Known as the most effective lawman in Texas, Sheriff Daniels reputation was widespread throughout the Lone Star State. His casual style was homey and sprinkled with plenty of small town wisdom. His pursuit of justice was honest, true and fair.

Extensively rummaging through his storage room he found orange-striped jumpers small enough to fit his two special charges. Seldom had he ever had prisoners as young as the boys. However, before he was done providing them the royal treatment, he would have their mug shots snapped as well. He might even post their portraits on the wall so everyone could see their smiling faces.

Cody and Matt removed their pullovers and jeans. Standing in their socks and undies, they replaced their clothes with the jailhouse jumpers Sheriff Daniels provided them. The boys neatly folded their clothes as the Sheriff instructed them to do. They handed them to the Sheriff. Their clothing would be returned later.

Sheriff Daniels stacked the boys clothes on the corner of his desk. He sat down and pulled a file out of the mountain of papers he needed to leaf through. An emotionally distraught Beth arrived at the station.

Casting a quick glance at Cody, Beth did not dare express her sentiment in front of him. She noticed Matt quietly stretched out on his bunk. She quickly hurried past them. Neither boy spoke as she walked by their cells. If they did, it was in a low whisper she could not hear.

Upon her arrival Sheriff Daniels laid his Polaroid Instamatic camera on his desk. It contained a fresh roll of film.

"What's with you, Sweetie?" he asked as soon as Beth walked into his office.

"Oh, Brock, it's horrible!" Beth tried to tell him.

"What's horrible, Beth?" he wanted to know, "Criminals are arrested every day." He was attempting humor with his statement.

Beth missed the context of what he said. She was much too worried about the legal document she held in her hand.

"There's no laughing matter here, Brock," Beth finally spilled the words out of her mouth. Although they did not want to escape easily.

Then she continued by saying, "We're going to lose Cody."

Overhearing his name spoken, Cody was all ears. He definitely wanted to know what Beth was talking about. So did Sheriff Daniels. Beth had their undivided attention.

Sheriff Daniels replied, "Whoa now, Sweetheart. That's not happening, Beth!"

"Here, Brock, read this," she told him handing the papers the Process Server had given her to the Sheriff.

Sheriff Daniels took the papers from Beth and began looking them over.

"It's a court order mandating that you immediately turn Cody over to some distant relative of his in Palo Pinto," Beth said as the Sheriff continued to read the papers.

Cody wanted out of his cell in a big way! What relative of his? As far as he knew he had no relatives. He never met any of them any way.

Sheriff Daniels kept reading the court order. He stopped when he reached the alleged relative's name.

"My word," he exclaimed in mock surprise.

Lost in deep thought he remarked, "The two time loser just got himself excreted out of the steel garden in Clayton."

Noticing Beth was not following his statement the Sheriff continued speaking, telling her, "Rickie Wolford is a convicted Chomo."

"What are you talking about, Brock?" Beth inquired knowing, "A Chomo?" she asked confused by what the Sheriff said, "What's that?"

Cody also heard Sheriff Daniels comment. He had no idea who Rickie Wolford was. But he wanted nothing to do with this so-called relative of his who had been in prison.

"Beth, let me assure you this is still Astatula, and I am still the duly elected Sheriff here," Brock Daniels reiterated.

He opened up a .com website and added, "Stay with me on this one, Love. Cody isn't going anywhere near this child molester. That you can bet the farm on!"

Cody leaned back against the cold, grey cement wall of his cell. The Sheriff's comment about this relative being a child molester brought back a flood of painful memories of his father. No way did he want to relive those agonizing nightmares again!

Beth's emotional pendulum rapidly swung from distress to anger upon hearing Rickie Wolford's rap sheet.

"He's served thirteen years for his taste in little boys," the Sheriff informed her.

"I agree. Cody's not going anywhere near that pervert!" Beth strongly stated, then heatedly uttered a threat, "It'll be over my dead body! This mama bear's packing heat!"

"Don't go getting melodramatic on me, Beth," Sheriff Daniels calmly replied.

She looked at him in silence.

"I'll talk to Judge Stancil in his chambers on Monday and let him sort out all the riff-raff," the Sheriff assured her.

Cody grew quieter than he had been. Dejectedly, he considered running away. Living off the fat of the land. That way he would not be a burden to anybody. He knew how hard Sheriff Daniels would paddle his canoe for even thinking something like that. He belonged in Astatula.

The Sheriff had once told him, "You don't run away from your problems, Little Man. You face them head-on. And, you overcome them."

Shoeless, and with holes in the heels of both of his white socks, Matt was curled up on his bunk sawing logs.

Cody had no concept how this situation would play out.