Growing up in Harlan County gave her a shared history with Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens. A history that made the two Kentucky natives cynical to the outside world.
However, after meeting former Army Ranger, Tim Gutterson, Jolene 'Jo' Taylor's p...
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"Now, what sorta trouble you been stirring up, Raylan?" Jo asked, leaning in the doorway of the locker room. She might as well apply for the Marshal's Service at this rate, given the frequency with which she'd grown accustomed to visiting this particular office.
The three male Marshals were all there, listening while Tim rattled off an exceptionally long rap sheet in a bored tone. Art and Raylan set about packing numerous rifles and bulletproof vests into a duffel bag. It looked as though they were preparing for some great hillbilly war.
Halting in his motions, Raylan pinned his fellow deputy with an accusatory look. "You told her?" He griped in obvious agitation.
Tim simply scoffed indignantly and shrugged his shoulders, file in hand. He hadn't spoken to Jo at all the past few days, but this seemed to be an emerging trend. He was going to be blamed for all the shit she just happened to know.
"Hey, now," Jo called, coming to the junior deputies defense and drawing attention back to her person. "Constable Bob called me about the break-in, and the warden gave me a ring after Arlo shanked an inmate. Y'all would be horrified to know the number of people who got me on speed dial." She smiled proudly at her own assertion. Only Ellstin Limehouse rivaled her in the innate ability to acquire loyal snitches to the cause. Though, her cause was keeping tabs on her troublesome brother, while Limehouses held the intent of keeping intruders out of Noble's Hollow.
Raylan chose to ignore her untimely intrusion altogether and returned to the matter at hand. "Are you sure you want to go with us, Art?" He asked doubtfully.
"He's got a point, boss. I mean, hell, their dogs in the pound," Tim added in support of his inquiry.
"You know the best barbecue I ever had was in Versailles," Art mused, handing another shotgun to Raylan. "That's where Waldo is. I don't wanna miss out on that brisket."
"Why don't you tell us why you're going?" Raylan hummed in consideration. "Of all the fugitives that have come across our desk of late, why you gotta go on this one?" Clearly, the looming threat of retirement had stirred a sense of adventure in the Chief Deputy, but Jo wasn't supposed to know anything about that.
"Because for 30 years, this office dropped the ball on apprehending a federal fugitive that was collecting a draw check," Art announced, slamming and securing the weapons locker. "And I, personally, wanna be the one to cross that off the books."
Raylan and Jo shared a skeptical look from across the room. No way were his motivations as simple as righting this particular occupational wrong.
"And also that mystery-bag thing's giving me a little bit of a Marshal stiffy," Art added mockingly.
"That's a nice image," Tim drawled sarcastically.
"Lovely, Art," Jo said through a grimace. Imagining Raylan's boss with any kind of stiffy, metaphorical or otherwise, was less than ideal.
