Clean and crisp, the new Sherriff's office smells vaguely of varnish and freshly-cut pine. Simple lines make up the room's construction: the walls are made of perfectly-planed planks, each polished and carefully fitted. The floor, made of the same planks, continues the line created by the walls. There is a fairly large oak desk at the rear of the room, made to match the massive oak door that leads to the jail cells beyond. Opposite the desk are two somewhat worn oak chairs. A newly-polished potbelly stove keeps the office warm, and serves as a good place to house a pot for coffee. There is also a shiny new gun rack, a worn coat rack with small burn marks, and a single glass and oak wall vitrine, for posting Wanted notices. A small lantern upon the desk illuminates the room in soft glows and swirling shadows. A cool autumn breeze ruffles the old cloth that is draped over the window. A small bookshelf behind the desk holds various legal texts in addition to works by Shakespeare, Goethe, and Voltaire. On top of the shelf sits a pitcher of water and a few drinking glasses.
William Tucker stands just under 6 feet. He has always been lanky and wiry, and even with age, that image still describes him. He appears to be in his late thirties to early forties. His skin is darkly tanned from many years in the sun. Wrinkles add texture to his face, drawing firm lines across what was once a smooth face. His hair is a short, sandy brown. A Scattering of grey mark his temples and travel over his ears. A sight somewhat premature for a man who still seems youthful. His eyes are hazel and expressive of his moods, changing with emotion and light. A shiny silver star, surrounded by a circle, is always visible upon his left breast. The badge of a Federal Marshal. Tucker is wearing faded demin pants, an off white cotton shirt, and a brown leather vest. Brown, sharp-toed boots are on his feet, and a large grey cowboy hat rests upon his head. A leather hatband, decorated with pewter buttons surronds the hat. A brown leather gun holster hangs low on his hips. Brass .38 bullets surround the holster at regular intervals. A pair of Remington revolvers lie strapped on either hip, the left hanging lower than the right. The revolvers are kept carefully oiled and cleaned. The handles are hand-maded. Ornately engraved, the letters 'WT' rest along the butt of each pistol. A safty strap is usually kept snapped over the hammer of each revolver.
Alexander This young boy is perhaps somewhere between twelve to fourteen years old, standing 5'2". He is generally unsmiling, and blue eyes look out from under a slope hat, his face dirty and his hands too. Some blond hairs stick out from under the hat, betraying his haircolor. He wears a pair of brown simple pants, a pair of wellworn but sturdy boots and a white shirt and a vest on his upper body. A black cloak on top of this, that is at least two sizes too big for him, but offers some warmth.
Marshal William Tucker sits behind the large oak desk that serves as the centerpiece to this room. A cup of coffee dangles from his hand as he skims over a newspaper. Mostly he is minding the store while the sheriff is continuing to recover from his recent injuries. He looks up as the front door opens. Alexander pulls the door open almost violently and tumbles in to the office. His running steps has been heard on the porch just previously. Holding on to the door he sort of stops in midstride when seeing Tucker, and stares with iceblue eyes at the Marshal. "Yer not the Sheriff." he notes, sounding rather peeved by that fact.
Tucker cracks a small smile as he regards the young teen. He shakes his head, "Nope, fraid not. Got a badge though, all the same. Somethin' I can help ya with?" Considering everything that has been happening lately, William wouldn't he half surprised to hear about another emergency preparing to descend upon this town. He regards the boy carefully, taking a mental note of his appearance.
Alexander looks rather small and skinny, a thin face with large eyes. He now straightens up and shoves the door closed, pulling off his hat, staring at Tucker unsmilingly. Appearing not to be very impressed. "Nah, don't think so. I jest wanted to say thanks to the sheriff fer lettin' Hank an' Thierry outta here. I told him they shouldn't be in jail. Seems he was listenin' ta me." He grins slightly. As if this is all his work.
William's head briefly turns to regard the jail in the back of the sheriff's office before returning to Alexander. "Whelp, sounds like you gave him some good advice. I was mighty sad to hear about what happened to those two fellahs. Hank has always seemed like a straight shooter to me, and Mister Mercer has had a whole passel of troubles come down his way lately." Too much trouble, if you cared to ask Tucker's opinion further. He doesn't disagree with the sheriff's opinion though.
Alexander nods contently to that. "Dinnae see why they had ta go to jail in the first place, but Mrs Barron said it was the law." He smirks, unimpressed by such laws. "Don't matter none now though, I guess. An' there won't be no more trouble fer Hank, an' Theo, an' Thierry. I'll see to that." Quite protective of those three, this lad.
"Whell Ahrm sure we would all like to see trouble stop, specially from that crowd. Ahrm Marshal Tucker, by the way. I guess you can say that the sheriff takes care of the town, and I take care of everything else." He introduces himself all friendly-like, but he doesn't rise from his chair and seems to expect an introduction in return. He also inquires, "How have you come to know Theo and Thierry?"
Alexander steps closer to the desk. "I'm Alex." he introduces himself with a small polite nod. "Thierry an' Theo?" He scratches the back of his head. "Thierry bought me a beer once, an' he was nice ta me, an' Theo too. So now I'm nice back. I look after them, ya know."
Matilda raps very lightly upon the door to the office before looking inward.
"Good to meet you Alex. Ahrv never seen a pair needin' more lookin' after than those two. Seems like they have been in trouble more than not since they arrived in Maddock. Now... I ain't one to say that its their fault one way or another. But a troubled clouds been hangin' over those fellahs and there's no arguin' that. Iffin yer gonna be lookin' after them, I know the sheriff and I would be glad to help ya. So's if any more trouble comes, make sure you fetch us right off." He looks towards the door as someone else enters.
Alexander relaxes a little and looks at the Marshal with some more respect. "I sure will." he promises. He turns sideways to look at the one entering, spinning the hat around in his hands casually. He nods almost imperceptibly at Matilda. "Miss." Matilda returns Alexander's nod, saying, "Monsieur." The Marshal receives a sudden, warm smile. "'Allo, Monsieur Marshal. Am I disturbing? If so, pardon moi."
William smiles warmly. He pinches the brim of his hat and mentions, "Good Morning Miss Moreau, you ain't inturruptin' one bit. Alex and I were just gettin' all acquainted. Is there somethin' I can help ya with?" He wonders if the young lady has mended fences with her uncle, considering he hasn't seen her wandering around town lately. Course with all the hullaballoo going on around here lately, he is lucky to notice much of anything.
Alexander stares openly at Matilda, in quite much the same way he did earlier, when they met in the boarding house. Obviously, he isn't very much taken by Matilda's pretty appearance. Maybe he's still too young for that. "That's right. Ya ain't disturbin'. Me an' the Marshal have finished our business." he says, rather cockily.
Matilda looks at Alexander for an instant as if bewildered by him. "Merci," she says with a little nod as she fully enters the office and closes the door against the cold. To the Marshal, another smile is given as she looks back to him. "I do not mean to be a bother, but do you know where I might find work? Mon oncle, well. He still disowns me. I have no place to stay, so I am with the docteur for now."
Tucker takes a strong drink from his coffee cup, nodding his head and watching Matilda. He makes a motion to the pot perking on the pot bellied stove. "Now you two help yerselves to some coffee iffin you need to warm yer bones." He pauses for a moment, obviously giving some thought to Matilda's question. "Whell now... let me think... Kei sure didn't mention that you were staying out there. Ahrm mighty sorry to hear about you and yer uncle Maam. It just don't seem right to leave family out on a limb like this." William shakes his head disapproving of her uncles actions.
Alexander saunters over to the coffeepot, and pours up for himself. A slight hesitation and a glance at Matilda, and he pours up for her too and walks back to her, holding out the cup towards her.
Matilda accepts the cup, curling her mittened fingers around it. She offers a friendly smile to Alex and blushes more than a little when she looks back to Tucker. "The docteur, he does not encourage me to stay, Monsieur Marshal. I think he would be much happier, if I found another place. To do that, I must find work. And... not at the boarding house, s'il vous plait?"
Williams brow furrows as he listens to Matilda. He lost her a bit there at the end when she slipped into French, but he got the message loud and clear. He inquires, "What's wrong with the boarding house? I understand that new lady who owns the joint is pleasant enough. Perhaps not as warm as Miss Caroline was, but runs a good place all the same. I thought you were purty happy servin' up meals there." He doesn't really keep up on all the chains of gossip, so he missed the rumors as to why Matilda quit.
"The hotel's almost done, ain't it?" Alex mumbles out. Grudgingly trying to be helpful, finding some sympathy in his thin body. "Mebbe they need folks there or somethin'."
"Well, you see, Monsieur Marcel lives there." Matilda pauses to moisten her lips, studying her coffee cup with sudden fascination. "We were engaged to be married, but I...I ended it."
Oh, that. William smiles slightly and nods. "Whell... Maddock is a purty small town, so's there is only so much you can do..." He is sympathetic though. He nods at Alexs suggestion, "I agree with Alex here, that's a pretty good idea. The hotel is bound to have lots of jobs opening up... Umm... I know Wilona Jenkins has a business opening up too, maybe she might be lookin' for a young gal such as yerself." William smiles, then, as he thinks about what kind of place Wilona is opening up, he hastily mentions. "Umm, you know maybe someone to check coats, or help clean up there after hours." A small bit of color graces his cheeks, but he covers his embarrassment well. There is a difference between a girl looking for work, and a working girl.
"Yeah, the Gentlemens' Club." Alex agrees with William, nodding. He raises his eyebrows at Tucker, noticing the color on his cheeks before he turns back to Matilda and says, quite seriously (is there a hint of mischief in those eyes?), "Checkin' coats won't give ya as much money as if ya show yer legs fer the... gentlemen, however." He takes a sip of his coffee, face calm and neutral.
Matilda repeats, "Wilona Jenkins?" A sip of coffee is taken and the girl thinks for a moment's pause. Matilda turns her head to look darkly at Alex. Her chin lifts. "I do not do those sorts of things," she says to him in admonishment. "Monsieur Marshal knows this." Her grey eyes return to Tucker. There's still a hint of lightning in them. "Will you speak to Wilona Jenkins on my behalf? I would be very grateful. I do not mind to clean and I can cook a little."
Tucker gives Alex a slightly sour look, the boy is entirely to smart for his own good. He can't help but repress a smile though, especially at the boys seriousness. He returns his attention to Matilda, "Sure, Ahrd be glad to do that. I imagine that it would be openin' up here soon. Sure is a lot of luxuries for a town this size. Specially considering we don't even have a doctor's office in the town, or a courthouse yet. I guess with the death of the Mayor, these things have been put on hold. Ahrv had a county clerk position open for months now that I can't fill til that courhouse is built."
Alexander cocks his head to the side. "I gonna ask fer a job in the Gentlemen's club too." he explains, taking a precarious sip of the hot coffee. "Figger I gonna make more money there than workin' in the stables. So, mebbe we gonna work at the same place, ehh, Miss?" He grins at Matilda and sort of looks down towards her legs. Or, her skirt. Someone should perhaps show this boy some good manners one of these days.
Matilda lifts her eyebrows and carries her empty cup to the desk. She places the cup there and eyes Alex in disapproval. It's obvious that she finds Tucker to be the gentleman in the room by the way she turns back to him and her expression softens. "I thank you for your help, Monsieur Marshal. However, I have promised to take some fresh bread to Monsieur O'Dwyer, so I should be going."
Tucker looks at Alex, "You gonna look for work there too eh? Maybe I should get a job there myself, sounds like a good place to be." He laughs shortly before clenching the brim of his hat, "You take care of yourself out in that cold Miss Moreau. Check back with me in a couple days and maybe Ahrl have an answer for you from Wilona." He hasn't asked Wilona exactly how many people she is hiring. He knows, last he heard, that Angelique will be working there. Of course, in an entirely different capacity.
Alexander shrugs, and finishes his own coffee, grinning contently to himself. Suddenly realizing the joy of teasing like he just did, no matter how rude it is. "Nice ta meet ya, Miss Moraeu." he says, nodding much more politely this time, eyes glittering. Maybe he *isn't* too young, after all. He rummages through his coat pocket and finds a halfsmoked cigarette and matches, and lights it up. Letting it dangling from the corner of his mouth experimentally without really smoking it. (Seems the Sheriff has made an impression on him.)
Matilda seems amused by Alex and his cigarette. She nods to him and then to Tucker. "Merci beaucoup, Monsieur. Thank you. As always, your kindness warms my heart." Maybe this girl -does- have a liking for older men. After all, she was briefly engaged to Thierry Marcel. Turning for the door, Matilda pulls up the hood of her cloak and steps outside.
Matilda moves off towards the road outside.
William shakes his head and blinks his eyes a bit after Matilda leaves. Now there is another lost soul if there ever was one. He can't help but feel sorry for the girl though, what with her parents dying and now her uncle refusing to even talk to her. He asks of Alex, "Where are you staying Alex? You have parents in this town?" with the thoughts of Matilda's plight still fresh on his mind.
Alexander puffs on the cigarette. Coughs a little, not really used to it. "Wha'?" he asks distractedly, voice suddenly a bit raspy, tears forming in his eyes. "Nah. They're dead." he says matter of factly, no real emotion in his voice. "But I'm workin' in the stables, an' sometimes I sleep there, an' sometimes with Theo an' Thierry... though it's kinda crowded in their room."
William watches Alexander and frowns, although it doesn't appear directed at Alexander. "Whell now... that doesn't seem right. Specially this time of year, sleepin' in the stable is no place to be. So you don't have any family around to take care of you? Not in some other place?" There isn't exactly an orphanage in Maddock, and the boy is getting a bit to old to be in one much longer anyway."
Alexander decides to give the cigarette up, and kills it off in the sheriff's ashtray. "I used ta live in shady lane." he notes dryly, intense, frank, blue eyes watching Tucker. "Sure as hell beats livin' there, I can tell ya. An' no, ain't got no family aroun' to take care of me. I can take care of meself." He doesn't really answer the question if there is family somewhere else, however. Tucker would probably know that a young boy was involved in the violent things that happend in Shady Lane not long ago, the events surrounding Theo Grey.
Tucker snorts and looks down at his newspaper, he turns a page idly without really reading it. "Well... still. Ahrm glad to see your trying to pick yerself up by the bootstraps, but yer still young." He picks up his mug of coffee again and takes another sip. William ran away from home at 14, probably not a whole lot older than this boy is. He didn't fall into a good crowd, to say the least. He looks back over at Alex, "You know where the Readon place is? Over on the east side of town? Well, that's where Miss Jenkins and I live. You find you don't have a warm place to stay, you come there. Alright? There ain't no need to be sleeping under bales of hay during the middle of winter."
Seems the whole town is wanting to save Alexander. It's not the first person who has offered help. "I'll remember that." he says stoically, frowning. To proud for his own good, and generally untrusting of most people. He peers a bit at the newspaper. THen he sighs and puts his hat back on. "I gotta go ta work now, Marshal. Was nice meetin' ya. An' thanks fer the coffee."