The myna bird known as Sheriff Daniels constantly squawked up a storm about whatever came to his thoughts. He told Cody more about himself than the boy probably wanted to hear or listen to. The Sheriff held a captive audience of one who possessed no place else to go.

He even told Cody, "I was appreciative my close associate in Gunter County volunteered one of his Senior Deputies, Verne Brewer, to act as the Interim Sheriff of Astatula until a full-time replacement could be brought on board."

Turning his pager into the Sheriff's Office Brock Daniels instructed Deputy Brewer, "Do not contact me about anything even closely resembling official business. I am no longer in the game."

To that Deputy Brewer bid the ex-Sheriff, "Ride safe Brock!"

It was a law enforcement expression he was very familiar with.

Brock Daniels meant precisely what he told Deputy Brewer. Even when he sat down the next morning in the upholstered lounger beside Cody and opened up the daily edition of the Astatula Gazette newspaper. Lo and behold there was his bright sunshiny face and a headline that screamed in big bold letters:

'BROCK DANIELS ABANDONS ASTATULA!"

"News travels fast," he thought to himself.

The article was a slamming editorial written by the Sharon L. Morse Award-Winning Editor Peter Lewis. Previously, Lewis wrote several pieces about Brock Daniels stellar law enforcement efforts in Astatula. None of these features were negative in any light. His hostility with this information was puzzling but Brock Daniels allowed the feelings to pass.

Peter Lewis's story lambasted him for resigning as the Sheriff of Astatula.

"He's entitled to his misguided opinion,' Brock Daniels thought, 'As far off base as the article was.' It's lack of credible reporting was appalling. He brushed the water off his shoulders and allowed the currents to run down his back.

The biggest surprise to Brock Daniels was not Peter Lewis's article. He could care less what the reporter wrote about him as long as he spelled his name correctly.

An attached addendum to the article was a petition circulating around town inquiring, "How many of the good people of Astatula would welcome Brock Daniels back as their Sheriff?"

The article further stated, "872 registered voter names appeared on the petition stating they could not wait for him to resume his proper position as the Sheriff."

That number equaled nearly three-quarters of the town's population.

"Not too shabby," Brock Daniels thought upon reading the statement, "especially considering this petition has only been available one day."

But wait they would. While he was sincerely pleased by the vote of confidence the good people of Astatula conferred on him, Cody was now his highest priority. Everything else was a far distant second nature. That was just the way the cookie crumbled in Kookamonga Country.

Cody's room was beginning to look like a furball menagerie of stuffed toys. Everybody in town knew about his condition and wanted to wish him a speedy recovery. Channel Four News frequently provided periodic updates about him. Apparently leaked by well meaning hospital employees.

Cody's gallantry in helping end Fred Taylor's reign of terror made him somewhat of a Hometown Hero. His room was full of stuffed tigers, cats, dogs, teddy bears, bunnies, and a wide assortment of other four-legged critters. There were so many collecting Brock Daniels took to stashing them in a corner. Cody had his own multi-colored zoo waiting for him.

On those rare occasions when Brock Daniels dashed down to the hospital cafeteria for a quick bite to eat, or ran an errand in town he could not postpone any longer, he was accosted by concerned citizens questioning him about how Cody was faring?

His pat response remained, "There was no change. But thanks for asking. That means a lot to me."

Their genuine concern did. It showed him they cared.

What he wished he could tell them was, "Cody's his old self again and is going home with me. Everything is coming up roses."

But that remained the farthest thing from the truth Brock Daniels could tell them.

"Astatula is a small town Brock and everybody knows everybody else's business," Beth reminded him after hearing him comment about their lack of privacy.

"I realize that Sweetheart," Brock Daniels readily assured her, "and I know they mean well." He was fussing.

"Then let them ask about Cody and let them send their well wishes Brock. What's it going to hurt anybody?" Beth asked him in return.

Once again, she was right.

Beth also told him, "You're way too close to the situation Brock. Why don't you go home and get some real sleep today? You need it! And, you'll feel a lot better. I can make my phone calls here. That way Cody won't be alone."

As badly as he did not want to Brock Daniels needed a change of scenery.

Kissing Beth's lips he said, trying to slip the comment by her, "I'll bring lunch back when I return."

"You'll do no such thing Cowboy!" Beth warned him without missing a beat, then said, "Make it dinner."

Without creating an argument he wanted no part of Brock Daniels left Cody's room wondering, "How much longer the boy could sleep until he woke up?"

With most coma victims that is the $64,000 dollar question. It is almost impossible to predict. There are no easy answers.

Crashing on his bed Brock Daniels stretched out full length. With Beth and Cody both at Astatula General Hospital the silence of his humble adobe was overwhelming. He could hear the walls breathing. For the first time in five long days Brock Daniels zoned out. Nobody ever said being a primary caregiver was an easy task. He was well versed in how difficult a chore that could be.

Still, he would not be deterred from his appointed rounds until Cody was safely tucked away in his upstairs bedroom and this ordeal was far behind them.

Until then Brock Daniels was all in.