Evenin' Sheriff

Chp.12: Hanging By A Thread.

THE INSIDE of the sheriff's office wasn't exactly what Tord had expected it to be.
It was small, simple even. An empty desk when they first walked in, just beyond that being a single cell pushed far back into the left corner. Opposite the cell was the stairs leading to the second floor, which Tord only caught a brief glimpse of.

He wasn't given much time to take in the surroundings of the office before he was locked in his cell; he knew, though, he'd get used them soon enough. And he'd have to get comfortable with his new room especially.
Thompson shoved Tord into the ominous cell the mere moment he'd gotten the handcuffs off, sending Tord stumbling. He almost fell too with the force of the shove, but he thankfully managed to find stability on his feet. The price of that however, was a small sting of pain on his back and wrists. "Ow." He grumbled blandly in the darkness of the small room.

Although very little, Tord could see few aspects of the place. One pathetic little mattress laid out on the floor; it didn't look very comfortable. The cracks in the walls were subtle, but still notable in Tord's eyes because of the lack of anything else. The room had nothing to be. it was just where he was now; where fate had always planned he'd end up.

Underwhelmed with his surroundings, Tord turned back around to look at the man on the opposite side of the bars. Thomas didn't look back at him. He was busy tending to few papers on his desk. The only light in the room was from candlelight emitting from the wick beside him.

He was silent while he worked, the pencil scratching against the page being the only sound besides the small movement of his wrist that he made.
Tord hated it. He wanted to say something, to make Thomas say something, anything to be rid of this godawful silence. But the moment was fleeting. Thomas got up shortly after, taking his candlelight and papers with him as he passed by Tord's cell. Tord caught a glimpse of his expression; somber and grim. Lifeless even.

Thomas left him downstairs, retreating to the second floor to do whatever it was people like him had to do. Tord stood there, waiting. But when he got it in his head that Thomas wasn't coming back down, at least not to see him, Tord crumbled onto his mattress with a sigh.

Laying down on it was far too uncomfortable. He reckoned the floor was better suited for his back than the bed. But instead of moving onto the floor, Tord leaned against the cold wall. He looked up at the ceiling, which looked back at him with matching fractures as the walls. He hadn't realized he closed his eyes until his head started to ache a bit. He adjusted his hat to act like a pillow; a poor man's pillow albeit.
He tried his best to be comfortable. And in some time, he able to gaslight himself into believing it. He was just going to have to get used to it.

-

Come the next morning, the soft moonlight was replaced with the harsh sun rays of the desert.
Thomas slumped out of his bed, groggy. He hadn't slept that well at all; how could he really?

He rubbed his eyelid, searching for his tin flask on his bedside dresser. When he did find it, he immediately uncapped it and drank it's contents. He stumbled over to the window, squinting at the light peering in. He let his eyes adjust before he opened the shutter slightly.

The few townspeople were out and about, busy at work as always. Thomas even saw people gathered together, speaking amongst themselves in low voices like the subject of their conversation was strictly taboo. Word was already starting to spread, and he hadn't even officially announced anything yet...

Thomas turned away from the window, closing the shutters behind him. He retrieved a hammer and nail as well as his papers from one of the drawers of his bedside dresser, looking them over one last time before heading downstairs.

It was too quiet in the office, the creaking of the stairs making Thomas cringe. He glanced at the cell in the corner, but did not approach it. He instead walked out the front door of the station, scanning the area outside again before posting one of the papers on a support beam. The sound of the hammer hitting the nail rang out into the streets, indirectly announcing the news for all to hear.
For the first time ever as the sheriff of this town, Thomas had an actual job. Though, he hated that he had to do it.