Doctor Salvador’s office occupied the ground floor of his home, an adobe building with a tiled roof, located near the sheriff’s office, with a large wooden door that was rarely closed. Outside, a small hand-painted sign hung above the entrance with the words “Doctor’s Office” in faded letters, though in the town, everyone simply called it the doctor’s house.

Upon entering, a small space served as a waiting room, with a couple of wooden benches against the wall and a cast-iron stove, where a pot of hot water was always boiling—either for infusions or to sterilize instruments. On cold nights, the stove also helped warm the doctor’s office, making it one of the coziest places in town despite its purpose.

The air smelled of dried herbs, alcohol, and medicinal ointments. The walls were lined with wooden shelves, where glass jars held everything from tonics and poultices to mysterious powders only the doctor knew how to use. On the main desk, there was always a mortar with crushed herbs and an oil lamp that lit up the consultation nights.

To one side of the room, a wooden examination table with a thin mattress was used to treat patients. Next to it, a small shelf held medical tools: sharp scalpels, surgical forceps, and clean cloth bandages. In one corner, a barrel of fresh water and a copper bucket were used to wash the instruments after each procedure.

The doctor’s office also had a long table, where remedies were prepared and notes were taken in an old leather-bound notebook. To the side, a locked cabinet stored the most dangerous medicines—like morphine and laudanum—used only in extreme cases.

Though modest, the doctor’s office was the heart of healthcare in Arcelia, and its owner, Doctor Salvador, was not only the town’s physician, but also a confidant and counselor to more than one tormented soul.

The soft sound of footsteps on the adobe floor was the first thing that reached Nil’s ears as he began to regain consciousness. His body felt heavy, each movement a sharp reminder of the wound he hadn’t cared for properly.

His eyelids opened slowly, revealing a simple adobe ceiling. Sunlight filtered through a window covered by worn curtains. The scent of disinfectant and medicinal herbs hung in the air, mixed with a faint aroma of coffee that seemed to come from somewhere nearby.

Nil tried to move, but the pain in his side stopped him cold, drawing a low groan from his throat.

—So, you're awake —said a deep voice from the corner of the room.

Nil turned his head with effort. His eyes, still blurry, tried to focus on the broad-shouldered man, nearly six-foot-three, with chestnut hair and beard, and sharp brown eyes. He stood near the door, arms crossed in an imposing stance. He wore a red cotton shirt, and pinned to his chest was the unmistakable sheriff’s badge: a metal brooch engraved with an eagle and the name of the territory it represented. His hat rested on a nearby chair, leaving his face fully visible.

—My name is Giovanni Solís, I’m the sheriff of this town, and I’m going to ask you a few questions.

—Where… am I? —asked Nil, ignoring the man’s words, his voice hoarse from lack of water.

—In the town of Arcelia. María and Noé found you lying on the road and brought you here. You were in pretty bad shape —Giovanni replied, his tone neutral, though his eyes studied every reaction from the stranger.

Nil tried to sit up, but the sheriff raised a hand to stop him.

—Hold on, the doc said you should stay still if you don’t want that wound opening up again.

Nil scoffed softly, a wry smile curving his lips.

—How kind of you all… Picking up a stranger and nursing him back to health. Are you always this hospitable?

Giovanni didn’t answer right away, simply tilted his head, as if trying to decipher the man’s sarcastic tone.

—I don’t like letting people die on the outskirts of town, if that’s what you’re asking.

Nil let out a quiet laugh, but quickly stopped when a sharp pain made him gasp.

—Don’t be stubborn. I don’t know what you did to end up like this, but for now, you’re not walking around like nothing happened.

—What a shame… —Nil muttered, lying back down with a grimace.

Silence settled between them, broken only by the distant crow of a rooster. Giovanni didn’t take his eyes off him, but instead of feeling intimidated, Nil seemed perfectly at ease under the scrutiny.

Suddenly, as if remembering something crucial, Nil frowned and turned to Giovanni with urgency.

—And my horse?

Giovanni blinked, surprised by the question.

—He’s a black thoroughbred, answers to the name Sombra. —Nil clenched his teeth, panic creeping into his voice—. Please, tell me he’s alright.

The shift in Nil’s demeanor didn’t go unnoticed. Giovanni straightened slightly.

—They found him near where you were picked up. He’s in the sheriff’s stable, being looked after. Seemed in good condition, just a little restless.

Nil sighed, visibly relieved, and closed his eyes for a moment.

—Thank you… —he said, this time in a more sincere tone.

Giovanni watched him with renewed curiosity. The man’s reaction to his horse had been so genuine, for a moment he seemed… less strange.

—What happened? —Giovanni finally asked.

Nil opened his eyes, the spark of sarcasm returning quickly.

—What do you mean?

—How did you end up hurt and lying in the road?

Nil gave a small shrug, trying not to move too much.

—I suppose I took a wrong turn while traveling. Some bandits tried to rob me and, well, you know how that ends when you're a “poor apothecary.”

Giovanni didn’t buy the casual tone. There was something in the way Nil spoke that made him wary.

—An apothecary? Were you out getting supplies for your home? Did the gunshot happen before or during the assault?

Nil held his gaze for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh.

—If you want details, let’s say it was a farewell gift. Apparently, they didn’t like that I fought back.

Giovanni frowned.

—Does that mean you killed them?

Nil tilted his head with mock innocence.

—I didn’t know self-defense was a crime, Sheriff. —he replied with sarcasm.

Giovanni didn’t answer right away. He had no proof to accuse him, but something about Nil didn’t sit right.

—I’m going to look into that attack. My town isn’t used to this kind of trouble, and I’d like to keep it that way.

—Look into it? —Nil gave him a mocking smile—. Does that include interrogating me like I’m one of the bandits?

Giovanni didn’t flinch.

—That includes finding out everything I can. If those bastards are robbing travelers like you, they might try the same here.

Nil simply smiled, tilting his head slightly.

—So committed… Sheriff.

Giovanni pressed his lips together, feeling the conversation going in circles.

—Get some rest. I’ll be back once you’ve recovered.

He turned to leave the room, but before closing the door, he heard Nil’s voice again.

—Take good care of Sombra. If anything happens to him, I’ll make sure you hear about it.

The mocking tone failed to mask the genuine concern in his words, and Giovanni left without replying.

While Nil rested in the medical office, Giovanni didn’t waste any time. There was something about that man he just didn’t like. Why would a simple apothecary be attacked so brutally? Getting a gun pointed at you was already suspicious enough—whoever attacked Nil had actually pulled the trigger.

Guided by instinct, Giovanni headed to the small stable behind the sheriff’s office, where the horses they used were kept and trained. Nil’s cart had been parked there, right next to his horse, Sombra.

The black animal looked at him with intelligent eyes, snorting impatiently as Giovanni approached. Giovanni slowly extended a hand, trying to calm the horse, but Sombra shifted uneasily, as if he knew this wasn’t his master.

—Easy, girl… I’m just here to take a look.

Nil’s cart was covered with a worn but clean tarp. On the outside, it looked like the typical vehicle of a humble traveler—functional enough to transport goods and sleep under the stars, but nothing luxurious or attention-grabbing.

Giovanni slipped under the tarp carefully, hoping to find something that contradicted the story of a nomadic apothecary. But what he saw was exactly what Nil had described: glass jars filled with liquids and colorful powders, bags of dried herbs labeled with neat handwriting, clean bandages, and basic medical tools.

Every corner of the cart was meticulously organized. There were no hidden weapons or suspicious items—at least none that were immediately obvious. Giovanni frowned, feeling the mystery deepen rather than unravel.

—Looking for something, Sheriff?

María’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see her standing at the entrance to the stable, hands on her hips and one brow raised.

—Just checking. I want to make sure everything’s in order.

María crossed her arms and gave him a look tinged with disapproval.

—Giovanni, I know you’re always on guard, but that man was half-dead when I found him. He doesn’t seem like someone dangerous.

Giovanni jumped down from the cart and sighed.

—Just a precaution, María. Better safe than sorry. Besides, we know nothing about him, other than the fact that he ended up wounded in a place where assaults are rare. I can’t ignore that.

—And what did you find?

Giovanni shook his head.

—Nothing unusual. Everything looks legitimate.

María smiled with a triumphant air.

—Then stop worrying so much and give the poor man a break, will you? Who knows—maybe you two will even get along.

Giovanni didn’t answer, but as María walked out of the stable with him a few steps behind, he couldn’t help but glance back at the cart and the restless horse. There was still something about all of it that didn’t sit right with him, but he had no evidence to justify his doubts… yet.

With one last look at the uneasy animal, Giovanni adjusted his hat and stepped out of the stable, determined to keep his eyes sharp and his instincts sharper.

After getting some rest, Nil insisted on getting out of bed. He didn’t like the idea of staying still for too long—he had always preferred being on the move, even if his body protested.

María scolded him more than once, but eventually gave in when she saw Nil wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. Still, she made it very clear he had to remain inside the doctor’s house.

That’s how Giovanni found him—stumbling around the small living room, trying to adjust the bandage wrapped around his torso.

—And you? What the hell are you doing standing? — Giovanni asked, crossing his arms and looking at him with a mix of irritation and mild concern.

Nil looked up with a lazy smile on his lips.

—I’m not very good at staying still, señor alguacil.

Giovanni scoffed, but before he could reply, Nil swayed unsteadily and, in an attempt to catch himself, grabbed Giovanni by the collar of his shirt. The movement was clumsy, and before either of them could react, Nil stumbled backward, pulling Giovanni down with him.

—Watch out! — María shouted, throwing her arms up as she tried—unsuccessfully—to stop them.

The result: Nil ended up sitting on the floor, still clutching the now-open shirt of the sheriff, while Giovanni half-knelt over him, one hand on Nil’s thigh and the other gripping the edge of the bed for support—making it look very much like he was pinning Nil down.

An awkward silence followed.

Nil raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, while Giovanni froze, blushing furiously.

—Sheriff… if you wanted to pin me down, all you had to do was ask.

Giovanni backed away so fast he nearly tripped over himself, and María turned bright red as she spun around and pretended to clean something.

—That wasn’t my intention! — Giovanni shouted, face burning.

Nil burst out laughing, wincing as he clutched his injured side.

—Relax, Gil… berto? It’s just a joke. Although… —he glanced at him sideways, grinning— you do have a firm hand.

Giovanni gritted his teeth and stood up in a rush, clearly trying to regain his composure.

—Giovanni! It’s Giovanni! — he snapped, fumbling to button up his shirt as María tried hard to suppress a laugh.

—You, be quiet! — he barked at María, who bit her lips, trying not to crack up.

—Me? I didn’t even say anything — she replied, barely holding back laughter.

—You should be in bed — Giovanni said, turning back to Nil. — If you fall again, I’m not catching you.

—Oh, yes, you are — Nil replied with a teasing smirk. — You’re far too good a man to leave me on the floor, Gio-va-nni.

Giovanni muttered something under his breath and stormed out of the room, leaving Nil with a satisfied grin. Despite the pain, he’d found a bit of amusement in getting under the skin of Arcelia’s oh-so-righteous sheriff.