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 4
Questions
Rowan
silently tolerated Miss Postill’s examinations, which she performed with what
he conceded was skill and knowledge. It was evident she’d done such inspections
before.
What he had
difficulty with was her lack of what he considered basic hygiene. In short, she
didn’t wash her hands or in any way use some sort of sterilization process. She
wore no gloves, and he eyed the instruments she used with more than a bit of
trepidation.
It didn’t
go unnoticed.
Shoving his
t-shirt up to his neck, she checked the scrapes and bruises on his skin. When
her fingers lightly brushed across his abs, she left a path of goosebumps in
their wake. He couldn’t help sucking in his breath at her touch, earning him an
amused glance from those soft brown eyes.
At one
point, while she investigated his ear canals, then used the same small tube to
peer up his nose, she paused to give him another curious stare. “Is something
the matter, Mr. Taylor? You have been acting strangely the entire time I’ve
been examining you.”
“I was just
wondering who the last person was that you used that thing on,” he admitted.
“What would
it matter?”
He could
tell she was honestly curious as to his comment. If this was 1884, then she
should be aware of procedures like sterilization, right?
He mentally
cursed his lack of knowledge for not knowing when those measures became
protocol at hospitals and all. On the other hand, he knew he shouldn’t be too
hard on himself. It’s not like it was an issue in my line of work. Sadly,
yet amusingly, he realized he couldn’t research the subject on his phone,
either, as he would have done in the past. Or rather, in the future.
However, he
did have an “out,” so to speak—letting her think it was the norm back where he
was from.
“I thought
all medical equipment had to be sanitized between uses.” His eyes dropped to
her hands. “And doctors had to wash their hands frequently to prevent the
transfer of germs.”
The woman
continued to stare at him for a few seconds, then resumed her check of his
nasal cavities before dropping the tube back inside her box of medical
paraphernalia. Closing the lid, she got to her feet.
“As far as
I can tell, you’re as healthy as a horse, Mr. Taylor. Other than the fact that
you’re dehydrated and malnourished, and you’ve been roughed up a bit, you
should be back on your feet in no time. When was the last time you ate anything
substantial?”
Rowen made
a face. “I have no idea.” It was the honest truth.
“That’s
what I thought. Sheriff Melfry, I’m finished here.” She turned around. The hem
of her skirt swished across his legs, sending a small shockwave through him.
Rowen never
took his eyes off her as the sheriff unlocked the cell door to let her out. She
stopped beside his desk to tie her bonnet back on her head while the man relocked
the door and hung the key on a nail on the wall.
“He needs
to be fed as soon as possible if you don’t want a dead prisoner come morning,”
she brusquely told him.
“I’ll see
to it he gets something to eat when we’re done here,” Melfry promised. “What
about diseases?”
“He’s
clean,” Postill pronounced, adding a small smile. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have
been so casual about leaving him in your care if I felt he might be a danger to
others health-wise.”
“That’s
good to hear.”
“How long do
you plan on keeping him in custody?” the woman inquired.
If Rowen
didn’t know any better, he’d swear the sheriff looked uncomfortable being asked
that question. “I’m not sure.”
“What crime
has he committed that made you lock him up, other than you think he might be
carrying a sickness?”
“He hasn’t,
as far as we know.”
“So,
because he’s a stranger to our town, that automatically calls for his
detainment?”
A flush
came over the lawman’s face. “Actually, it’s for the town’s own good. How long
he’ll stay in my custody depends on whether or not he’s a wanted man elsewhere.”
The woman stared
at him. Rowen recognized that look. He’d been on the other end of it not too
long ago.
“How long
will that take?” she bluntly requested.
“I don’t
know, ma’am. It depends.”
“What if
you don’t receive any information about him? Will you continue to hold him? Or
will you let him go? Or perhaps you would rather drive him out of town and be
done with him for good?”
By now, the
sheriff was getting peeved at the woman. “Frankly, Miss Postill, that’s none of
your business.”
“I’m afraid
you’re wrong about that, Sheriff. You requested me here to look after this man.
Some diseases can take as long as a couple of weeks before they start
manifesting symptoms. For now, I don’t see anything wrong with this man that
some food and rest won’t cure, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely in the
clear.” She gave a nod in Rowen’s direction. “I’m sure you understand now why I
need to know how long you’ll be holding him.”
Melfry
visibly relaxed. “Let’s count on Mr. Taylor remaining a guest here for two
weeks, under quarantine, of course. At the end of that time, hopefully you’ll
have cleared him medically, and we’ll have received some definitive answers as
to whether or not he’s a wanted or escaped criminal.” The man walked over to
the door and opened it. “I’m heading over to the telegraph office right now.
Since your office is along the way, may I escort you there?”
She smiled
at the man, but Rowen could tell it was more for show than an honest reaction.
“Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate the gesture. Mr. Taylor?” She looked over at
where he was still lying. “I’ll be back later to make sure you received
something to eat.” Giving the sheriff one final all-knowing look, she exited
out the door with Melfry right behind her.
Left alone
for the first time, Rowen struggled to roll onto his side. Once he accomplished
that, he managed to sit up, bracing his back against the rough stone wall for
support. Now he was able to get a better look at the place, knowing it was
going to be his temporary home for the next two weeks, at least.
There were
only two windows in this place that allowed light and air inside. One of them
was directly above his head. Barely twelve by nine inches in size, it was much
too small to crawl through. The other one, a much larger one, was next to the
door and across from where the sheriff’s desk was parked. That way Melfry could
see whoever was approaching the place. If Rowen was standing, he’d be able to
peer through, but right now, his current view consisted of the clear blue sky
and an overhanging tree branch.
He surveyed
the small jail again. “These people mustn’t have a lot of crime since there’s
just this one cell. Wonder what would happen if Melfry had two or more people
that needed to be incarcerated?”
Tilting his
head back, Rowen slowly rotated it from side to side to ease the tension. “All
right. I got two weeks, and then Melfry will have to release me because there
won’t be anything he can hold me on, right?” Rowen shook his head. “Let’s hope
he won’t fabricate any charges. And let’s hope I don’t suddenly come down with
something that this day and age can’t handle. But if I’m cleared, what can I do
next? Where can I go? What can I do? I need to find employment, a place to
stay…”
He lifted
his knees and rested his arms on them. “All I know, all I’ve been trained to
do, none of it exists, and won’t exist for another hundred years. What’s left
for me, other than manual labor? And even that isn’t guaranteed. I don’t know
how things were done in this time period. I know nothing about raising crops,
or caring for horses, or any of that.” He took a deep breath. “But I can
learn.” Rowen stared at his hands, flexing his fingers. “I’m strong and
healthy. If I need to put my back into learning a new trade, I’m capable.”
A chuckle
came over him, and he glanced back up at the big window. “I could leave this
town once I’m freed, but what would be the sense of it?”
A dozen
questions continued to plague him. A hundred possibilities jostled for position
in his mind. However, one thing, one person seemed to be calling to him above
all his indecisions and fears.
“Maybe,
just maybe, if I stay here, will I get the chance to see you again in a less
formal situation, Miss Postill?”
She’d promised to be back to check on him. For the first time since his incarceration, he wasn’t dreading what the next two weeks would bring.
TO BE CONTINUED
