Chapter 6-
In two days' time, Dr. Love had packed up his belongings and taken off by way of carriage. A small crowd gathered to see him off. Among them was an elderly widow, Ms Haggan, a regular patient of Love's.
"Doctor," she said kindly, outside his carriage. "where do you intend to go once you leave Sigrid?"
"The military always needs doctors on hand, even in this peacetime," he replied. In a charismatic tone, he continued, "Say, you're looking quite spritely today, are you excited to see me off?"
The senior blushed and smiled sweetly
"Me? Oh, well, that must just be that new water our Sheriff gave me; my bones are feeling better already, and it's only been a day!"
The smile sapped from Love's face, before quickly returning.
"That's great. Well, I hope you all have a great time with that man." His voice was cheerful, but a stinging bitterness undercut his words.
Weeks passed, Gallow continued to trial the water's properties by curing the people's ailments. A small building near the usually empty town jail was retrofitted into a sheriff's office, where he quickly set up what little he had. He took up sleeping in the office, with not but a mattress and blanket gifted to him by Gabriel. By the time a month had elapsed, he was soundly comfortable in the safety of the quiet town.
One morning, bright and early, Gallow awoke from his slumber to a knocking on the door.
"Just a minute!" he called, quickly throwing his clothes on.
Swinging open the door, he was greeted by Janna, clothed in a burgundy dress with a white bonnet atop her head.
"G'morning, eh, Janna, was it? Feel free to come in." Gallow's words were somewhat stilted and awkward, he'd rarely talked to children, even when he himself was a child.
"Thank you, Mr Sheriff," she said politely while entering.
"Is there an issue you need help with?" he asked. Since their last interaction in the Garden, they hadn't spoken, much less in a casual setting.
"I wanted to know... sir... can you take me back to the Garden?" she quietly asked.
"The Garden? Well..." Gallow quickly went over the consequences of showing it to her once more. His greatest fear was that the location would be revealed, causing a flock of speculators to invade his new, quiet abode.
"I guess you've already seen it, so I don't see any harm in taking you there again."
Her face lit up, prompting him to continue.
"But you can't tell anybody, a-alright?" he warned, wagging his finger. He found that suddenly her presence had instilled a calmness in him that erased his discomfort.
"Don't worry, sir, I won't!" she assured him.
Stepping over the threshold into the daylight, he led her outside.
"Alright, let's-"
Suddenly, from his right, he heard a calling.
"Sheriff! Sheriff Gallow!"
He turned his attention to Peter Froemig, a middle aged father whom Gallow had healed of a fever a week prior.
"Mr Froemig? Is something up?" he asked, once the man had reached them.
"It's- it's," he panted. "Someone from the military is here! I think we're in trouble! You know what they've been doing to the towns out here, don't ya'?"
"H-hey look, calm down, mister, it'll be alright, I'll take care of it." While Gallow's words were meant to comfort Peter, this news had unsettled him immediately.
"Where is he, Pete?"
"I saw his horse, and a-a guide's, coming from the East end."
Peter pointed down the way he had come, but when Gallow's eyes followed his finger, he saw a horse not but thirty feet away. Atop it was a man in a blue uniform, speckled down the center with silver buttons. The black bill of his blue cap obscured his eyes. Next to him, also on horseback, was a guide who was shrouded in a brown hood; he couldn't make out either of their faces at this distance.
Gallow approached the soldier's horse, walking only a few steps before he dismounted. Upon hitting the ground, he looked up. Both men gazed upon each other in the sunlight. Gallow's heart nearly stopped, then hardened to stone.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
A hand reached for the hip.
Another followed in lock step.
In less than a second, the soldier had easily traveled ten feet, his saber unsheathed, now impaling the air where Gallow had been a moment before. The dark gunman was now three feet to the left of the swordsman; a gun barrel was resting against the side of his head.
The soldier had an olive complexion and dark hair, his jawline sloped to form a face which could not quite be described as handsome, but not hideous either. He was perfectly memorable.
"Good one," he said; his voice had a low tamber, well worn and slightly gravelly.
"The windpipe was always your favorite kill-point, you're predictable."
"So, are you gonna shoot me, or what, dumbass?"
Gallow's eyes tensed, the tendons of his fingers did the same. The very tip of his index pointer quivered as the midsection met the steel of the trigger. Behind them, Janna cupped her face with her hands in fear. She had never seen someone die.
The barrel of the gun flicked upwards, soundly knocking the cap right off of its owner's head. It fell to the ground with a comical "puffing" sound as it kicked up a bit of dust. A wry smile crossed Gallow's face.
"Do you think you're funny?"
"Yeah."
The soldier dropped his saber to the ground, sighing. Gallow followed, holstering his pistol and formally ending the scuffle. A few feet away, Janna and Peter were still frozen in terror.
Gallow, noticing their reactions, began forcing laughter and smiling.
"Oh-ho-ho, you guys, this is just my old, ehm, friend, Gideon! Gideon Jepta!" he called in an unconvincing tone.
Janna slowly dropped her hands, and walked over to the two of them. Peter quickly left the situation with a rattled look on his face.
"Sheriff Gallow? Y-you know this man?" she asked, hands trembling.
"Sheriff?!" Gideon cried incredulously.
Gallow looked at him with a shaky smile.
"Y-yeah, a lot went down."
Gideon regained his composure, his expression soon became one of hardened business.
"Look, I didn't expect to find you, but I don't want to get a military tribunal all the way out here in the wastes, alright?" he said sternly.
"Oh, good, well, I'd love to start over too-"
"So I'll be taking you back by force."
Any hint of playfulness had left Gallow's face. Janna studied his expression carefully; how could this man, who'd faced armed assailants and supernatural opponents, now be quaking in the face of a man he'd beaten squarely?
"You can't do that, Gideon," his voice was frantic. "Look, I've got a good thing going here, I'm really making something out of myself in this town, I mean, I'm the Sheriff, right? Wasn't that the idea behind the Redeemer Law?"
"You have a count of desertion on your record, I don't care what crappy job you got in this dust bin, you're guilty of treachery!" Gideon's voice was grave, as a parent scolding their child.
"No- no, you can't! If you take me back, this time they'll hang me for real!" the sheriff was desperate for the captain to give him some leeway.
Picking up his sword, Gideon sheathed it once more. "You know, I don't want to force you to come back with me. But you should also know, even though this distance is too close to hit your windpipe, I've been practicing hitting a new kill-point on the superior mesenteric, right in your abdomen."
"That's enough." A woman's voice rang from behind both of them. Gideon's guide had leapt from their horse, light moccasins hitting the ground. She began approaching the two, face still shrouded in shadow beneath a hood.
"Captain Jepta, this is the one." She removed her hood, revealing herself to be a young Native woman. Her skin was a browned shade, she had a strong nose and long straight hair of a jet black color.
"What the hell?!" Gallow shouted. "You too?! Dear Lord, it's a reunion party today, ain't it!"