Five Men
Chapter 1
Jarrod looked at his watch and groaned. It was ten o'clock, and he'd promised to be home by seven. He intended to be, too, but working so hard on a brief for the Court of Appeals made him completely lose track of time. He was at a good breaking point now, though, so he put it aside, strapped on his gunbelt and donned his hat and suit jacket. In a few minutes he was stepping into the street and yawning.
The saloons were all still open and lively. He was giving thought to just stopping at Harry's and having a drink and something to eat when Sheriff Madden came up to him.
"Evening, Fred," Jarrod said.
"You're here kinda late, Jarrod," the sheriff said.
"Yeah, I lost track of time," Jarrod said. "Nothing new, huh?"
"Not for you."
"Things pretty quiet tonight?"
"So far. But if you're thinking of having a drink before you head home, you might want to do it now. Things are beginning to get noisy at all the saloons, and the moon is full."
Jarrod laughed. "You don't really believe things get crazier under a full moon, do you?"
"You'd be surprised how often that seems to be true," the sheriff said. "Maybe it's just because there's more light and men can get into trouble easier, but it does seem to happen."
"I think I'll just head home before the trouble breaks out," Jarrod said. "Good night, Fred."
"Night, Jarrod," the sheriff said and went on his way.
Jarrod crossed the street, heading for the livery stable. In a few minutes he was leading his horse out into the street and preparing to mount up. That's when the shooting broke out.
Jarrod could see it coming from Harry's saloon a couple blocks down the street. Two cowboys came stumbling out, shooting back inside, and then several more men came running out after them, all heading Jarrod's way. Sheriff Madden went running in that direction. Jarrod got his horse to a side alley and tethered him there, then he took a quick look around the corner. The running gun battle had already flattened the sheriff, but his deputy was running up to where he'd fallen. Jarrod drew his gun and stepped out to try to help get some control over things, but it was rapidly becoming too late.
"Stop right there!" Jarrod yelled as the two cowboys who'd first come out of the saloon reached him.
They both turned and fired on him.
Jarrod ducked back into the alley, firing as he did, and one of the cowboys dropped. The other one kept running up the street.
The others who had been chasing the two kept coming. Jarrod had no idea who had started this and didn't know who to go after at this point. But two of the newcomers began to fire at him.
"Stop it!" Jarrod yelled.
Jarrod took a stinging shot to the side of his neck and felt himself slammed up against the nearest building. He fired back and dropped two of the newcomers. The others began to fire at him.
Jarrod fired his last two shots at the men shooting at him, and he dropped two more men who were coming at him.
And then there were only three men left, and they all suddenly dropped their guns and raised their hands. Jarrod slowly climbed up, quickly pressing a handkerchief to his neck wound. He had no idea how bad it was or how much it was bleeding, but as soon as he looked around the street, he completely lost interest in himself. There were seven men lying in the street, eight counting the sheriff. And Jarrod had dropped five of them.
He suddenly felt sick. Whether it was from blood loss or just seeing so many men down in so short a time, he wasn't sure, but he did know he hadn't seen so much carnage so fast since the wars with the railroad. He thought he'd gotten used to it back then, having gone to the real war back east, but now he knew he'd lost that numbness that served him in those days. He didn't like what he saw now at all. He sat down in a chair in front of the closed newspaper office.
"Mr. Barkley? You hit?"
He looked up at one of the saloon girls from Harry's saloon. Jarrod offered a weak smile. "Looks like it. I'm still talking, so it can't be too bad."
The girl gently moved his hand and took the handkerchief away from his neck wound. "I'm gonna get the doctor for you," she said and put the handkerchief back.
Jarrod nodded, but even before she could get away, Dr. Merar was there. "Jarrod? How is it?" he asked and moved the handkerchief away.
"You tell me," Jarrod said.
"It's just a nick," the doctor said. "Missed everything important. You got lucky, but you stay right here until I get back to you, just in case. I think these fools in the street are worse off than you are."
Jarrod nodded and by the street lights and the full moon, he watched Dr. Merar move from one man to another. He finally got to the sheriff, but by then the sheriff was up and limping around with the help of Harry from the saloon. Jarrod saw Dr. Merar direct them to go to his office before he came back Jarrod's way.
"How do things look, Doc?" Jarrod asked.
"Terrible," the doctor said. "How many men did you hit, Jarrod?"
"Five, I think," Jarrod said. "They all went down. You just looked at them."
The doctor sighed. "You killed five, then."
Jarrod was stunned. "What?"
"I got eight men down, only the sheriff is still alive, and I'm assuming you didn't shoot him."
"No," Jarrod said. He began to feel even sicker, and dizzy.
"Let me get you to my office," Dr. Merar said. "You and Sheriff Madden are the only ones I can do anything for."
Jarrod got up and immediately went weak-kneed. The doctor looked for help and someone came and got an arm under Jarrod. The next thing Jarrod knew, he was sitting in the doctor's examination room, having his neck bandaged.
"Feeling better?" Dr. Merar was asking, taping a patch of bandage onto the wound.
Jarrod saw Sheriff Madden up on the table, his pantleg torn up to his knee, his left calf bandaged. "Guess so," Jarrod asked. "Did I pass out?"
"No, just got a bit senseless."
Sheriff Madden sat up. "I can't believe what just happened out there," he said. "I gotta get out there and start asking questions."
"Your deputy can take care of that," Dr. Merar said. "Jarrod, you're in better shape. A couple of your ranch hands are here and are waiting to ride home with you, just to be sure you make it okay. You just have a nick, but you're going to have to doctor it carefully for a few days. It missed the big arteries and veins. No stitches. It's deep enough I want it to heal from the inside out. This is some of that drawing salve I like to use. Use it only if the wound starts looking unhappy."
"Thanks," Jarrod said, taking a small jar from the doctor. "Fred – Doc says I just killed five men."
The sheriff nodded sadly. "Yeah. You did."
Jarrod closed his eyes, his stomach plummeting. He was feeling sick again. "Do we know who they were?"
"Not yet," Sheriff Madden said. "But it doesn't look like any of your men were involved in the fight. Doc, you gotta let me get out there and help sort things out."
Dr. Merar said, "Not yet. You need to get home and stay off that leg for a few days."
Jarrod said, "I'll come by your place tomorrow and give you a statement, Fred. Right now I think we're both better off heading for our beds."
"All right, Jarrod," Sheriff Madden said, but as Jarrod stood slowly up, he said, "Try not to lose any sleep over this. From what I saw where I was sitting on the ground, you did what you had to do."
"I still killed five men," Jarrod said, steadying himself. "I don't like the thought of that, even if I didn't have any choice."
Dr. Merar walked Jarrod out to the waiting room, where Jarrod saw three men from the ranch waiting for him. They looked worried, and relieved to see him walking.
"Is he okay to go home, Doc?" one of the men asked.
Dr. Merar nodded. "Should be. Just keep an eye on him and don't let him fall out of the saddle. The full moon ought to help visibility out there."
One of the other men took Jarrod by the arm to steady him. When they got outside, he saw that someone had fetched his horse for him, and within a minute or so, he was up in the saddle. His head had stopped swimming, and he felt all right to ride home, but he was happy to have the company.