The Bootlegger’s Legacy Read Online Free PDF

he was most comfortable in jeans, an old work shirt, and a cowboy hat.
    Nothing felt the same to Ray after his wife died. She had kept him connected to the world outside of the Sheriff’s department. Her death and his son’s move across the country to Boston caused him to withdraw from most civilian activities. The department became his family and law enforcement his life. The county was his sole focus. He made it his goal to know everyone by name, and to make sure they knew him.
    Still, the last few years had presented some problems. The new deputies he was hiring seemed different. Where Ray saw neighbors and friends, most of the new people saw threats and danger. The world was changing, and Ray wasn’t sure he liked what he saw.
    Dona Ana County covered an area about the size of some states back east, with a population of a little over 150,000 that was concentrated in Las Cruces. With a major college located in town—New Mexico State—there were another 25,000 or so visiting students. Like most of New Mexico, the majority of the population was Hispanic and proud of it. Green chilies and Mexican food were the cuisine of choice—the hotter the better. Most people described this part of the country as unique, picturesque, and extremely friendly. To Ray it was home and very comfortable.
    Ray had been reelected Sheriff about two years before to a three-year term. At sixty-four, he’d decided this would be his last term. He still hadn’t given much thought to what he might do when he retired—he’d made up his mind to retire the previous year during a very difficult time dealing with the county commissioners over changes they wanted made to the department. Every commissioner except one, in Ray’s opinion, was a complete asshole. A couple of the new commissioners were in their thirties and acted like they knew everything there was about running a Sheriff’s department. It was during this period of confrontation, while dealing with complete morons, that Ray decided it was time to step down. He loved his job. The politics were something he couldn’t handle any more.
    The biggest jerk on the county commission was Bill Emerson, the son of the richest man in town, Jim Emerson, bank president and owner of about one third of all Las Cruces real estate. Not only was Bill a complete know-it-all, his dad was the biggest piece of shit Ray had ever had to deal with. He would not miss any of the dealings he’d had to endure with the Emerson family.
    Today Ray was headed toward downtown Las Cruces for a Kiwanis club executive committee meeting being held in the board of directors’ conference room at Citizen’s Bank. The Bank owned by Jim Emerson. Civic activities like this, which came with the job, were the least enjoyable part of Ray’s duties.
    The Citizen’s Bank was located in one of the oldest buildings in Las Cruces, dating from the late 1800s. The stories about the building included years as a brothel, several murders, and almost eighty years as a bank. The beginnings of the bank were rumored to be rooted in substantial deposits from some rather unsavory citizens of Mexico. Ray was of the opinion that the building itself had much more character than its owner.
    The ornate conference room had the distinct atmosphere of a different time. Ray could imagine sitting in this room seventy years before discussing the major events of 1915. The room still had a certain flair about it that gave any gathering a grand feel. The attention to detail that showed through in every aspect of the bank building, and in particular in the conference room, was something from a different time. The level of craftsmanship in the construction was breathtaking.
    Ray sat back and tuned out a discussion about the Kiwanis club’s plans for the annual Spring Arts Festival. From his perspective this meant overtime for his deputies, dealing with crowds, and a very popular beer tent that had grown over the years to cover almost a whole city