Doyle Moriarty (noschoolmarm) wrote in oregonal_sin, @ 2009-12-07 21:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | [complete], doyle moriarty, harry charleston |
[Open]
Doyle had thought he was doing quite well, in all honesty. When he'd left the tavern and Ryan last, he'd expected there only to be a few more days before he could start classes again.
Then the fever had come back, laying the school teacher flat out. It raged for a week, leaving Doyle weakened with disjointed, half remembered fever dreams of fire and loss. He knew at least one and probably several had revolved around the cathouse and Ryan in particular. He only hoped he hadn't said anything that could have been misconstrued.
Today was the first day he was well enough to be out of bed, though his housekeeper fussed and wouldn't allow him to go far. It was just as well as his porch was about as far as his legs would carry him. So there he sat, blankets bundled around his thin frame, hands folded around a steaming cup of tea and watching the town as they passed. He nodded as someone approached, smiling slightly. "Good day," he said, voice raspy.