Mercy || Whitey Winn

(9)

I laughed uncontrollably for about a minute straight. It couldn't get any more ironic than a sheriff's deputy locked in a jail cell. I felt kind of bad for laughing, but it was too funny for me to hold in. This situation was, surprisingly, easing my nerves already and I was extremely thankful.

Once I calmed down enough to talk properly, the first thing I said was, "Do you need some help there, Whitey?" I then burst out laughing again at my little joke.

Whitey rolled his eyes at my response then said, "Ha ha very funny, Minnie. Now let me outta here."

"Alright, alright," I said with a slight smirk. "Where are the keys?"

"I don't know—I think they might've taken it with 'em. Are they on the desk?" Whitey pointed toward the only desk in the small station. I walked over and started searching the desk for the keys, but I couldn't find them. I deciding to keep searching and double checking anyways though—maybe I just missed it.

      "Wait, Whitey—you said they. Who did this to you?" My curiosity was at its highest peak as I suddenly felt very protective over my best friend. I needed to know who did this to my Whitey and teach them a lesson. In order to get to Whitey, they had to go through me first.

      "You know the prisoner in here—Mr. Ward?" Whitey asked me.

"Ya mean the one who came riding in with the sheriff earlier this week? Then yeah I know who you're talking 'bout. Did he do this to you?"

"Sorta, but not exactly. He just went along with her plan." Whitey scowled after saying this, obviously still mad about what happened to him. I couldn't blame Whitey though—if someone locked me in a jail cell against my will I'd be downright furious. What really caught my attention though was the single word; her.

"Who's her? Whitey for Christ's sake just tell me!" I was getting angry that Whitey wouldn't just tell me. We're best friends! We should be able to have enough trust in our relationship to tell each other anything. Except for the fact that I'm in love with him—part of the reason why I was even here in the first place.

"Alice Fletcher." Whitey finally answered in an annoyed and angry tone. "She came in here with a gun threatening to shoot me if I didn't do exactly what she said—which ended up being breaking out Mr. Ward and locking me," he paused to shake the cell bars angrily, "in here."

      "I'm sorry, Whitey." I said sincerely. I knew how much it meant to him to be able to fulfill his responsibilities—just like me. We both get upset if we fail to uphold our duties.

      "It's not your fault, Minnie." Whitey looked over at me and his eyes met mine. He gave me a soft smile, causing me to flash a bit of a sad grin back. We stared at each other for a while—searching each other's eyes, admiring each other's presence—then I adverted my eyes quickly, remembering why I was here in the first place. I didn't think I'd be able to keep my feelings secret anymore if he kept looking at me this way. On the bright side though, any tension or uncomfortableness between us has surely faded away, at least a little bit, by now.

      In order to distract myself, I kept looking on the desk for the keys. I could feel Whitey's eyes on me during my search. I even swear I heard him sigh, but I didn't look at him to confirm my suspicions—my worries were too strong.

After a few more minutes of searching in silence, I finally concluded that the keys weren't on the desk. I turned towards Whitey and stated, "I don't see the keys anywhere. Any other ideas?"

Whitey pushed his hands against the bars in frustration and stared down at the floor, seemingly deep in thought, for about a minute.

"They must've taken the keys with 'em." Whitey said suddenly in a firm voice, breaking the silence. "The best idea I got right now is that you try and pick the lock with your hair pins."

"Whitey," I started, already disapproving of his plan. "I don't know how to." I wasn't very comfortable with the amount of pressure and responsibility Whitey was placing on my shoulders. I didn't want to be the person that Whitey had hope in and possibly letting him down. I had no idea what to do, but I did know that I didn't want to fail him. "Maybe we should get some help from someone who'll know what to do—like Mary Agnes. She's smart; she's the best person to help your situation."

"She's watching her niece and nephew and everyone else is probably asleep right now—except for you. You're the best option I have." Whitey explained all of this to me calmly, trying to persuade me.

I wanted to help him, really and truly, but I didn't know if I could. I knew for sure though that I didn't want to deal with the disappointment from him if I couldn't pick the lock.

      Whitey, sensing my hesitation, looked at me with pleading eyes and I felt myself begin to crack. This boy could ask me to move heaven and earth for him and I'd do it in a heartbeat. Why is picking a lock any different? It should be easy. At least I hoped it would be easy.

      "Please, Minnie," Whitey begged. "You're my only shot."

Thinking over the idea in my head, I decided that I would at least give it a shot—for Whitey. If I fail, then oh well, at least I would've tried. If anything, it gives me more time with Whitey—just the two of us—and I couldn't possibly say no to that. So, looking into Whitey's hopeful eyes, I said confidently, "Let's do this."