My Schmuddy Valentine, Chapter Two

*** The Undersheriff ***

The Undersheriff struggled for a moment internally, his eyebrows drawing together slightly as the desire to touch this lovely woman’s hand warred with the instinct not to tarnish her hand with schmud.

Apparently she wasn’t one to take no for an answer, though, as her hand clasped his with a surprisingly firm grip before leveraging him up from the mud. The squelching sound that came as he finally rose to his feet was unsavory, but to the surprise of anyone who may have been watching, neither the Undersheriff nor the Outlaw noticed, captivated as they were by each other’s presence.

“Well, thank you ma’am,” The Undersheriff said, finally finding his voice. It never did go missing for long. “I’m the Undersheriff around these parts, for my sins. Though, I must be doing something right to meet a lady such as you. Please call me William.”

He’d never been the sort of man who charmed women easily, being just a bit too loud and rough around the edges for most of the so-called ladies around these parts. But, he could see from the glint in her eye that he’d struck the right chord for this particular lady.

“I’m no lady,” the Outlaw replied with a laugh like tinkling bells. “But you can call me Sunny. It’s a pleasure to be makin’ your acquaintance, William. It’s good to know the law around these parts take such an…active role.”

She eyed him up and down all slow like as her hand slipped away from his, one of her eyebrows lifting as their eyes met once more. Her lips quirked up on one side, a reflection of his own slight smirk. They were of a height with each other, and in that moment the Undersheriff felt that he’d finally met his match; a woman who didn’t just stand eye to eye with him, but who could go toe to toe as well.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss.” The Undersheriff replied, with a slight nod as was the way around these parts. “Can I hope to be seeing you around these parts more often, then?”

His tone came out slightly more hopeful than intended, but the fiery haired vixen’s smile only spread to her eyes as he spoke.

“Why surely yes. I heard y’all were having some kind of…mud festival?” Sunny replied.

The Undersheriff’s smirk slipped for a beat before propping itself back up. There’d been talk for the last week about the Valentine Schmud Festival, but thus far he’d only seen it as another burden on the already overtaxed Sheriff’s office. Could it really be that the damned Old Folks Society had finally done something useful for once?

“Why….yes, actually. We’re having the Valentine Schmud Festival next week on Saturday.” the Undersheriff replied in a neutral tone, hedging.

“Schmud…you say? Huh.” the young lady tilted her head curiously, but there was no way the Undersheriff was going to touch that one with a ten foot barge pole.

“Why don’t we find Ms. Bathory and she can tell you all about it,” the Undersheriff said as he turned to saunter toward the stable. “She’s our stablemaster, but also the chairperson of our Old Folks Society.”

Bringing the newcomer over to the stable served the Undersheriff a dual purpose; first, he could get the old witch that he bullied into running the place to explain exactly what schmud is - which she did amazingly well at all things considered - and second, he could use the water pump on the side of the barn to wipe himself down.

“Hello there, young people!” the old witch enthused, pitchfork in hand as they approached her. Manure was dripping from the end of the fork’s tines, but she seemed impervious to the smell; further evidence of her witchery, the Undersheriff considered.

“Ms. Bathory, may I introduce you to Miss Sunny. She’s new in town and is very interested in our upcoming Schmud Festival.” the Undersheriff said.

“Yes, yes I am.” Sunny beamed. “Now, Ms. Bathory…what exactly is schmud?”

*** The Outlaw ***

Sunshine beamed down at the little old lady like her namesake above. What she wanted to say was, “Bess Bathory - as I live and breathe!” before engulfing the crass old brass in a suffocating hug. She wanted to run over to the Undersheriff and give him a hug too, feeling like he deserved that and more for bringing Bess and herself together again.

Instead, what came out was, “Yes, yes, I am. Now…what exactly is schmud?”

After all, Desdemona Elizabeth Bathory was supposed to be dead like her three husbands before her. Whatever reasons the old coroner had for moving out to this god forsaken place, Sunny wasn’t about to blow her cover. Of course, she would have to report back to the crew that she’d finally found the old coot - as none of them really believed she’d bit the bullet - but that could wait.

“Schmud is what the streets of our fine town are made of - horse shit and mud. Good for the skin, it is. That’s why we’re going to celebrate the schmud that makes our town famous by having all the young men compete in a shirtless schmud wrasslin’ tournament!” Bess replied, her voice unnaturally loud, as if she was a touch deaf.

“Ooooh, now that sounds like a hootin’ good time.” Sunny said, excitement coloring her response. “I’ll definitely have to check it out.”

The Outlaw was intrigued; she really did fancy seeing some shirtless young men wrassle - especially men with accents. Hopefully the Undersheriff would be participating in the tournament. She would need to find herself a pair of binoculars; maybe a fan of some sort, just in case. Sunny might not be a lady, per say, but that didn’t mean she was impervious to the sight of a half-clothed man smeared with schmud.

And, of course, a festival would make the perfect distraction for her gang’s heist.