THE CONDEMNED
Book 1 – Rowen
*Note: For purposes of this blog, the content here will be kept to PG standards. However, upon publication, the full novel will include more adult content.
Chapter 6
Settling In
The stables were situated on the very edge of town and
directly across the dirt street from the Mayflower Inn. Sheriff Melfry led
Rowen inside the wood structure and over to a small enclosed area that had been
sectioned off. Rowen noticed that the box-like structure had window-like
openings that faced the entrance and inner portion of the building. He surmised
that way Mr. Zwick could see whenever someone entered the place, and continue
to watch them and the horses.
Hampton
Zwick was a tall, gangly man with a long beard. Both beard and Mr. Zwick’s
mustache were streaked with gray, although the man’s head didn’t have a hair on
it. Seeing Rowen and the sheriff walk into his establishment, the guy got up
from his chair and came over to greet them.
“Hamp.”
Melfry touched a hand to the brim of his hat in greeting.
“Sam.” The
owner’s eyes locked on Rowen as he waited for the reason for their visit.
The sheriff
pointed to Rowen. “This here’s Mr. Rowen Taylor. He’s hoping you’ll hire him to
work in your stables.”
Zwick’s
gaze never left him. “This the guy who’s been your guest for the past couple of
weeks?”
“Only until
Miss Postill could clear him of having any dangerous diseases,” Melfry
explained. “I also checked with Marshall Loving, and he says there are no
active warrants or reward offers out for Mr. Taylor.”
“None, eh?
Why are you here in the first place?” Zwick asked Rowen directly.
He met the
man’s eyes. “The Assembly said I was guilty of theft, so I was banished from my
town.”
“What kind
of theft?”
“I stole
food.”
The
admission got a reaction from the man, although Rowen couldn’t tell what kind.
“What’s the
name of that town?”
“Corinth
City.”
“Never
heard of it, and I know most every city within a hundred miles of here.” Zwick
crossed his arms over his chest as if to challenge him.
Rowen
called his bluff. “I walked for days. I have no recollection of how I got here.
All I know is I have nowhere else to go. I have no family. The few friends I
had are probably incarcerated or have been condemned the same way I was, since
we were all working together. I figure this place is as good as any to set down
roots. I’m a hard worker, although I will admit I’m not accustomed to physical
labor. But if you’ll give me a chance, I promise I won’t let you down.”
“Are you
familiar with working around horses?” Zwick inquired.
Rowen shook
his head. “Absolutely nothing, but I’m a quick learner.”
The owner
studied him for another moment or two. Sheriff Melfry spoke up.
“Give him a
chance, Hampton. If you’re not satisfied by the end of the week, pay him what
you think he’s owed and send him on his way. What have you got to lose? You’re
always complaining about needing more help. Well, here he is.”
“You’re
willing to back him?” Zwick asked the sheriff.
Melfry
didn’t hesitate. “Yep.”
The big man
sighed heavily. “Awright. You’re officially on two-weeks' probation. If at any
time I have a beef with you, you’re out of here. Got that?”
“Yes, sir,”
Rowen quickly replied.
“At this
time, I’ll pay you five dollars a week. If at the end of two weeks I decide to
keep you on, I’ll raise it to six.” He stuck out a hand. “Do we got a deal?”
Rowen took
the man’s hand. It was calloused, the grip strong. “We have a deal. Thank you,
Mr. Zwick. When do you want me to start?”
“How about
right now?”
Melfry
stepped in. “How about I first take Mr. Taylor over to the inn and see if Maisie
has a room she can let to him?”
“I promise
to return as soon as possible,” Rowen added.
Zwick
stroked his beard. “Awright. Be back as soon as you can. Doc is needing me to
get her wagon ready. I can show you how to hitch up a horse.”
Nodding,
Rowen threw in a smile and held out his hand again. “Thank you, Mr. Zwick. I’ll
be right back.”
He waited
until they were heading across the street toward the inn before he brought up
the subject. “Mr. Zwick mentioned a doctor. I thought this place didn’t have a
medical doctor.”
“He meant
Miss Postill. People around here call her Doc. She may not have all the right and
proper credentials, but from what we can tell, she’s damn good at what she
does, and she’s earned everyone’s trust. We might as well give her that title.”
He threw a grin at Rowen. “Let’s just keep that little secret between us, if
you don’t mind. No sense letting the whole countryside know.”
Rowen
nodded in agreement.
The
Mayflower Inn was a small two-story, white-washed structure. It had a
simplistic, welcoming appeal. They went up the short steps to the porch, and
Melfry knocked on the door. Rowen eyed the WELCOME sign posted on the side. A
portly, diminutive woman answered. Her face instantly brightened when she saw
the sheriff.
“Why,
hello, Sam! What brings you here?”
“May we
come in?” Melfry replied.
Her smile
dropped at the sheriff’s all-business-like tone. “Yes. Yes, of course. Come
in.”
Rowen
caught her curiously eyeing him. They only took a few steps inside and stopped
as she closed the door behind them. He barely had the chance to take in the
interior when she approached them.
Melfry
gestured to Rowen. “Maisie, this is Mr. Rowen Taylor. Rowen, this is Mrs.
Maisie Mayflower. She runs this inn. Maisie, Rowen’s new in town. Hamp just
hired him to work in the livery, but he’s going to need a place to rest his
head. Would you be able to accommodate him?”
Rowen
noticed the woman wrinkling her nose and knew why. “Pardon my smell, ma’am. I’m
needing a bath in the worst way.”
“You’ll get
no argument from me there,” the innkeeper agreed. She turned back to the
sheriff. “He’ll be working at the livery, you say?”
Rowen
answered. “Yes, ma’am. Eventually, I’d like to make this town my permanent
residence, but until I can afford to do that, I’m going to need a place to
stay.”
The woman
gave him a bemused smile. “Your permanent residence? You sure have a way with
words, Mr. Taylor.”
“Please
call me Rowen.”
“All right.
Rowen. Considering the fact that you’ll be smelling to high heaven every
evening, I can’t have you off-putting any of my other lodgers. I do have one
bedroom on the first floor in the back, near the rear exit. It ain’t fancy, but
the sheets are clean, and there’s a nice breeze coming through the window at
night. I charge two dollars a week.”
“Now,
Maisie,” Melfry interrupted her. “You know I don’t dabble in your business, but
Mr. Taylor here barely got his feet under him. We both know you mostly use that
back bedroom for storage. Why don’t you cut him a break? Hampton’s hired him on
for two weeks, just to try him out. If he’s satisfied with Mr. Taylor’s work,
he’s willing to keep him on and also give him a little raise. The least you can
do is give him a chance to save some of that money so he can buy himself some
new clothes.”
The woman
finally noticed Rowen wasn’t carrying any luggage, and she peered more closely
at him. “Is what you’re wearing all you got to your name?”
Rowen
nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She sighed
and turned to Melfry. “A buck fifty a week, and that’s as low as I can go.”
“And that
includes all his meals, right?” the sheriff noted.
Mrs.
Mayflower threw Rowen a cautious look. “Would you have a problem taking some of
your meals outside so as not to offend my other patrons?”
Rowen bit
his lower lip to keep from smiling. “I’ll do whatever you feel is necessary,
ma’am.”
That
admission pleased her. “All right, Sam. We got a deal.”
“Great.
Now, I have to take Mr. Taylor back to the stables to get started working, but
he’ll be returning for dinner. That should give you plenty of time to clear and
air out his room.”
“Fine with
me. Thanks, Sam. Oh, Mr. Taylor. ‘Scuse me, Rowen. Breakfast is at seven,
dinner’s at one, and supper’s at seven. We change out your bedding every
Saturday, but you empty your own slop jar. Got that?”
Smiling,
Rowen agreed. “I appreciate this, Mrs. Mayflower. Thank you.”
The woman
tried to hide the blush rising into her cheeks. “Just don’t be a pain, and
we’ll get along fine. Good luck with your new job, and welcome to Callistown.”
As they
left the inn to return to the livery, Rowen thanked the sheriff for his help. “I’d
probably be dead right now if you and Mr. Goodall hadn’t come to my rescue.”
“Thank the
Doc, too, while you’re at it. She’s the one who argued for us to show a little
mercy.”
Rowen made
a mental note. “By the way, can I ask you one last question before you have to
return to the jail?”
“Shoot.”
“What’s a
slop jar?”
TO BE CONTINUED
