The Betty sat in the Angelica diner considering a salad, considering the man across from her. Behold one Sheriff Ranulf Rupert. Absurdly tall and big; yet graceful in movements. Possessing an ogre's nose, chin, ears, grin. Somehow he arranged these monster parts into expressions of humor and charity. Folk enjoyed saying 'hi' to Sheriff Rupert. They smiled on the street, waved as he drove past. Joking with the big man as he came and went. Pleased they were on good terms with someone so damned big and scary.

Friendly or not, it was damned difficult to picture him as a dad. Particularly of a teen girl without a mom. Double particular of a mouse-girl like Maddy. At times it gnarled upon the Betty's busybody charity. That child needed a female source of guidance concerning basic life issues. What the Hell, Texas did this pleasant ogre tell his daughter about dating boys, fitting bras, walking alone, enduring mirrors, shaving legs, dealing with periods, surviving cliques, choosing majors? Not to mention birth control, daring the gynecologist? Just the thought of his likely opinions gave the Betty shivering horrors.

Of course, whenever the Betty casually asked if maybe he'd like her to talk to Maddy, Rupert just smiled, changed the subject.

"So, your daughter," she began. He shook his head, reached for the ketchup bottle. Squeezed it in a fist that would eke ketchup from stone. The bottle made a blat-fart of a scream, eking ketchup fast as it could.

"Where'd you catch them?" he asked, shaking the victim bottle.

"Biking into town from the east. Three in the morning. Followed 'em a bit. Trying to figure out what they'd been up to, where they'd been."

"Ignoring their sinister activities and dramatic apprehension," he declared, making the ketchup bottle gasp in pain. "What were you up to on my stretch of road?" She looked defiant, kept silent. Of a sudden the answer shone bright as cop car lights on a dark country road. "You were watching the gate to Granger's." He shook his head. "You were... staking out the suspect." Rupert sighed to himself. God damn this was getting deep into TV land. Way past their dramatic casting, not to mention legal jurisdictions and job skills.

"Don't start, dammit. That Granger knows what happened to Smith-Gorgonzola. You said Granger was scared. He's got pockets of bloody money. I figure the man's going to rabbit towards Austin or Mongolia."

"Well, you busted five local criminal masterminds, so the night wasn't wasted. Did you flash the lights? Loudspeaker 'em to pull over?"

"Sure did."

"Bet that made them jump. Didn't try and scatter?"

"Nah. Too smart for that."

"Pot?"

"None I smelled. Didn't really search. That Huff had beer on his breath, but I ignored it."

Rupert shrugged. "Curfew's no big deal in the summer. Plus it's the weekend."

"Now what the Hell, Texas do you think those kids were up to in the middle of the night out in the dark of nowhere?" she demanded.

"Probably the same we all were," replied Rupert. "Making out, smoking weed, coughing up liquor swiped from the parents' cabinets. Painting barns and grain silos with rad inner-city gang tags. Whining with excess use of the 'f' word about life in fucking Hicksville."

The Betty breathed out a long breath of exasperation unto the female heavens. "That's all stuff you don't want your daughter doing with the wild sort at three in the morning."

"Wild sort? Huff, some. Francine some. Jeffrey Meek's a peaceable goof. And that Sue Ellen Candler's got more sense than most horses and every judge in the state."

"You even know where they went?"

"Sure. The cave back of the pecan wood."

She blinked. "She tell you that?"

Rupert finally put down the ketchup bottle. It trembled exhausted, misshapen, wheezing relief in slow gasps.

"You brought her home, I just told her get to bed. We didn't talk."

"Then how do you know?"

Rupert sighed, turned sad ogre eyes upon the Betty.

"Give me some credit, woman. I have her phone on parent tracking. Watched as they went east. Then her signal dropped. They went underground. I remember the cave in the woods same as any kid hereabouts. 'Cept in our day it was filled with water half the year."

"Still a damned dangerous place to be caught in a storm," said the Betty.

"I took the weather into account."

The Betty threw her hands in the air, confounded. "You really just watched that child ride off in the night? I should have arrested the lot of 'em. And hauled you into juvie to explain your absence of basic parenting skills to a Dallas judge."

Rupert considered a French fry. It looked limp and blood soaked. The victim of a terrible accident. He bit down on it thoughtfully, thinking of Gorgonzola-smith and how the man had threatened Maddy. What would his daughter have done if Rupert hadn't walked in? She was gentle, quiet, kind. And those were strengths, not weaknesses. Melody taught him that. But a kid needed... experiences. Real strengths didn't come out of the box. Every big man learned that, soon or late.

"Maddy is fifteen. That's more grownup than kid." Rupert's whisper held a bit of growl now. Back off, woman.

"Oh, shit, Rupe," snorted the Betty. "Half child and half adult sums to complete idiot. Any sheriff knows that. Little kids have instincts. Adults have experience. The teens between don't have any fixed mind to think with."

"My Maddy doesn't get out overmuch," whispered Rupert. "If she has a chance for adventure with friends, I'm going to keep my loving eyes open, and my wisdom-filled mouth shut."

Doting father who doesn't have the guts to protect his child, thought the Betty.

Bossy creature who can't leave other folk to live their lives, thought Rupert.