He's the sheriff.

He came down from Visalia on a special engine this morning." When the team turned into the driveway to the ranch house, Hilma uttered a little cry, clasping her hands joyfully.

The house was one glitter of new white paint, the driveway had been freshly gravelled, the flower-beds replenished.

Mrs.Vacca and her daughter, who had been busy putting on the finishing touches, came to the door to welcome them.
"What's this case here ?" asked Annixter, when, after helping his wife from the carry-all, his eye fell upon a wooden box of some three by five feet that stood on the porch and bore the red Wells-Fargo label.
"It came here last night, addressed to you, sir," exclaimed Mrs.Vacca.
"We were sure it wasn't any of your furniture, so we didn't open it." "Oh, maybe it's a wedding present," exclaimed Hilma, her eyes sparkling.
"Well, maybe it is," returned her husband.

"Here, m' son, help me in with this." Annixter and young Vacca bore the case into the sitting-room of the house, and Annixter, hammer in hand, attacked it vigorously.