gloves and the bandana that’d covered his nose and mouth and placed them inside his knapsack. He’d throw them in the hamper once he got inside and do his laundry after dinner.

He could smell the aroma of momma’s cooking wafting through the kitchen window as soon as he stepped out of the toolshed.

Smells good, momma, he said, kissing her on the cheek before heading to the bathroom. Once he was freshly showered and had a full belly, he planned to use what Clete had referred to as that computer machine he loved so much and do some research on the uses of copper ore. Instead of smelting it into a toxin that he had no use for, he could turn it into a nice piece of jewelry for momma, like a bracelet or a ring. She’d love that. He could surprise her with it. She had a birthday coming up soon. She’d appreciate it even more when he told her that he’d made it himself.

Went to see Clete again, didn’t you, Scooter? she asked, crinkling her nose.

How’d you know that?

You always come home smelling like a septic tank afterwards.

Chapter 2

Hey, asshole, can you read? The sign says parking is for authorized personnel only. You ain’t authorized, so move your ass.

My apologies, Officer Skinner, the man replied, reading the name on the three by five laminated identification tag that was clipped to the collar of his long-sleeved denim shirt. I’m only going to be here for a few minutes.

Does that long hair of yours get in the way of you hearing me?

No, I heard you loud and clear.

It’s Deputy, not officer, and you ain’t gonna be there no minutes. Back your truck up and go park it somewhere else. This spot here is reserved for our new high-falutin’, big city Sheriff that’s comin’ in today. Wouldn’t wanna disappoint him on his first day by having a nobody like you taking up his spot.

Should he tell him now and save him the embarrassment later? No, the wait would be worth seeing the surprise on deputy dawg’s face when he realized who he’d ordered out of the designated parking spot.

I understand, Deputy. Where else is there to park?

Anywhere you want to as long as it ain’t here.

Thus began Daniel Chesterfield’s first day in a new town starting a new job and a new life.

It’d taken him close to three months to plan the cross country move. As he sat in his truck staring at the single-story brick building, listening to a smartass deputy ordering him to move his ass to a different location, he wondered if he’d made the right decision.

Dan, my man, was how the phone conversation that’d started it all had begun. How’s it going?

Perry? he exclaimed, immediately recognizing his voice.

Yep, it’s me.

Damn, man, I haven’t heard from you in ages. How the hell are you?

Couldn’t be better.

Perry Taylor was a friend and former colleague, partnering with him on several cases in the drug division in West Palm Beach. Fed up with all the bureaucratic and interdepartmental red tape bullshit that went along with the job, he gave up his position in law enforcement to pursue a career in politics.

You still living out west?

I am, and I love it here, Dan. You would, too.

I’ll take your word for it. Never been out that way. Seems to be working out great for you if what I’ve heard is true.

Depends on what you mean by that.

I hear you’re the Lieutenant Governor.

You heard right.

Big difference from chasing down drug dealers, I’m sure.

Let’s just say that I have no regrets about the choices I made. I don’t miss being a detective and I sure as hell don’t miss Florida or all the crap that went on inside the department.

I hear you, man. Not much has changed in that aspect.

Listen, Dan, I’d love to have more time to shoot the shit with you, but I actually called you for a reason.

That reason would be?

I have a proposition for you. It’s something I think you might be interested in.

Not if it has anything to do with politics.

Perry chuckled. It doesn’t. Not in the way you might be thinking.

Alright, then. Go ahead, tickle my fancy.

There’s a Sheriff’s position available in a small town here in Montana called Cowbell.

Cowbell? Dan repeated. As in what goes around a cow’s neck?

One and the same, Perry said.

What the fuck kind of name is that for a city?

It’s a western thing, Perry said.

If you say so, Dan said, taking a swallow of beer. What does a Sheriff’s job in a pissant town in Montana have to do with me?

Perry paused momentarily. A lot, I hope. You were the first person I thought of when I learned about the vacancy. The position opened unexpectedly due to the death of Charles Dickens, the previous Sheriff.

The sheriff’s name was Charles Dickens? Dan laughed. He didn’t have a deputy named Cratchit, did he? Or a son named Tiny Tim?

Always the smartass, Perry replied. Yes, his real name was Charles Dickens, but everyone called him Charlie. He was a highly respected man in Cowbell. Folks are saddened by his demise.

Holy shit, Dan proclaimed. Armed bandits didn’t kill him in a wild west shootout while escaping with money from a bank robbery, did they?

No. A heart attack did.

Damn. I’m sorry for the town’s loss.

Their loss could be your gain.

Not interested.

I haven’t told you anything yet, Perry said.

I can read between the lines, Dan said, finishing off his beer and twisting the cap off another. Still not interested.

Allow me the opportunity to speak before you make up your mind.

Dan sighed. If it’ll make you happy, Perry, then go on and tell me about your little cow patty town.

The sheriff’s office isn’t a big department, and the deputies there leave a lot to be desired. They’re in dire need of training. They all obtained their positions with no prior experience in law enforcement. To be honest with you, Dan, the department is barely hanging on by a thread. The state is ready to pull the plug and dissolve it altogether.

In other words, the staff don’t know their asses from a hole in the ground? Like some of the detectives we’ve dealt with in the past.

Among other things.

Correct me if I’m wrong, Perry, but it sounds to me like you’re saying they’re either unfit for the job or not bright enough to fulfill their duties. Would I be correct in that assumption?

That’s putting it nicely. Anyway, I’m hoping I can convince you to relocate out here and take the position. You’re one of the best damn cops I’ve ever worked with, and you’re a certified instructor. If anyone can turn the department around and prevent its demise, it’s you. I’ve already put in a good word about you. Recommended you, actually. The department could use someone like you to get it on track, turn its reputation around, and help it earn the respect it deserves.

I appreciate the vote of confidence, Dan stated. Explain to me why the fuck I would consider giving up my job working with trained professionals to move to a cow town in the west and coach a pee wee league of merry misfits. My home is here in Florida, Perry. So is my job. I have no plans to leave either one.

I see there’s still no filter on that mouth of yours, Perry chided. I always said that your colorful language would make a sailor blush.

Nope, no filter, and there never will be. Again, tell me why I would leave my job and my home to move to Bumfuck, Montana?

It’d be an excellent opportunity for you. The pay’s decent and the sheriff’s residence and vehicle are provided by the department. Those two bonuses will save you money on living expenses.

Sounds like an excellent package for someone who’s interested in it. I’m not.

Also because the town needs a strong leader like you, Perry said. I need you, Dan. It’s essential that the deputies receive proper guidance and training to assist them in performing their required duties. You’re more than qualified to teach them how to be responsible officers of the law and help them build up their self-confidence. They’re all capable of learning, Dan. Their only problem is that no one’s ever taken the time to teach them. I can’t think of anyone else competent enough to convert not only the officers, but the department, into a well-respected and reliable branch of law enforcement.

It’s nice to hear you say that, Perry, but it doesn’t change my mind.

Can you at least do me a favor then? As my friend?

Ask and find out.

Don’t give me your final answer until you’ve checked the place out. Come out here for a visit and get a feel for the town and the people before you say no.

Perry, I can’t ask to take time off on a whim while I’ve got open cases. Plus, it costs money to fly. Money, I might add, that I don’t have. I’m still fighting the life insurance company over  the payout for Maggie and Karina. It’s taking every dime I make to keep my head above water.

Damn, Dan. It’s been months. What the hell is taking them so long?

Ever since I filed the claims, it’s been one excuse after another, Dan explained. First, they didn’t receive the investigative report. Then they didn’t receive their death certificates. Then they tried to argue that the premiums weren’t current. Insurance is the biggest fucking legal scam in the world. If you don’t pay your premiums every month, you get cancelled. File a claim, and they’ll find every excuse in the fucking book not to pay out on it.

I agree with everything you said, Perry replied. Unfortunately, insurance is something we all need. I’m sorry to hear that you’re having such a hard time with it.

I won’t stop fighting. I’ll make them pay if I have to take it out of their hides.

Perry laughed. I’m sure you would. Back to the issue at hand. Knowing you the way I do, I’m willing to bet that you have hundreds of hours of vacation and sick time saved up. They’re yours, Dan. Use them.

I don’t know, Perry, Dan sighed. Financially speaking, taking a trip isn’t feasible right now.

If it’s the finances preventing you from saying yes, I can resolve that issue right now. The cost of your flight and hotel stay will be covered by the county since we’re requesting you to make the trip. All you have to do is say the word and all of your arrangements will be made. What have you got to lose by visiting? Besides, getting away from there for a while would do you good. It’ll give you a break from…

Perry didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t need to. Dan knew what he was going to say without him speaking a word.

Flying to Montana wouldn’t change anything. He could travel to the ends of the earth and still never be able to get away from his pain. It would forever be a part of him. Furthermore, he didn’t want his anger to go away. It was his deep seated fury that kept him going, kept him determined to find the bastard responsible for his grief and misery and deliver well deserved justice to the scum sucking son of a bitch.

How are you doing with everything? Perry asked.

Dealing with it the only way I know how, Dan told him honestly. One day at a time.

You still haven’t gotten any answers?

No. The cocksucker seems to have vanished from the face of the earth. He’ll fuck up eventually. When he does, I’ll be there to make sure he never destroys another family the way he did mine.

Hang in there, pal, Perry said. Dan, I’ve got about five minutes before I have to be in a meeting. Can I tell them that you’ve accepted the offer to at least come here and check it out?

Perry was right. A mini vacation would do him good. The added bonus was that he wouldn’t have to pay a dime to finally get to see what the west looked like outside of magazine photos.

You know what, Perry? Dan finally said. I think I will take you up on your offer. What’s the harm in having a look? As long as you understand that a visit doesn’t mean commitment.

I understand perfectly.

I’ll ask the captain to temporarily reassign my cases. He’s been harassing me to take some time off anyway. Go ahead and make the arrangements then let me know when I’ll be coming.

Sounds great, Dan. You won’t regret it, I promise. After you see the splendor of the west, you’re not going to want to go back to Florida.

Chapter 3

Perry picked Dan up at the Helena airport, drove the two hours back to Cowbell, then took him on a brief tour of the modest-sized rural city prior to their scheduled meeting with the town board.

It’s not heavily populated, Perry told him. But it is quiet and peaceful with good, decent, and honest people.

What’s the population here? Dan asked.

According to the most recent census, twenty thousand, Perry answered. Unlike West Palm Beach, many of the residences here are spread several miles apart. You still have your smaller neighborhoods and apartment complexes inside the city limits. One good thing about living in the country is that you never have to worry about your next-door neighbor overhearing your conversations or banging on your wall in the middle of the night telling you to turn your television down.

Perry pulled into a parking spot in front of a bakery. Come on, he said. I want you to meet someone.

They were greeted by the welcoming aroma of vanilla and cinnamon. The glass display cases were filled with various types of donuts, pastries, cookies, and cakes. Patrons sat at tables and on counter stools savoring their breakfast bagels and freshly brewed coffee.

Hi, Ms. Nakamura.

Perry, the petite Asian woman exclaimed, coming from behind the counter and embracing Perry in a tight hug. Me no see you long time.

I know, Ms. Nakamura. I don’t get down this way as much as I’d like to.

Who you? she asked, looking up at Dan.

Ms. Nakamura, this is Daniel Chesterfield, a friend of mine who’s visiting from Florida. Daniel, this is Kai Nakamura, the best pastry chef in the whole western hemisphere.

Oh, you, she said, lightly tapping Perry’s arm. To Dan, she winked and said, You tall and good looking. I like tall, good looking men.

I’m trying to talk him into considering taking on the sheriff’s job, Perry told her.

Such shame about Charlie, she said with a frown. He such nice man.

Yes, he was, Perry agreed. I’m about to take Dan for a ride around town. How about two of your French twists to eat along the way.

Still your favorite, I see, she said, individually wrapping the pastries in wax paper and passing them to Perry.

How much?

For you, no charge.

Perry dropped a five-dollar bill into the tip jar and thanked her.

Hey, you? Tall, good looking man? she called as they reached the door. You take job and move to Cowbell, then you come see me anytime, she said with a wink.

She likes you, Perry said as they stepped onto the sidewalk. She doesn’t flirt with everyone.

Only tall, good-looking men, Dan smiled. No wonder she didn’t flirt with you.

The downtown business area consisted of three streets, each one four blocks long, that were lined with various types of industries, ranging from western wear to jewelry, shoe and eyeglass repairs, and everything else in between.

What’s the crime rate here? Dan asked.

Perry laughed. What crime? In big cities like West Palm or Miami, murders and drug deals rank highest on the crime index. Here, writing a traffic ticket is considered a big deal.

Then why the need for a sheriff’s department? Dan asked.

It’s more of a desire than a need, Perry explained. After the Bear Creek County Sheriff’s Department rezoned their jurisdictional responsibilities, the changes omitted Cowbell and left the town without law enforcement coverage from the sheriff’s office. That’s when the residents voted unanimously to have their own sub-station here. It makes them feel safer knowing that the department exists and that emergencies outside the city limits will be responded to.

Don’t they have a city police department?

Yes, but city officers aren’t authorized to respond to emergencies outside the city limits, and the response times from county personnel to rural areas wasn’t acceptable. As it is anywhere else, city police deal with incidents inside the city limits, and county law enforcement handles everything else. Knowing that there’s a separate entity dedicated to the residents of Cowbell and having a department that can respond to their calls faster and efficiently gave them the sense of comfort that they needed.

Dan nodded. I can understand them feeling that way, he said. If there’s no crime here, why is there such a high need for emergency call responses? What types of emergencies are you referring to?

Remember, Dan, you’re in the country here. Don’t be surprised when your department receives calls asking a deputy to respond to an emergency involving a pregnant horse or a runaway hog.

Next you’re going to tell me that, as the sheriff, it’s my responsibility to ensure that every call is answered, regardless of the circumstances.

You guessed it.

I sure as shit hope I never get a call to come and check on a chicken that has an egg stuck in its ass because I sure as hell won’t dig it out.

Perry laughed. That’s the moment when you’d politely place a call to the veterinarian of their choice and request a house call. There will be no chicken choking for Daniel Chesterfield.

Good, Dan nodded. Tell me what else is here.

One elementary school. Middle and high schools are combined and occupy a single building. There are also churches, a couple of daycare centers, and a grocery store.

A grocery store? Dan asked, turning to look at Perry. As in singular?

Yep, Perry nodded. "A farmer’s market is held every other Saturday for