February Novel Essential Information

Novel Title: Something Changed

Time Setting: 2021

Genre: Life

Minimum Word Goal: 90,000

Timespan: April–June

Location: Vaughan, Ontario

Main Character: Luke Warm

Background Information: 

Born the only son and youngest of two children to a financial executive and his architect wife, Luke’s life can be best defined as average, really. His family size is average, his parents’ occupations — and their statuses within their occupations — are average, and even his school performance is average.

Additionally, like any average Canadian youth, he’s been playing hockey from a young age, and his performance in hockey has even been generally average, which is one of two reasons that are actually prompting him to reconsider his future in hockey — the other is the demoralising lack of success of the nearest NHL club to his home, the Toronto Maple Leafs, who have failed to win the Stanley Cup in over sixty years, and for whom the next sixty years look less than promising.

Yet not everything is completely average for Luke, after all, his family attends church, which may not be too out-of-the-ordinary, except that they don’t go to a Catholic church, and since Vaughan is home to a lot of Italians, Catholic churches are the ones most commonly attended.

To Luke, though, their church is pretty average, which makes it highly boring, and Luke, for one, is at a loss as to why his family even goes, after all, his sister considers it boring too, and both of his parents have also bemoaned having to get up early on a weekend morning, or having to interact with some of the people who attend.

Another thing that isn’t average in Luke’s life is music; in fact, music isn’t even average in his family, as he’s the only member of his family who plays a musical instrument — and he actually plays two.

He acquired an interest in music from meeting his best friend, Finn, way back on his first day of school. Finn’s dad is a composer and multi-instrumentalist who has instruments throughout the house, and if the instruments aren’t being played by someone, then someone is playing recorded music, or even just singing.

Contrasted with the silence of his own home, Luke was drawn to the music, and eagerly accepted the offer to learn music from Finn’s dad, starting with the clarinet. He started playing the guitar a few years ago so that he and Finn can play together, doing their best to imitate their favourite bands and artists.

Indeed, Luke and Finn hope to one day form a band of their own — which is another reason why Luke is contemplating hanging up his skates at fourteen — and to play at concerts someday, but they both are well aware that their parents won’t condone their dropping out of school to do so, thus they haven’t started yet, and won’t be beginning for another three years or so.

As the three-year wait will allow them to learn more and also be able to stock up enough money to support them until they achieve the success they anticipate, Luke isn’t altogether impatient, he also certainly doesn’t expect anything too spectacular or outside of the average to happen until then, but he does sometimes wish life was a little bit more interesting, as three years might not seem so long that way. 

Ignition: Day 15

Word Total: 90,024

Year to Date: 90,024

Summary of Events:

Mrs. Carrigan asked Rebekka about her family, and Rebekka decided she trusted Mrs. Carrigan enough to tell her about them. Keiller attended the town meeting where Cyril was publicly declared no longer the deputy marshal of Rock Creek. Cyril got angry at the proclamation and punched the mayor, prompting Keiller to arrest him for aggravated assault and lock him up. That night Keiller startled awake and after a moment realised he was smelling smoke . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Scrambling out of bed, Keiller surged to the window and looked out. He could see no flames, and hauling the window open only gave him fresh air in his lungs. No smoke outside.

That meant smoke inside. The office was on fire!

Immediately Keiller scrambled into his clothes and yanked out the dresser drawers in which all his clothes were contained. He dumped them all onto his quilt and gathered the corners in a bundle, as well as ensuring he had everything else he was sure he needed.

Keiller opened the door into the sitting room, which immediately left him coughing and choking from smoke. He searched for a handkerchief and put it over his mouth before making his way down the stairs and out the back door.

An orange glow lit the wall of the shuttered milliner’s shop, so Keiller hurried around the other side and put the bundle of clothes onto the boardwalk across the street.

Was there anything else he needed from inside? His desk. All the papers that were in it were vital. He’d lose everything about Marshal Evans’ murder if he let his desk go up in flames.

Keiller tied the handkerchief over his face and rushed to the main door, which was locked. He shot the lock off and raced inside. Grabbing one of the narrow ends of his desk, he dragged it out of the office and a ways down the boardwalk to the east.

Now there was the question of water. Where was he going to get water to fight the fire?

There was a pump in the stable.

Huntress!

Keiller rushed back to the stables. Wily had been taken by Mr. Thorpe to be held until what was to be done with Cyril’s effects was determined, but Huntress was still in the stable, which was too close to the office for comfort in Keiller’s mind.

He opened the door into Huntress’ stall and heard his mare surge out of it as he raced into the tack room to fetch her tack and haul it over to where the quilt with his clothes in it was.

Shouts and clanging bells reached his ears at that point, and he saw that the flames had jumped onto the milliner’s shop. Keiller swore. All or part of this town had gone up in smoke three times already, was this going to be a fourth?

Silhouetted people appeared, someone gave Keiller a bucket full of water and he threw it at the flames.

“We have to rescue the marshal!” Keiller heard someone shout.

“I’m here!” Keiller called. “I’m fine! Don’t go in there!”

“But what about Mr. Gillies?” Mr. Bowden’s voice startled Keiller with its closeness.

Keiller looked at the flames. Cyril was in there. But he’d also likely started the fire, considering where it was. Keiller looked at Mr. Bowden.

“It’d be blood on our hands to leave him there,” Mr. Bowden said, his gaze serious.

Reluctantly Keiller nodded. It would be murder, and Keiller had no intentions of having something like that hang over his head for the rest of his days.

Next Post: 30 January

Ignition: Day 14

Word Count: 84,010

Summary of Events:

After having his wounds tended to, Keiller was offered a bed to rest on by Dr. Carrigan because he looked so tired from the fight; he accepted it and ended up sleeping late enough to stay to supper, during which he explained what had caused the fight, including mentioning that his mother had been slandered. Rebekka wondered about Keiller's mother, and was surprised when Mrs. Carrigan said that she'd never actually heard Keiller talk about his family before. The following morning Keiller went to tell the mayor about the fight, and ended up having to admit that a female prisoner had been in his cells, although he lied that she'd been a lost hiker whom he'd released almost right away because she was innocent . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Old Corny nodded. “I do think you should tell everyone that.”

“I don’t know,” Keiller replied. “They’re all rather worked up right now, might want to let the dust settle a bit.”

“I guess that’s true,” Old Corny admitted.

“Do you think this is going to influence what you do with Cyril?” Keiller asked.

“No,” Old Corny replied. “My decision is already made.”
“Oh,” Keiller said. “What is it?”

“He will be relieved of his position,” Old Corny replied.

“For what reason specifically?” Keiller asked.

“Possessing immoral and indecent images,” Old Corny replied. “As well as a general laziness and related incompetence that has made paying him a wage a waste of this town’s money. But according to the laws I’m the one who has to tell him, and I’d like to rest a couple more days before I do that.”

Keiller nodded, feeling pleased to think that Cyril was soon to become Mr. Gillies instead of Deputy Gillies.

“I am sorry to leave absolutely everything to you now,” Old Corny said. “But it was what had to be done. This town deserves better than he’s ever been inclined to give it. I think he should’ve been relieved of his position long ago.”

“For the most part it shouldn’t be too much more for me to do,” Keiller said. “After all, I was doing most of it on my own as it was while he shot pool at Seegar’s.”

Old Corny nodded.

“So, then I probably would start looking for a new deputy?” Keiller asked.

“If you feel the need,” Old Corny replied. “We can also put out an advertisement in area papers that we’re looking for someone.”

Keiller nodded. “I probably won’t do anything like that right away, but I do feel like it wouldn’t necessarily be the worst of things to do, as you never know what might happen, and there are times when it just might be handy to be able to have someone else around to take care of things if something should call me elsewhere.”

Old Corny nodded. “We can discuss it more later, but I am grateful that you brought this matter to my attention. I’ll make sure that Mr. Bowden is nearby when I make the announcement, as he may be required to ensure that Cyril gets out of town.”

“Hopefully he’ll stay out,” Keiller said. “Instead of causing trouble.”
“Hopefully,” Old Corny agreed. “But I don’t know if we can really be sure.”

Shifting his jaw, Keiller nodded. He, unfortunately, had to agree with Old Corny, it was entirely possible that Cyril wouldn’t want to leave town and stay away, but would want to come back and do whatever he could to execute vengeance onto those who had decided to relieve him of his position altogether. Keiller felt nervous at the thought, as there was really no telling just what Cyril might do to get his revenge.

Ignition: Day 13

Word Count: 78,010

Summary of Events:

Keiller went to the mayor's house to learn what was going to happen next; he was told by the mayor that there were grounds in the town's laws to get Cyril's badge revoked, but that the mayor was going to deliberate on it for a few days. Returning to the office, Keiller found Cyril was looking for his picture and the two ended up getting into a brawl that ended because they were both exhausted. Keiller managed to recover sooner and get to Dr. Carrigan's for tending of his injuries, where he warned Rebekka to hide before Cyril arrived and recognised her, causing Rebekka to panic . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Immediately she rushed back into the kitchen, set the peach and knife she’d still been holding down, washed and dried her hands, and removed her apron before fleeing up the stairs as fast as she could.

Closing her bedroom door, Rebekka rushed over to her bed and sat down on it. She guessed that Deputy Gillies was the one who’d beaten and bloodied Marshal Bartlett, and she feared to think he might be coming over with intent to harm her too. Had Deputy Gillies found out she’d been moved?

She waited, feeling highly anxious, for some time before she heard feet coming up the stairs, which initially filled her with anxiety before she realised the tread was soft and calm. Deputy Gillies assuredly would stomp up the stairs if he were in a rage enough to do what he’d done to Marshal Bartlett.

Mrs. Carrigan’s soft knock sounded on the door before she opened it and stepped inside, smiling softly at Rebekka.

“Fleming doesn’t want you fretting, it isn’t good for your baby,” Mrs. Carrigan said, closing the door behind her.

Rebekka looked down at her abdomen and touched it gently. She still hadn’t felt anything within that proved to her she was pregnant, and even dreaded the day when she would feel what she could only consider presently the spawn of a monster, but there were certainly changes in her body that were consistent with what had happened when Karita was pregnant, meaning that she assuredly was in the same state.

“Marshal Bartlett says he got into a fight with Deputy Gillies,” Mrs. Carrigan said, sitting down on the bed beside her. “Deputy Gillies isn’t in much of a better state than Marshal Bartlett, and thus will probably need to be tended to by Fleming, but Marshal Bartlett was able to get here first.”

“Why did they fight?” Rebekka asked.

“I have a feeling it relates to what happened at the office last night,” Mrs. Carrigan replied. “Apparently a mob was there and searched the whole building, and they made that discovery mentioned by Fleming at breakfast. Not that they’ve really gotten along all that well, from the start even, if I’m not mistaken. They’ve certainly never seemed best friends as long as they’ve both been here. It’s likely they were only tolerating one another, and they’ve come to the point where they’re not even interested in doing that any longer.”

“Oh,” Rebekka said.

“And I’m guessing Marshal Bartlett doesn’t want Deputy Gillies to know he released you into our care, as that would create even more scandal than there already is in town,” Mrs. Carrigan said. “And we’ve hardly had a week since Marshal Bartlett got those rumours about you to abate. Not that I feel lying is appropriate.”

“Lying?” Rebekka asked.

“He is lying by not admitting that you were down there,” Mrs. Carrigan said. “It really is a challenging position, though, because if he told the truth, then people would want to get you out of town for sure, if not even us, as well as Marshal Bartlett.”

Ignition: Day 12

 Word Count: 72,052

Summary of Events:

Keiller was able to convince the women of Rock Creek that Rebekka was not only not an actress, but that she couldn't be arrested for being one if she was thanks to the mayor's wife — despite her contempt for him — agreeing with him. Rebekka was surprised when Dr. Carrigan reported to her and his wife that the citizens were up in arms about a reported woman in the jail cells, with Dr. Carrigan fearing Keiller might get killed, something Rebekka had to admit she might appreciate, as it would likely cause the elimination of the charges against her and allow her to go home. Keiller was startled by the arrival of a mob with the frail mayor in tow, who wanted to search the office for a woman, but he let them look — as even though there had been a woman, there wasn't one presently — and was just as surprised as they were when they produced a picture of a dancing girl with an affectionate note to Cyril, which prompted them to depart, ostensibly to find Cyril, leaving Keiller and the mayor behind . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“I didn’t think what they’d said about you was true,” Old Corny said. “This is more believable.”

“But still shocking,” Keiller said.

“Yes,” Old Corny agreed. “There was also his effort to take over as marshal while you were injured though. Speaking of which, how did you get injured?”

Keiller hesitated. Considering how he’d proven himself innocent by way of not telling the people Rebecca had been in his cells, and was now Dr. and Mrs. Carrigan’s houseguest, he couldn’t tell the truth.

“It was an accident,” Keiller replied. “It happened during the big storm.”

“That was a storm,” Old Corny said. “Lucky you weren’t killed.”

“Or injured worse than I was,” Keiller agreed.

“Well, I guess I should get home,” Old Corny said. “All this being up has made me tired.”

“What should we do with the photo though, Mayor?” Keiller asked.

Old Corny looked at it again. “Well, I guess you should keep it as evidence, as I’m sure there’s going to be an enquiry opened up now.”

Keiller nodded and took the photo. He slid the picture under some papers on his desk so Cyril wouldn’t find it and looked to Old Corny, who looked weary. He probably wouldn’t want to ride astride home, and there was no carriage in the stable — but Huntress did know how to pull one if needed.

A knock sounded on the door and Keiller looked up to see Dr. Carrigan, who looked a little surprised.

“Did you drive over Doctor?” Keiller asked.

“Yes, I did,” Dr. Carrigan replied. “Mrs. Sattin asked me to come because she was worried, and I think she had every right to be.”

“You’re a wonderful man Doctor,” Old Corny said. “I could sleep for a week with all the excitement of those people.”

Keiller and Dr. Carrigan helped Old Corny out to the waiting two-person trap, where he settled down comfortably.

“All’s well with you Marshal?” Dr. Carrigan asked.

“You had reason to be concerned?” Keiller asked.

“Considering the rumours, I thought you might get lynched,” Dr. Carrigan replied.

“Well, if Cyril would be more careful about where he puts gifts from special female friends he might be able to get me out of town,” Keiller replied. “But until then, my position is secure.”

“Oh,” Dr. Carrigan said, looking puzzled. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. But I should get him home. Good night Marshal.”

“Good night,” Keiller replied.

He waited until Dr. Carrigan had pulled away before returning inside the office and drawing out the picture again. V was somewhat pretty, and Keiller felt she showed quite clearly just what kind of woman Cyril liked. Even if he never met her, though, Keiller was grateful that V had been so thoughtful as to give Cyril something to remember her by, as it had certainly saved Keiller from what could well have been a nasty end. As for Cyril, it could well be the beginning of his end.

Ignition: Day 11

Word Count: 66,009

Summary of Events:

Mrs. Wharton confronted Keiller with more outlandish rumours about Rebekka's being an indecent actress that he wasn't able to talk her out of believing, so he went to Dr. and Mrs. Carrigan's house to tell them what was going around about Rebekka. Rebekka and Mrs. Carrigan were horrified to learn of the rumours, which were confirmed when Mrs. Tory, who lived directly across the road, came to call . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“And here is our actress,” Mrs. Tory said, sounding disdainful.

“I am not an actress,” Rebekka replied curtly.

“Aren’t you?” Mrs. Tory asked. “You certainly look as if you could be.”

“Indeed no,” Mrs. Carrigan replied. “She’s a young woman in need whom Fleming and I are taking care of.”

Mrs. Tory didn’t look convinced. Rebekka felt upset at her scepticism.

“That doesn’t mean she isn’t an actress,” Mrs. Tory said.

“I’m not an actress,” Rebekka said. “I am going home to visit my family.”

“Actresses can go home and visit their families,” Mrs. Tory said.

“Please stay calm dear,” Mrs. Carrigan said, gently touching Rebekka’s shoulder.

Rebekka didn’t know how she could stay calm. She wanted to cry and throw things at Mrs. Tory, but she was in trouble enough with Marshal Bartlett as it was, she didn’t want to get more charges applied to her.

“And what is wrong with actresses?” Mrs. Carrigan asked, looking toward Mrs. Tory.

“They’re highly immoral, indecent creatures,” Mrs. Tory replied. “It would be a horrible degradation of Rock Creek for one to even visit here.”

“And none is,” Rebekka said, her voice sounding slightly choked because of her verging tears.

“My, you are quite the actress, aren’t you?” Mrs. Tory said.

“I am not!” Rebekka cried, the tears rushing to her eyes.

“Mrs. Tory, please,” Mrs. Carrigan said. “If you are going to be this rude you can kindly leave my house. Surely a real actress wouldn’t be so adamant to deny her identity.”

“But of course she would,” Mrs. Tory replied. “She wouldn’t want to be forced to leave, after all.”

Rebekka put her face in her hands and sobbed.

“Mrs. Tory, you are not welcome in my home,” Mrs. Carrigan said. “Please take your leave at once. I will not have you insulting and upsetting my houseguests.”

“Well if your houseguest wasn’t an indecent person,” Mrs. Tory said.

“Mrs. Tory, you are leaving, now,” Mrs. Carrigan replied sharply.

“Out of all people I wouldn’t have expected you and your husband to deign to such depths,” Mrs. Tory said. “Good day.”

A sharp, annoyed stride receded from the room, and Rebekka was almost immediately enveloped in an embrace. She wept into Mrs. Carrigan’s shoulder.

“Marshal Bartlett was more than right,” Mrs. Carrigan said. “People can become so fixed on false ideas it’s just astonishing.”

If only she could get home, but the only way she could get home was if Marshal Bartlett cancelled the charges against her, and she didn’t think that he was going to do that, he just wasn’t that sort of person.

“The fact that people are even believing Mrs. Hames,” Mrs. Carrigan said. “I am at a loss.”

Rebekka sobbed even harder to think of Mrs. Hames and the frustration of her visit, and to think that she was doomed to stay in this town until whenever that judge might happen to come. She hated this place. These people were horrible. She didn’t know how Dr. and Mrs. Carrigan could stand it.

Ignition: Day 10

 Word Count: 60,309

Summary of Events:

Leaving Dr. and Mrs. Carrigan's house after having stayed for a tasty lunch, Keiller spied the town gossip, Mrs. Hames, lurking outside and feared rumours might develop. Rebekka and Mrs. Carrigan were making raspberry jam when Mrs. Hames came to visit, a visit that proved trying because of Mrs. Hames' failing hearing, and her unwillingness to admit it was failing. Keiller was later confronted by Mrs. Wharton, who'd heard from Mrs. Hames that Keiller was visiting Dr. and Mrs. Carrigan's house to flirt with an actress, but Keiller convinced her it was all nonsense. Rebekka was working on sewing some gowns for her baby while Mrs. Carrigan made supper, and Dr. Carrigan, to her indignation, suggested that she apprise Keiller of her surname like he wanted . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Even if he is impatient, and maybe even lacking in some areas of character, he isn’t dastardly, underhanded, or corrupt,” Dr. Carrigan said. “In fact, in some ways I feel he’s even better at upholding the law than Marshal Evans was. He’s certainly much better than Deputy Gillies. I can assure you.”

Nevertheless, Dr. Carrigan hadn’t heard the threats Marshal Bartlett had made to her, and she also didn’t think a marshal could be very good if he let his deputy marshal do dastardly and despicable things.

“In fact, I’m impressed at what he’s done for you so far,” Dr. Carrigan said.

“What he’s done for me?” Rebekka asked, looking up from her sewing.

“Well, he did let you come stay with us, as well as allow us to give you clean clothes and the ability to tidy your hair,” Dr. Carrigan said.

“I don’t understand that he did any of those things with complete willingness,” Rebekka said.

“Nonetheless, considering the poor relations between the two of you, he did relent, and without overlong delays,” Dr. Carrigan replied. “And I’m impressed by that.”

“You thought he would put up more of a fight?” Rebekka asked.

“Yes,” Dr. Carrigan replied. “He’s certainly not one who gives up easily.”

Still, he had threatened her, and let his deputy handle her indecently, and make inappropriate comments toward her.

“The most impressive thing, however, was what he did willingly,” Dr. Carrigan said.

“But he didn’t do anything willingly,” Rebekka said.

“Yes,” Dr. Carrigan replied. “He did.”
“What are you talking about?” Rebekka asked.

“For the first few weeks you were in his care he ate the food that was supposed to have gone to you,” Dr. Carrigan replied.

Rebekka felt appalled. “And I’m supposed to appreciate that?”

“Considering that it was burnt, over-seasoned, and otherwise ruined, yes,” Dr. Carrigan replied.

“Ruined?” Rebekka asked.

“Yes,” Dr. Carrigan replied. “Apparently Mrs. Wharton was not impressed to know that Marshal Bartlett had a female prisoner, and so deliberately ruined the serving of food that was to be served to you, but Marshal Bartlett ate the servings instead and gave you his perfectly fine food.”

Rebekka didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t altogether sure she believed what Dr. Carrigan was telling her, it didn’t seem like something Marshal Bartlett would really do, it sounded more like a tale he’d told in order to get Dr. Carrigan to tell her to reveal her surname.

“And you believe him?” she asked.

“Yes,” Dr. Carrigan replied.

“You don’t think he’s lying just to get what he wants?” Rebekka asked.

“No,” Dr. Carrigan replied. “I promise you that he isn’t devious like that. He may not be perfectly upright, but he is actually more upright than some of the people who call themselves Christians in this town.”

She wasn’t convinced. To her this was more likely a story Marshal Bartlett had made up in an effort to get what he wanted, and she, for one, wasn’t going to buy it. She was disappointed that Dr. Carrigan had.

Ignition: Day 9

Word Count: 54,044

Summary of Events:

Rebekka very much enjoyed her first night spent in a comfortable bed in a long time, as well as being able to be up and about in brighter daylight, even if the reason why she was staying with Dr. and Mrs. Carrigan wasn't altogether pleasing to her. Keiller, feeling somewhat uneasy about what he'd agreed to, called on the Carrigans, and got frustrated, again, when Rebekka refused to tell him her surname, threatening to charge her with withholding information if she didn't tell him before the judge got to town and indignantly departing . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Marshal,” Dr. Carrigan’s voice stopped him and he turned to look.

Dr. Carrigan strode down the hallway to be face-to-face with Keiller.

“That’s rather vindictive,” Dr. Carrigan said.

“I need her name,” Keiller replied. “And you said I have every right to have it, but still she won’t give it to me.”

“You know what she was engaged in, willingly or not, Marshal,” Dr. Carrigan said.

“Why does that matter?” Keiller demanded.

“In my time before coming here to Rock Creek, I myself saw sheriffs, marshals, and all manner of other lawmen enter into such places,” Dr. Carrigan said. “They turned a blind eye to what was illegal for their own personal satisfaction, and few, I’m sure, were ever trusted by girls who wanted to escape as people to go to for help as a result. I know Rock Creek doesn’t have such an abominable facility within its limits, but maybe she doesn’t want to give you that information so you won’t be able to send her back to such a wretched place once she’s released. In her position, she’s seen a lot of corruption of important people, thus it’s entirely reasonable for her not to trust you, and your defensive and vindictive actions aren’t helping either. If you want her to give you her name, show her she can trust you.”

“But how have I shown her she can’t?” Keiller asked. “I’ve been polite, I’ve been nice, I even ate two weeks’ worth of the worst food you could imagine because Amaryllis Wharton wouldn’t cook her decent food, so I gave her my food and ate what was supposed to be hers.”

“Oh,” Dr. Carrigan said. “Mrs. Wharton cooked for you?”

“Cyril’s worse in the kitchen than I am,” Keiller replied. “And considering I was injured, do you really think she wouldn’t have gotten involved?”
“No,” Dr. Carrigan agreed, shaking his head.

“I’m certain she deliberately burned, over-seasoned, and otherwise ruined Rebecca’s food,” Keiller said. “And she didn’t even see Rebecca, all she knew was that our prisoner was female.”

Dr. Carrigan shook his head again. “That is very disappointing to hear.”

“Needless to say,” Keiller said. “I don’t think Rebecca’s holdout is justified. I don’t. I mean, maybe I should’ve let her get into fresh clothes sooner, but is that worth this? I’ll apologise, but still, I mean, she caused me physical harm, why shouldn’t I be a little bit sore at her? And, and even, despite my wounds, I went and got her medical care. I was trying to be nice to her.”

“Well maybe she just didn’t see it,” Dr. Carrigan said. “She’s probably spent a lot of time fearing men in general, she might not see the little things.”

“She trusted you just fine,” Keiller spat.

“It’s not the first time,” Dr. Carrigan replied. “And I think it’s because people can see that I’m different, because I’m a Christian. I’ve even had people who have said in no uncertain terms that they hate Christians trust me despite their antagonism toward my beliefs.”

Ignition: Day 8

Word Count: 48,187

Summary of Events:

Keiller was preparing breakfast when he heard a strange sound from the basement; when he went to investigate, he found Rebekka to be vomiting and was troubled. He became more troubled when she picked at not just her breakfast, but the lunch and supper he brought her, and so called Dr. Carrigan the following morning. Dr. Carrigan informed Keiller privately afterward that he was very certain Rebekka was pregnant, and recommended that Rebekka be released into his care for the duration. Rebekka was devastated by the news, as she was certain she knew who had made her pregnant, and she was disgusted to think she was carrying such a hideous and monstrous man's child. Keiller didn't altogether want to let Rebekka into Dr. Carrigan's care, but did eventually agree, on the condition that she was kept under constant surveillance, and handcuffed to the biggest piece of furniture in the room if she wasn't, which Dr. Carrigan felt was unnecessary, but agreed to, while his wife brought Rebekka a clean dress with sleeves to wear, and left Rebekka's old one to be destroyed by Keiller.

Excerpt of the Day:

Fresh images loomed in his mind that dared him to try and return to sleep. Another nightmare. He’d thought now that he’d sent the prisoner to stay with the Carrigans, his nightmares would reduce in frequency and severity, but this was the second time he’d woken up tonight alone because of a terrifying nightmare.

Keiller dropped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. What was it going to take to sleep for more than what felt like a few minutes or seconds before another horrifying nightmare tormented him?

His mind called up an image of the folded dress Mrs. Carrigan had given him that morning. He’d placed it up in the sitting room just for storage and considered the idea of washing it — as heaven knew Mrs. Wharton wouldn’t, even if she’d been rather quiet about the prisoner lately — and giving it to the prisoner, just to spite her, seeing how she’d told Mrs. Carrigan her name, but not him.

Thanks to Mrs. Carrigan, however, he was quite certain he knew what the name was, even though Mrs. Carrigan had only said about the first four letters.

To his knowledge, there was only one name that began with Rebe, and that name, was Rebecca*, meaning that Rebecca was the name of his prisoner. Helpful though that was, he did need her surname too, and he had a feeling that getting that out of Rebecca would be about as easy as digging to the centre of a mountain with a shovel.

Considering his nightmares, however, he wasn’t really sure that he could follow through with that. Additionally, he’d been instructed by Mrs. Carrigan that the dress was to be destroyed — which he suspected was Rebecca’s wish — and his nightmares seemed to be centring around the fact that he’d not done as he’d been instructed, even though he’d had all afternoon to do so.

Couldn’t his dreams realise that he’d gotten the message and intended to deal with the matter in the morning? Or did he have to go deal with it now in order to rest?

He was awake, and there was a likelihood the dress would emit a different-coloured smoke than usual, meaning that it might be a good idea to burn it now, when people weren’t awake — nor was the sky light enough — to notice or ask questions.

Sighing, Keiller climbed out of bed and found the lantern, which he took out of the room before lighting, allowing him to see the sitting room, and the folded dress laying where he’d set it.

It rather puzzled Keiller why he’d even been given it to destroy, as Dr. and Mrs. Carrigan had a fireplace and a stove they could use to burn it too, but he hadn’t asked them when it was given to him — having been too annoyed to have learned that Mrs. Carrigan had known Rebecca’s name all along — and he wasn’t going to wake them up to get the answer now. It was bad enough he was awake.

*as this is the most common spelling, Keiller is presuming that Rebekka’s name is spelled this way, even though it isn’t.

Ignition: Day 7

Word Count: 42,022

Summary of Events:

Rebekka was visited by Mrs. Carrigan, whom she asked questions about some of the town residents she'd heard of, learning some interesting and troubling things as a result. Keiller, having been given approval to ride again by Dr. Carrigan, rode out to Old Zach's place and asked him if he wanted to press any charges against Rebekka for what she'd done, which Old Zach did. Rebekka was informed by Keiller when he brought her supper that he had filed charges against her, and they could keep her locked up for a long time, and his pleasure at delivering this news to her made her quite troubled . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

If only there was some way she could escape. She didn’t think Mrs. Carrigan would help her do that, even if Mrs. Carrigan was being nice to her. After all, she had genuinely broken the law, and Mrs. Carrigan, as the wife of the doctor, knew well at least two of the things she had done for which she was now being charged.

But all she’d wanted to do was shelter from the storm safely and carry on her way home. She hadn’t wanted to commit any crimes. Surely people could understand that she hadn’t intended to do these things. All she wanted was to get back to a place she never should’ve allowed herself to be talked into leaving in the first place. Being jailed for an unknown number of years wouldn’t help her get home sooner.

Too, it would mean that Gunnar would have to wait even longer for her. He’d already waited long enough, and if she made him wait much longer then it was going to be guaranteed that he would be married to someone else.

Even now there were no guarantees that Gunnar hadn’t gotten married to someone else, but she felt that there was a possibility still, a reason yet to hope, and if she went to prison for years and years, there would be no further reason to hope whatsoever.

She and the rest would have to live alone, as she was sure there was no hope for Karita, Sigrid, or Annika, particularly, to get married owing to age, nor for any of them owing to defilement.

As much as they had Alfie to love and raise, he would have no father, nor any siblings, nor any cousins that he would know, for the cousins he did have were the children of his deceased aunt and her much-hated husband, whom neither his mother nor his aunts had any desire to ever see again, thus they would never see the children again either.

Tears filled her eyes. She loved Gunnar, and she wanted to marry him, but even now, considering what had happened to her after the fire, all hope could be lost, as despite her sisters’ diligent efforts, she was just as defiled as they were, even if she hadn’t been defiled as many times as they had been.

She had wanted to get home so that she could get married. She didn’t just want to be as far away from Sacramento as possible, she had wanted to find someone who would love her and keep her — as well as her sisters — safe, so that they would never again be forced to do what Viveka’s husband had forced them to by taking them to that abhorrent place.

Always she had harboured that dream, but at this point, it all seemed lost, not just for her sisters, but even for her.

Sobs shook her body and she buried her face in her hands. Oh, how she wished things could be different somehow. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be facing a future alone.

Pronunciations:

Karita: kahreetah

Sigrid: sihgrihd

Annika: ahnnihkah

Viveka: vihvehkah

Ignition: Day 6

Word Count: 36,010

Summary of Events:

Mrs. Carrigan brought Rebekka a hairbrush, ribbons, and pins, and helped her brush the tangles that had accumulated out of her hair. Keiller was quite impressed by the transformation having brushed and styled hair caused on Rebekka, and wondered if he shouldn't grant Mrs. Carrigan permission to bring her a clean dress — permission he'd told Mrs. Carrigan she didn't have. Several nights later, Keiller was woken by a nightmare that his deceased mother was upset at him for his treatment of Rebekka, which he didn't think was all that bad, considering that she was guilty of crimes . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

But what were the charges? What had she done?

Keiller didn’t recall what he’d called them when he’d filed them. He couldn’t even remember filing them. Had he even filed them?

The thought bothered Keiller like he was lying on a sharp rock. Sitting up, he felt around for his jeans and pulled them on, then he felt for the lantern, which was usually on his bedside table because even when Cyril was up late he always seemed to prefer to put it there, but found his bedside table was empty. Maybe Cyril had needed to make a late-night trip to the outhouse, it was too dark for Cyril to still be out somewhere.

Keiller moved carefully through the dark to the door, shuffled his feet across the sitting room to ensure that he didn’t trip over anything, and then made his way down the stairs to the kitchen.

Finding the second lantern which usually ended up remaining in the kitchen, Keiller lit it and looked around before heading into the office, where he unlocked the drawer that contained all the important files, including all the pending charges he might have for whenever the judge came to town — and at last report his coming was delayed because of a lengthy trial in Blue Tent.

Opening the file, Keiller’s shoulders dropped. He hadn’t filed any charges. Sure the judge wasn’t coming tomorrow or anything, but he couldn’t believe that he’d been sitting around doing nothing for this long and had completely forgotten to file charges against the prisoner, even if he didn’t have her name.

Or had he been meaning to get her name for the charges, and completely neglected to think that he could fill out the forms without her name and add it in later? Keiller had no idea, but he was sorely disappointed in himself, to say the very least.

Of course, not all the charges were his to file, as Old Zach had been the one on whom she’d trespassed — and had also been hit in the face by a door she’d flung open — thus he would need to decide if he was pressing charges, and notify Keiller if he was doing so, which he hadn’t yet done.

Keiller wondered why Old Zach hadn’t come by yet. He knew Old Zach came into town to drink at Martell’s Saloon once a week, and it’d been just more than a week since he’d arrested the prisoner. Surely Old Zach would’ve stopped by.

Unless his griping about Old Zach using the back door had prompted him to not bother. Maybe — once Dr. Carrigan gave him approval to ride again, as even though the sutures had now been removed, Dr. Carrigan had said he didn’t want Keiller riding for at least another week — he’d have to find his way out to Old Zach’s place and ask.

For the time being, though, he ought to get back to bed. As much as he hadn’t filed charges, it wasn’t important enough to do now. 

Ignition: Day 5

Word Count: 30,108

Summary of Events:

Dr. Carrigan came by to check on Keiller and Rebekka's wounds, and despite Keiller's feeling much better, Dr. Carrigan still advised caution, as he was concerned about any damage that might've been suffered internally from Keiller's gunshot wound. Since Keiller didn't accompany Dr. Carrigan as he checked on Rebekka, she willingly confessed to him that she was feeling cold, seeing as her dress had no sleeves, and he told her that he'd ask his wife if she had any spare dresses. Mrs. Carrigan came by later and told Keiller that she wanted to measure Rebekka to know what size of dress Rebekka wore, and Keiller obligingly showed her down to the cell . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Arriving at the cell, Keiller gestured to his prisoner, who was, as usual, looking at him indignantly. Mrs. Carrigan arrived and looked toward the prisoner, an immediate expression of appall coming over her face.

“Why hasn’t she gotten clean clothes?” Mrs. Carrigan asked. “Or a hairbrush? Her hair could be in horrible mats! It’s undignified!”

“I don’t recall it being on my list of duties as Marshal to ensure my prisoners look presentable,” Keiller replied bitterly.

“It needn’t be,” Mrs. Carrigan replied. “It ought to be common sense to afford to others we ourselves enjoy.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Keiller asked. “I didn’t cause her to look like this.”

“Yes you did,” the prisoner spat, startling Keiller. “You took my hair ribbon and bound me up with it.”

“Well if you hadn’t taken my handcuffs I wouldn’t have had to,” Keiller retorted, recovering from his shock at her utterance with the aid of indignation.

“I left them beside you, if you would only have noticed,” the prisoner returned, standing up suddenly.

“If you hadn’t cocked my gun at me, maybe I would’ve felt about my surroundings before confronting the threat and getting shot,” Keiller spat.

“I didn’t mean to shoot you!” the prisoner exclaimed.

“Passing off blame isn’t going to do any good,” Mrs. Carrigan intervened, putting a hand on Keiller’s chest and — despite her being shorter than him — looking at him with the sort of look he could imagine her children having received when they were still under her roof. “The fact of the matter is that things need to be made right.”

As if Keiller wasn’t feeling indignant enough toward the prisoner for her remarks, now Mrs. Carrigan had to go and suggest that things were still his fault? Keiller couldn’t say he appreciated that at all.

He swore at them both and swept past Mrs. Carrigan, stalking to and up the stairs, then to his desk, where he sat down heavily on his chair and seethed. How dare Mrs. Carrigan suggest that he was in the wrong for not giving clean clothes and a hairbrush to a woman who had shot him — and bit him, and thrown a spoon at him that had left a more significant purple bruise than he’d expected — on top of robbing him, even if he had recovered all that she’d stolen, unless he’d had a couple cents more, but he wasn’t really going to worry about that much.

Where was he supposed to find clean clothes for the prisoner anyways? He didn’t have any dresses, nor did Cyril, and he knew for a fact that Mrs. Wharton would rather go about in public completely without clothes than lend even one of her dresses to the prisoner, and he hadn’t really seen anyone else outside of Dr. and Mrs. Carrigan since she’d come into his care.

Additionally, he didn’t have a hairbrush because his hair was short enough he could get away with combing it every morning, and again, Mrs. Wharton wouldn’t go lending her hairbrush any more than her dress.

Ignition: Day 4

Word Count: 24,035

Summary of Events:

Rebekka was brought breakfast by a visibly upset Keiller — which fit with all the arguing she'd heard before he arrived — who asked her the same questions he had the night before, as well as threatening to hurt her if he had to in order to get the answers. Upset, she threw her spoon at him and he left in a huff, leaving her to worry about just what his threat might look like. Keiller was frustrated by the fact that everyone was mad at him for some reason or another, and felt there was nothing he could do with regard to investigating his predecessor's murder while confined to his office; he did, however get a local teen to deliver the Acting Marshal badge to the mayor's house, only to discover that the money he was certain he'd had on his person was gone when he went to pay the teen for his work.

Excerpt of the Day:

Brisk footsteps sounded overhead, heading toward the kitchen. She wished she could tell more of what was going on. All she’d heard was muffled discussion and footsteps all over the place.

Now they sounded down the stairs and Marshal Bartlett appeared, striding over briskly.

“I seem to have misplaced something about seven dollars,” Marshal Bartlett said. “Do I have any reason to believe you might have an idea where it’s gone, considering you pinched my gun and handcuffs?”

She flushed with indignation and mortification. Part of her was upset at him for having been able to figure out she had it — even if she’d forgotten until now — and part of her was uncomfortable with remembering just where she’d gone and put it all.

“It’s either you or Geoffrey,” Marshal Bartlett said. “And I have someone I’d like to pay for helping me who wouldn’t be allowed to just waltz over to the bank and withdraw the money I promised him from my account.”

He had someone else to suspect, and she hoped he suspected that other suspect more than he suspected her, yet, at the same time, was quite terrified that he’d seen her flush and even knew exactly where she was hiding the money.

“And in your case, lying is only going to leave you locked up longer,” Marshal Bartlett added.

It wasn’t like she could do anything with the money, and if she was in jail longer she’d be able to do even less with it. As if she didn’t dislike him enough.

Raising her hand, she turned it so the palm went from facing him, to her.

He gathered his brows in a sceptically confused expression.

“Turn around,” she snapped.

Marshal Bartlett looked a little bemused, but actually obeyed without question, and she couldn’t deny that she was grateful.

Carefully she retrieved the coins from where she’d hidden them, then rose, crossed the floor to where Marshal Bartlett was standing, reached through the bars, and dropped the coins onto the floor.

Marshal Bartlett startled before immediately crouching to pick up the coins, which he counted in his hand once he’d collected them all.

“That’s about what I thought, except that I’m missing a five-dollar bill,” Marshal Bartlett replied, turning around again.

She pulled out the bill easily, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it at him. She’d seen the flush rise on his face as he’d been handling those coins. He knew exactly where she’d been keeping them, and he’d looked almost pleased about it.

With an impressive show of reflexes, Marshal Bartlett reached behind his back and successfully caught the crumpled bill after it made contact with him, and without turning back around or even thanking her for restoring his money to him, he departed.

Scowling after him severely, she chided herself for having kept the money where she had, especially once she’d been locked up here. Now she’d gone and given him incentive to do what he willed with her. 

Ignition: Day 3

Word Count: 18,364

Summary of Events:

Keiller and Dr. Carrigan stopped in the kitchen because Mrs. Wharton — from whom Keiller had rented a room until becoming Marshal — had made some food for him, but nothing for his prisoner, so Keiller sent Dr. Carrigan to deliver the food to her, as he did actually feel slightly nauseous, before going to bed, where he fell asleep faster than he'd expected. Rebekka was feeling quite bored in her cell, as there wasn't even any noise from the floor above to listen to, when Keiller brought her some food, which she ate gladly, although she didn't answer any of his questions, as she suspected he meant to use her answers to send her back from whence she'd come. Frustrated, Keiller went upstairs, where he felt the need to rest before continuing up to the bedroom, so he looked at the papers on his desk to see what he could work on while he was forbidden to leave the building, save for the outhouse . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Cyril’s feet strode up on the boardwalk. Keiller wasn’t sure how he could always hear Cyril coming, as his gait never seemed to be that unique when Keiller watched him walk, but there was something about the way Cyril walked that allowed Keiller to be able to tell whenever he was approaching on the boardwalk.

As a result, Keiller pivoted his chair to face the door before Cyril entered, and immediately his blood rose to a rolling boil, as he saw that the Acting Marshal badge was still pinned to Cyril’s vest.

“Take that off,” Keiller ordered. “You have no right to be wearing it.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Cyril asked.

“My being in bed doesn’t dictate whether you get to wear that thing or not,” Keiller snapped. “Take it off.”

“You do know that Dr. Carrigan’s given you those orders for a reason,” Cyril said.

“That has no relevance to your wearing that badge!” Keiller exclaimed, frustrated at Cyril’s evasiveness — and at the fact that he was feeling drained again somewhat too.

“Your disobeying his orders,” Cyril said. “On one hand, why should I have to obey you if you’re not obeying him? And on the other, can we be sure that your disobeying of Dr. Carrigan’s orders won’t lead to your possibly dying? As I said, he’s given you those orders for a reason, and maybe that reason is to keep you alive so I don’t have to wear this.”

Keiller swore in frustration at Cyril. “I can’t possibly be at any risk of dying, considering where I was wounded.”

“You’re not a doctor, how do you know?” Cyril challenged. “Besides, you’ve looked colourless all day.”
“You are going to take that off,” Keiller said firmly. “And the sooner the better.”

Pushing to his feet, Keiller headed upstairs, seething with frustration almost more at his physical weakness than Cyril’s unwillingness to remove the Acting Marshal badge. He wasn’t as brawny as Cyril, but his leaner figure had never hampered him before, and he also had a visible height advantage over Cyril, but with his strength apparently all having fled out his wounds or something, he didn’t have the ability to use his fists to make Cyril do what he’d been ordered to.

Keiller removed his boots roughly and climbed back under the covers. The sun was still up, and likely to be up for awhile yet, even if it was much lower than it’d been when he’d first climbed into  bed, thus he didn’t undress fully yet, he just needed to rest a bit, and maybe then he’d have the strength to make Cyril do what he’d ordered him to.

If only he could’ve had seniority over Cyril, then he would have more argumentative high ground. Unfortunately, Cyril had been Farley’s deputy longer, and was also five years his senior, giving Cyril age and occupational seniority over Keiller, which always left him wanting in verbal arguments.

Sighing heavily — and wearily — Keiller closed his eyes and was, again, drawn swiftly into slumber.

Ignition: Day 2

Word Count: 12,018

Summary of Events:

Rebekka regained consciousness and found herself draped across a horse shortly before the horse came to a stop outside a building in what was clearly a small town. A man came out from the building and removed her from the horse, revealing himself to be the Deputy Marshal, whom she took an immediate dislike to, as he made it quite clear he was attracted to her, but locked her in a cell anyways. Keiller got up late the following morning, feeling a bit dizzy and sore, but intent to be about the day's work which involved going to get the doctor because his deputy hadn't removed his improvised handcuffs from Rebekka's wrists the day before, and she'd chafed herself to bleeding trying to get free of them. By the time they returned to the office, Keiller was feeling acutely that he'd been shot the day before, but refused to go lie down until Rebekka was tended to . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

The Marshal hung onto the iron bars as he and the other man approached her, and she had to say the Marshal looked nearly as white as the other man’s shirt, which was one of the whitest, cleanest shirts she’d ever seen.

On top of the man’s shirt was a green vest with gold pinstripes, topped by a simple grey suit coat. He was wearing pressed pants that matched the coat, as well as a gold tie, pinned neatly at his throat, and well-shined black shoes, that matched the black medical bag he was carrying.

He was shorter than the Marshal, but not by too much, and the golden hair atop his head faded into silver hairs along the edge of his forehead all the way to his ears, but around the back of his head still looked to be gold.

A matching gold moustache rested on his upper lip and was subtly curled upward on the ends, suggesting a friendly smile, even though his mouth itself wasn’t really curled at all.

Despite the fact that he didn’t have the same hair colour as Papa — nor was he as strongly-built — there was something about this man that made him look like a person she could trust, and she was certain it was more than just the medical bag he carried.

The man — who was clearly a doctor, as no one else carried bags that looked even remotely like the bags doctors carried — set his bag down and looked at her.

Before he could ask her to come she rose to her feet and approached the bars that separated her from the men, and were about all that seemed to be keeping the Marshal off the floor, as his knuckles were the same shade of white as his face from the tightness of his grip on the iron bars.

The gaps in the bars were wide enough that she could reach her hands through, and she did so, presenting the wounds to the doctor for examination.

“Hm,” the doctor said. “It would be better to see if I could wash it.”

Immediately the Marshal turned and made his way with seeming caution and feebleness toward the foot of the stairs.

“Cyril!” he called. “Dr. Carrigan needs warm water. Now!”

She heard feet on the floor overhead as the Marshal carefully made his way back, not letting himself stand without a hand clinging to the bars for long. She felt a little sick as she wondered if the reason the Marshal was so pale and feeble-looking was because of the shot she’d unintentionally fired the night before.

Since he wasn’t dead she felt that he had to be reasonably fine, but, at the same time, since he’d first been here and removed her ribbon, his condition had deteriorated, and she didn’t think it’d really been all that long. There were times when people didn’t die from being shot immediately.

“You don’t need to stay now Marshal,” the doctor said. “You can go lie down.”

“I’m fine,” the Marshal said, his gaze seeming fixed on her hands.

She looked toward the doctor — Dr. Carrigan — and she didn’t get the sense that he believed the Marshal any more than she did.