"Chapter Sixteen"Drink some water," Jordan said as she handed me a bottle. "You mightnot think it, but you're probably dehydrated."I took the bottle, twisted off the cap, and took a swallow. As Ilowered the beverage, I glanced over at the scoreboard.Taylorville Raiders: 49, Campton Warriors: 31. The clock was stoppedwith less than a minute left in the game.When Cori and I had arrived at the stadium, she'd grabbed my arm beforeI could climb out of the car. Her eyes fixated on mine and the cornerof her mouth curled up slightly."After the game, why don't you come to my house for a sleepover? Wehaven't had one of those in almost a year." The smirk turned tosomething dark. Something that promised more than hair-braiding,popcorn, and sappy romance movies."Uh, maybe," I said, trying to not let my mind take a stroll throughimaging what an evening with Cori would be like. The last thing Ineeded was another bout of being horny and needy right before I had tobounce around in my uniform in front. I picked up my purchases and put them in Fireball's saddlebag. I got his gun and knife, and tied his feet together, looped the rope around the saddle horn and dragged him up the street to the jail.I found the marshal there and asked him to put this fellow in jail until he sobered up. I gave the marshal his gun and knife."Does he have any money?" I asked."Why?" The marshal said."I hurt my hand and I am going to let him pay for my doctor visit," I explained.He laughed and got five dollars out of his pouch.I went to the doctor's office and let him look at my hand. He said, "You should never hit people in the head unless you are holding something in your hand. Hands are meant to hold things, not hit with. You have a badly bruised knuckle, but nothing is broken. He gave me some medicine for the pain and swelling, aspirin, I think, and charged me three dollars.I let Mr. Bad Manners buy me a good supper, and then left town.Fireball and I made a fast trip back to Wildcat Branch. And I was met.
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