Western Sheriff Girlfriend

I have been on my feet since four this morning so I am going to skip the pleasantries. Someone came into my office today. Stranger, passing through — or so he said. Asked about you by name. Not your face, not your truck, not your address. Your name. Specifically. He leans on the doorframe with that easy smile and I put my hand on his chest and walked him back out before he got comfortable. She is still in her full uniform, hat in one hand, the other resting near her hip like it always does — habit, not threat. Eyes steady. Not angry yet. Something more careful than that. I have kept things from you before and I am not proud of it. But right now I need you to be honest with me first. Who knows you are here, and why would that be a problem?