Time Is the Simplest Thing by Clifford D. Simak Page B

asked.
    â€œWhy, I don’t know,” the sheriff said. “The lady ain’t no parry. I just kind of figured we’d run her out of town and that would be enough.”
    He said to Harriet: “Are you with this man?”
    â€œAnd I’m staying with him!”
    No! said Blaine. ( A sign for silence, finger to the lips .)
    Fast, hoping that no one would catch it, for in a town like this even a telepath might be in for trouble.
    But the warning must be sounded.
    â€œThat your car across the street?” the sheriff asked.
    Harriet shot a questioning glance at Blaine.
    â€œYes, it is,” she said.
    â€œWell, I tell you, miss. You just trot over to it and get out of here. The folks will let you through.”
    â€œBut I don’t intend—”
    Blaine said: “You better do it, Harriet.”
    She hesitated.
    â€œGo ahead,” he said.
    She stepped slowly off the sidewalk, then turned back.
    â€œI’ll be seeing you,” she said to Blaine.
    She glanced with contempt at the sheriff. “Cossack,” she declared.
    The sheriff didn’t mind. He’d never heard the term.
    â€œBeat it, lady,” he said, and his voice was almost kindly.
    The crowd parted to let her through, but buzzed angrily. She reached the car and turned to wave at Blaine. Then she got into the seat and started the motor, gunned the jets and swung the car sharply out into the street. The crowd fled, shrieking, tumbling over one another to get out of the way, blinded by the screaming dust that was spun up by the jets.
    The sheriff watched with monumental calm as the car roared down the street.
    â€œYou see that, sheriff!” roared an outraged victim. “Why don’t you run her in?”
    â€œServed you right,” the sheriff said. “You started all of this. Here I was getting ready for a restful day and you got me all stirred up.”
    He didn’t look stirred up.
    The protesting crowd pushed toward the sidewalk, arguing violently.
    The sheriff waved his hands, as if he were shooing chickens.
    â€œGet along with you,” he told them. “You have had your fun. Now I got to get to work. I got this guy to jail.”
    He turned to Blaine. “Come along with me,” he said.
    They walked down the street together toward the courthouse.
    â€œYou ought to have known better,” said the sheriff. “This town is hell on parries.”
    â€œNo way to tell,” said Blaine. “There wasn’t any sign.”
    â€œBlew down a year or two ago,” the sheriff told him. “No one had the gumption to set it up again. Really should have a new sign. Old one got pretty rickety. You could hardly read the lettering on it. Sand storms scoured off the paint.”
    â€œWhat do you intend to do with me?”
    The sheriff said: “Not too much, I reckon. Hold you for a while until the folks cool down. For your own protection. As soon as it is safe, I’ll get you out of here.”
    He was silent for a moment, considering the situation.
    â€œCan’t do it right away,” he said. “The boys will be watching mighty close.”
    They reached the courthouse and climbed the steps. The sheriff opened the door. “Straight ahead,” he said.
    They walked into the sheriff’s office, and the sheriff closed the door.
    â€œYou know,” said Blaine, “I don’t believe you’ve got the grounds to hold me. What would happen if I just walked out of here?”
    â€œNothing much, I guess. Not right away, at least. I certainly wouldn’t stop you, although I’d argue some. But you wouldn’t get out of town. They’d have you in five minutes.”
    â€œI could have left in the car.”
    The sheriff shook his head. “Son, I know these people. I was raised with them. I am one of them. I know how far I can go with them and when I’ve got to stop. I could get the lady off, but not the both of you. You ever