The clinic was busier than usual. A couple of elderly women waited for their turn, a few farmers needed their hands and backs examined, and several mothers stood with babies in their arms. Other patients, finding no place to sit, stood nearby, casting wary glances at the apothecary.

And still, even after the uproar with Giovanni and Don Benito, Nil continued to stir doubts. Yes, more people were giving him a chance to treat them, but not as many as he had hoped.

Nil sat behind a desk, lazily resting his chin on his hand, watching María arrange bottles of remedies behind the counter.

Everything was running smoothly… until the sheriff walked in, his face clearly spelling trouble.

—Boticario, are you busy?

Nil looked at him like the answer was painfully obvious.

—Do I look busy to you? —he replied with a sly smile, letting out a low chuckle.

Giovanni grabbed his belt with both hands and shot him a firm look.

—Good. You’re coming with me.

María and the patients flinched, and within seconds, murmurs filled the room. But Nil didn’t budge. He didn’t even try to move.

—May I ask why, Alguacil?

Giovanni wasn’t in the mood to deal with evasions, so without further warning, he grabbed Nil by the wrist and yanked him up from his seat.

—You’re going to answer some questions.

Nil let out a grunt, bringing a hand to his side—right where his wound was still bandaged.

—Careful! You’ll reopen it!

María was about to step in, but an unfamiliar voice echoed through the clinic.

—¡Dios mío, IT’S YOU!

Silence fell over the room like a bucket of cold water. The patients, María… even Giovanni. All turned in unison toward the entrance.

An old man with silver hair and modest clothes stepped forward with an eager stride, his face lit up with joy.

Nil tensed.

His lips parted in disbelief.

—Mr... Mr Jacinto?

Giovanni narrowed his eyes.

—You know him?

Nil froze for a moment, as if unsure whether this was a misunderstanding or life itself getting ready to play another cruel joke.

Before he could answer, Don Jacinto turned to the sheriff and exclaimed with excitement. —¡Of course I know him! We’ve been waiting for weeks in San Bartolo for him to come back!

A murmur rippled through the room.

—Visit us? —repeated a woman, incredulous.

—Yes, yes! —the old man went on—. Back in the village we were waiting for him! We’d been saving up, gathering enough money to buy more medicine, and some folks wanted another check-up, just to see how they were doing.

Silence followed.

Giovanni frowned.

—San Bartolo?

—Yes, a little village up north, a few hours from here. —Jacinto explained proudly—. This young man’s been helping us for years.

Nil felt a shiver run down his spine.

Not because it was a lie. But because he never stayed long enough in one place to get that kind of welcome.

—Is he really a doctor? —asked one of the seated women.

—Of course he is! —Don Jacinto clutched his chest, nearly offended—. If it weren’t for him, my wife would still be suffering from her rheumatism!

Another woman murmured doubtfully:

—But… if he really knows medicine, why is he always traveling?

Before Nil could open his mouth, another voice came from the entrance.

—Because he doesn’t see himself as a doctor.

Everyone turned their heads.

A young woman had just walked in, still catching her breath.

—Sorry —she said, trying to compose herself.

—¡Guadalupe! —María recognized her at once. —I thought you wouldn’t be back for two more weeks.

—Guadalupe? —Nil frowned.

—My daughter —Don Jacinto explained with a smile.

Guadalupe nodded and looked at those around her.

—You see… before I got married, when I still lived in San Bartolo, this man used to visit us every four or five months. He brought medicines you could only get in the capital, and he made remedies for whatever we needed.

Giovanni stepped in, serious.

—So you know him well?

Guadalupe crossed her arms.

—Of course I do. A month ago, I went back to San Bartolo, not just to visit my dad—I also wanted to restock on medicine. But when I got there, we realized Doctor Nil hadn’t shown up.

—We thought maybe he’d gotten delayed in some nearby village, so we waited for him... but he never came. —her father added.

—Until yesterday, when I got this letter from my husband! —she explained, pulling out a folded piece of paper—. He told me that here in Arcelia, there was an apothecary who’d been attacked and was recovering in the clinic.

Don Jacinto nodded eagerly. —And I told my girl: “Could it be Doctor Nil?”

Guadalupe pointed at the apothecary with conviction. —That’s why we came this morning—to see if it was really you. A lot of people in San Bartolo are looking for you. Especially the elders… they’ve run out of medicine and need more.

Nil swallowed hard.

On one hand, this was good.

It meant his reputation as an apothecary was so solid, no one suspected he was actually a mercenary.

But on the other hand…

He’d just stolen Giovanni’s chance to interrogate him.

Nil glanced up cautiously and, sure enough, met the sheriff’s dark eyes fixed on him.

Not with suspicion.

But with something worse.

With doubt.

As if, for the first time, Giovanni wasn’t sure what to think of him anymore. And that was more dangerous than any interrogation.

Finally, Giovanni let go of the apothecary. —Looks like you just got busy. —he said, referring to Nil. —I’ll come back later.

—Excuse me. —said the sheriff, adjusting his hat as he headed toward the door.

Had his instincts failed him this time? Had he been exaggerating all along? Truth was, Giovanni didn’t have any solid proof against Nil—just the strange circumstances under which he’d been found.

But now, there were people from an entire town—maybe more—desperately looking for him.

Giovanni was on his way back to the station when a voice called out:

—¡Sir! Señor Solís!

Giovanni turned on his heels. It was Guadalupe, the woman from earlier at the clinic.

—What is it?

—Excuse me, may I speak with you?

—Go ahead.

Guadalupe looked at him, worried.

—It’s just that… on the way here, some travelers were robbed.

Giovanni’s expression turned serious. He immediately asked her to follow him to the station.

Once inside, the officer listened carefully.

—Thank God it wasn’t us, but on the way here, we were stopped by some folks who said a gang had ambushed them—at least seven men, they said.

Giovanni paid close attention. —Anything unusual?

She shook her head. But then something seemed to click—she looked at the sheriff with uncertainty and continued.

—Well, yes. I’m not sure what they meant, but they said it was the Black Specter.

The moment they heard that name, all three officers tensed up.

—Are you sure? —Noé asked, visibly nervous.

Guadalupe nodded, confused.

—Yes, yes, that’s what they told me. Why? Who is that?

Rafael and Noé exchanged worried glances, unsure whether to respond, but the sheriff redirected the conversation.

—Don’t worry about that. Did they describe the man?

Guadalupe nodded.

—They said he was dressed in black—clothes, scarf, shawl, hat—all black. The scarf covered his mouth, but you could see his eyes.

—Did they say what color his eyes were? —Giovanni asked again.

She paused, trying to remember, then—

—Oh, yes! They were light-colored.

The sheriff stiffened again. There were too many similarities with that morning’s report.

—What color?

—Light gray. —she repeated. —They also said he had a scar on one eye, but I don’t remember which one.

Giovanni clenched his jaw. This was a problem.

If Nil wasn’t the Black Specter, then there was a lunatic and his gang out there, and no one seemed to be doing anything about it.

Or… maybe Nil really was part of the gang and was just hiding out in the village. Maybe they had a falling out over the loot. Maybe things got out of hand. There were too many possibilities.

But now, with the testimony from Guadalupe and her father, Giovanni wasn’t so sure Nil was a suspect anymore.

The sheriff exhaled slowly and nodded.

—Thank you, señora Guadalupe. Your statement has been very helpful. You may go now.

The woman stood up but didn’t head for the exit. She kept her head down, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

Of course, Giovanni noticed.

—Is there something else?

Guadalupe bit her lip, clearly debating with herself, until she finally spoke.

—Forgive me for being nosy, but... my… my husband told me there were rumors about Doctor Nil… that he might be a...

She clutched the edge of her dress, anxious.

—I’ll be honest with you! I wouldn’t say I know him like the back of my hand, you know?

She straightened, determined, though her eyes were misty.

—But he was the only one who agreed to treat my mother without charging us an arm and a leg. He examined her, made medicine just for her, and only charged us for the ingredients.

Her voice cracked, remembering how hard that time had been.

—He’s not very talkative, and yeah, I admit he’s strange... but thanks to him, my mamá is still alive.

She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Noé and Rafael said nothing, clearly moved by her words.

Giovanni stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder in comfort.

—Don’t worry… I’ll remember that. Go on now—your father and husband are probably waiting.

Guadalupe nodded and, this time, finally left the station.

Giovanni remained still.

Rafael waited until he saw the woman cross the street through the window before asking:

—And now?

The sheriff sighed.

—The apothecary’s probably busy. I’ll go on my rounds and stop by the clinic later to see if he’s free for questioning.

With that, he headed for the door, instructing Rafael and Noé to get back to their duties.

Outside, Giovanni walked toward his horse—a dark bay with a white mark on its forehead.

He untied it from the post, mounted it in one swift motion, and began his patrol. The sun hadn’t yet reached its peak when he rode through Arcelia’s plaza. He moved with steady purpose, nodding slightly at those he passed. He wasn’t much of a talker, unless the situation called for it.

He had stopped by the church to speak with Father Esteban about recent rumors in town, but they’d barely exchanged a few words when shouts broke out in the plaza.

—I'm telling you, those animals are mine, dammit! —roared a tall man with a wide-brimmed hat and a thick mustache.

—You’re out of your mind! My buddy sold them to me three days ago! —yelled another man, a merchant with a high-pitched voice and calloused hands.

The argument was happening in front of Doña Remedios’s grocery store, where a small crowd had already gathered to watch the drama. Two cows tied to a post stood at the center of the dispute.

Giovanni pushed through the onlookers and positioned himself between the two men.

—Alright, what’s going on here? —he asked firmly.

Both men turned to him, sweaty and agitated.

—Sheriff! —the rancher barked—. This man is trying to steal my cows. I raised those animals—I’ve watched them grow since they were calves!

—They’re mine! —the merchant insisted—. I bought them from Julián Méndez three days ago!

Giovanni frowned. Julián Méndez. A well-known drunk who pawned anything he could just to pay for more drinks at the cantina.

—Do you have any proof? —the sheriff asked the merchant.

The man fumbled through his vest and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Giovanni took it and examined it. It was a sales contract—but there was a problem.

—It says here he sold you three cows. I only see two.

The merchant swallowed nervously.

—T-the other one ran off early yesterday morning, but these two are part of the deal.

Giovanni rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation.

—And you? —he asked the rancher. —What’s your side?

The man snorted.

—Julián had no right to sell them. Those cows were mine—I left them with him to take care of while I traveled to San Luis. That bastard sold them the moment I left!

The crowd buzzed with whispers. Among them were Doña Claudia and Eufemia, exchanging amused looks and trying (unsuccessfully) to suppress their laughter.

Giovanni sighed. Julián Méndez had a reputation, sure, but if the merchant had purchased the cattle in good faith, it wasn’t a simple matter.

—Where’s Julián?

—In the cantina, like always.

The sheriff nodded.

—Go get him.

One of the men nodded and ran off straight to the cantina. Meanwhile, Giovanni turned to both men.

—No one’s taking anything until we clear this up. —He tied the cows more securely to the post—. And if either of you tries to move them, I swear you’ll be spending the night in a cell.

Neither man protested. No one wanted to sleep behind the sheriff’s bars.

When the man returned with the infamous Julián, the drunk could barely stand. Giovanni looked at him with a hard expression.

—Julián, I need you to explain something to me —he said, showing him the contract—. Did you sell these cows?

The drunk blinked several times and looked around, as if barely grasping the situation.

—W-well, yeah… but… I thought…

Giovanni leaned in.

—You thought what?

Julián swallowed hard.

—That Eugenio wouldn’t be back so soon…

The murmuring grew louder. Giovanni clenched his teeth.

—So you admit they weren’t yours to sell.

—B-but I needed money…

The merchant tensed and stormed toward Julián—You stole my money, you damn leech! Miserable bastard!

The men witnessing the scene rushed to hold him back, urging him to calm down. Giovanni raised a hand, commanding silence.

—Julián, this contract is officially invalid because you sold something that wasn’t yours. Now, that doesn’t mean you don’t owe this man money.

The drunk lowered his head.

—I got nothing to pay him with, sheriff…

The merchant crossed his arms. —Then he better give me something in return!

Giovanni looked Julián up and down. Then he clicked his tongue and said:

—You have until Sunday to pay him back. If not, I’ll see you at the station to discuss what we can do.

Julián went pale. —B-but…

—No buts. And you better get that money without getting into more trouble.

The merchant hesitated, but eventually nodded.

—If he pays me, I got no issue.

Giovanni handed the contract back.

—Good. The cows go back to their rightful owner. And Julián, if you don’t have the money, the merchant will be allowed to take something of value from your property. But we’ll settle that on Sunday.

The matter was closed. The cows returned to their rightful owner, and Julián stumbled away, probably wondering how he was going to come up with the money.

—And you. —said the sheriff, turning to Eugenio.

—You too—what were you thinking, trusting someone like Julián? That man would sell his own mother—God rest her soul—for a glass of tequila. Why’d you leave your cattle with him?

Some of the bystanders chuckled at the comment, but others just sighed, knowing full well that Julián was absolutely capable of such a thing.

—Ay, sheriff. Truth is, I was in a big rush… I won’t do it again.

Giovanni sighed.

—Next time, just tell me and I’ll keep them in the stables for you. —He patted Eugenio on the shoulder for encouragement—. I’ll also ask Rafa or Noé to go check the fields in case they spot your other cow. I’ll ride out too, just in case.

Eugenio’s face lit up, and he thanked him before taking his animals back.

Giovanni sighed as the crowd began to disperse.

Another problem solved.