The Wanderer

Chapter 11--Part 3

            The dusky haze of twilight was just beginning to fade to black when the three arrived at the ramshackle building that served as jail in Eunoria.  The boy skidded to a halt and stuck his hand out towards the girls with a smirk of satisfaction at having gotten them there so quickly.  Saskia pulled a coin out of her pocket and flipped it to Daryn who caught it and bit the edge, leaving a faint indent of teeth in the metal, proving its authenticity.

            “There you go, kid,” Saskia stated with a hint of approval in her voice.  “You got us here right on time.  You earned it.”

            Daryn furrowed his brows and stuck his lip out in a pout.  “I thought you said I got two if I got you here by dusk.  Where’s my other one?”

            Saskia smiled.  “I’m not holding out on you.  I told you I’d give you the first one when you got us to Sheriff Riley.  I don’t see him anywhere.  You get the second one when I see him.”

            “Oh,” he breathed in relief.  “He’s inside.  Follow me.”  He led the girls around to the front of the building to a small brown door that hung slightly askew.  Grabbing the handle, he pulled it open, wincing slightly as it made a high-pitched squealing noise.

The three entered into a small room that looked to be about half the size of the building.  A worn wooden desk lay shoved in the corner, covered with papers and various wanted posters.  Further along the far wall, a small potbellied stove sat.  Despite the warm weather, a small fire was going, keeping a pot of coffee that sat on top warm.  It had obviously been there awhile as the stench of burnt coffee grounds possessed the room.

Two doors stood in the middle of the far wall between the stove and the desk.  Scattered along the sides of the room, mismatched chairs stood.  Some were even facing the wall.  Kalysta laughed to herself.  Those must be for the criminals who committed minor crimes.  They get time out.  She started to share the joke with the friend, but stopped, thinking perhaps it wasn’t the best time to share crime related humor based on the circumstances.  She looked around the room seeing that it was empty except for the three that had just entered.

“Hmph.  I thought you said he was in here.  I don’t see any—“

“Can I help you ladies?” Came a masculine voice, cutting off Saskia’s complaint.  “Are you here to report a crime?  Well, pull up a chair and take a seat.  I’ll grab something to take notes.  Would you like some coffee?  Help yourself.”

The jailhouse was comprised of three small rooms.  The first room was accessed through the small front door that hung slightly askew.  It served as a reception area where citizens would come and report crimes, as well as the sheriff’s office.

Saskia stood dumbstruck staring at her old acquaintance and taking in all the changes.  His gangly limbs had been transformed to sleek muscles that looked strong without appearing overdone.  He had grown and stood almost a head taller than her.  His strong jawline was covered in a smattering of fine whiskers and his upper lip was framed with a thin mustache.  Saskia was dumbfounded by how her scrawny friend had turned into this buff specimen of a man in front of her.

Laughing inwardly at seeing her friend being shocked into silence, Kalysta smiled and answered for them.  “Um, no.”

Looking confused, Sheriff Riley looked up at the two women.  “Oh, well, I suppose it would be rather improper for you to pour your own coffee when I’m here.  I do apologize.”  He sat down the pad he had picked up to take notes and rose to go pour them all coffee.

Unable to hold it in, Kalysta laughed out loud.  “No. I don’t mean about the coffee.  What I meant was, no, we aren’t here to report a crime.”

“Oh.  I guess that would make since.  Sorry.  I’m feeling a little thick-headed all of a sudden.”  He blushed and glanced away from Kalysta, turning his back.  After a second, he regained his composure and asked, “Well, if you’re not here to report a crime, then what brings you ladies into my office?”

By this time, Saskia had recovered from her shock of seeing her old friend grown up.  With a wickedly sly smile she answered, “Well, Puny Peatyrson, you can start by explaining why you’ve thrown Ferrer in jail.”  She watched joyously as the emotions shifted across the sheriff’s face.  First, anger at being called by his old nickname.  Then, embarrassment at being called puny in front of other people.  Another blush painted his face as he avoided looking at Kalysta.  And finally, shock as he realized Saskia’s identity.

“Saskia?” he murmured in disbelief.

“You’ve got that right, Runt.  Now, tell me what’s going on.  Now!”

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