Chapter 3

"Will you represent me, Jarrod?"

Jarrod considered. "Will you let me see if I can plea bargain you out of this?"

"I can't do time. You know what those women in San Quentin are likely to do to me."

Jarrod did know. "It wouldn't be San Quentin. Passing bad money is a federal offense. I'll represent you, if you let me try to get a decent deal for you. If you reject the best deal I can get, we'll have to call it quits, and you and I both keep quiet about the past. That's the deal between you and me."

She looked like she was thinking about it, at least. She finally said, "All right. I have some good money I can pay you with."

"So the sheriff said. But you realize, the federal prosecutor is in Sacramento, not here."

"So I have to sit here until you can talk to him?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How long will it take?"

"I don't know."

She actually started to cry. Jarrod thought that was phony, too, for a moment, but then he realized she might not be faking this. "You know," she said, "I thought when I married Jerome this kind of life was behind me. Six months we had. Only six months."

Jarrod felt for her, genuinely. "When did he die?"

"Not quite a year ago," she said.

It was hard not to sympathize with her, but he kept reminding himself of what she had been up to lately, everything about what happened between her and Nick six years earlier. He realized that being her attorney was going to leave him with all those complications. He hardened back into the lawyer – at least, almost. "Let me see if I can pull any strings, Carol."

She wiped her eyes. "I don't want to see Nick," she said quietly. "He won't want to see me."

"I'll have to tell him you're here. Let's see what I can do before we worry about Nick. I'll wire the federal prosecutor in Sacramento. I know him. He's the one I'd have to strike a deal with. But even getting through to him, and him getting something on this case – that's gonna take some time, maybe a few days."

"I understand," she said.

"And you won't be getting the memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant back."

She actually chuckled a little about that. "Nobody was buying them anyway."

"And you're going to have to change your ways, or you're going to be right back in trouble. And I won't represent you again."

She nodded. "Whatever you say."

Jarrod left the cell block, and he had a couple words with Sheriff Harris about the memoirs he was holding. "These have to be fake," the sheriff said.

"I'm sure they are," Jarrod said. "I was just wondering if you knew anything about them."

The sheriff handed them back. "Not a thing."

Jarrod took them but didn't say anything about them. As far as he was concerned, the fact that they were connected to his client was a confidential matter. Instead, he said, "I'll be representing her. I'll wire the federal prosecutor in Sacramento and try to get this case started."

"All right," the sheriff said. "Good luck with that. I have a feeling this lady is no stranger to shady situations and she might be right back in jail somewhere even if you get her out of this charge."

Jarrod nodded. Sheriff Harris was new in the job, replacing Sheriff Lyman who was killed in the fight at the Sample place. Harris was not the sheriff when Nick was involved with Carol Keenan, now Carol Bernard, and he obviously did not know anything about the last time Carol was in Stockton. Jarrod was not inclined to fill him in. Explaining everything would have taken most of the morning, and Jarrod had a few things he had to get done.

First, he wired his Pinkerton contact in San Francisco. He had to know what they had or could get on Carol Keenan Bernard, because he never did trust her completely. If she was in deeper on something other than this charge of passing bad money, he had to know and fairly quickly. Next, he wired the federal prosecutor in Sacramento, a man named James Markle. They had gone to law school together and knew each other, but didn't stay in close touch. Their careers had taken them in different directions. Still, Jarrod hoped he could get Markle started on this case so they could dispose of it quickly. Jarrod didn't like leaving a woman in jail, even Carol.

He had a few other things to get off his desk, too, but it didn't take very long. He headed back to the ranch a lot earlier than he had planned to, deciding to ride out to where Nick was tending herd and to talk to him there. He wanted to tell Nick about Carol in broad daylight, and nowhere near the whiskey.

He had to tell Nick that Carol was back in Stockton. If he didn't tell him, Nick would lay him out of the floor for that, when he found out. And if Nick found out everything that happened the last time Carol was here - Jarrod was beginning to think there was no way he was going to avoid his younger brother's considerable temper in this. He may as well just get used to the idea he was going to sport a nasty bruise before all this was over. By the time he found the herd and spotted Nick and Heath with it, he was grumbling, telling himself he was an idiot for taking the case, wondering if he should just turn around, go back to town and resign. If he were being smart, he'd do that.

But then he knew why he didn't do it. It wasn't only because of the way it all ended when Carol left town the last time and what she had on him. It was because she had lost a husband she loved after only a brief marriage. It was because she was roaming the countryside alone, playing poker and selling fake documents – and maybe more, despite what she said – just to get by. Despite everything that happened before, despite everything that was happening now, Carol was a woman alone who needed legal help.

And Jarrod knew he had enough ego to believe he could juggle it all and make this come out right, even if he had to take a punch or two from his brother in the meantime.

Nick and Heath both came riding toward him. Jarrod never appeared out on the range in a business suit unless something urgent had happened. "What's up?" Nick asked right away.

"We need to talk," Jarrod said. It was hard to be heard above the lowing of the cattle. Jarrod nodded toward the chuck wagon and rode over to it.

Nick and Heath met him there, all of them dismounting. "Is something wrong?" Nick asked right away.

Jarrod gave a glance at Heath, who hadn't been around when Carol was last here and probably knew nothing about her, but he said to Nick, "The person who lost the stuff Heath found is in jail in Stockton on a charge of passing bad money."

"Yeah?" Nick said. "So?"

"It's Carol Keenan, Nick."

Nick straightened up like he was ready to throw a punch just at the mention of her name.

Jarrod stood his ground. "She asked me to represent her."

Nick looked like he was winding up, but still didn't throw the punch. "Do I have to ask what you said?"

Jarrod still stood his ground. "Probably not."

Nick turned, got back on his horse and rode back to work.

Heath looked confused, interested. "Who's this Carol Keenan?"

"I think Nick better tell you that, Heath," Jarrod said. "Let's just say she's not one of Nick's favorite people."

"Jarrod, if it's something that really gets to Nick, why in the world did you take the case?"

"That's part of a long story. I'll talk to the family more about it tonight."

Heath whistled. "Jarrod, I don't know much about this, but I can tell you're asking for a fist in your face. You shouldn't have taken her case."

"Maybe not," Jarrod said. "At any rate, I want Nick to have first crack at talking to you. I'll talk to everyone tonight about it, and we'll see where it goes. If he wants to slug me, I'll probably just have to let him."

Heath made an unhappy face, then climbed back on his horse and rode off to where Nick had gone. Jarrod remounted too and headed for home.