Part Six

Cliff Hyatt stood there for a moment, waiting for the deputy to go back into the office. His younger brother, Cass, lounged on the bunk on the other side of the bars, smirking at him.

"You tangle with a bobcat, boy?" Cass asked when they were alone.

Cliff rubbed his bruised jaw. "Jarrod Barkley came looking for you. Right after you left."

"Right after you threw me out," Cass said, but he was still smirking.

"I was afraid he'd kill you, wild as he was to get at you. I didn't know he'd be like that."

The smirk turned into a chuckle. "He about did kill me. Tried to drown me in that horse trough in front of the saloon."

"Doesn't sound like something to crow over."

"You don't get it, boy. He's under arrest the same as me." Cass nodded toward the wall. "He's been my next-door neighbor since then."

Cliff looked at the cell on the other side of the wall and found it empty.

"They took him over to the doc's," Cass explained.

"You got him first then." Cliff was surprised. Not surprised that Cass would try to kill Barkley— again, he supposed— but that Cass would best him in a fight.

"Didn't have to. Barkley fixed things for me. They're gonna have to let me go. Just like they did in Stockton. It's Barkley who's gonna hang, didn't you hear?"

"Cass—"

"He shot his own brother."

"No."

"Boy's over at the doc's dying right now. Barkley was determined to kill me, and his brother tried to stop him. Got right in his way."

"Cass, listen to me."

" Got a bellyful of lead for his trouble, too. Barkley'll hang for the killing, and I'll be free to watch it. Even an old maid like you ought to appreciate the humor in that."

"Cass, some men came by my place yesterday."

Cass still smirked. "Neighborly of 'em."

"A sheriff and some of his deputies."

Cass clicked his tongue. "Now just what have you been up to, boy?"

"They were from up at French Camp. They caught Jimmy Simms."

Cass sat up, eyes wide. He wasn't smirking anymore. "Jimmy—"

"That horse you had him take up there for you was one he stole. He'll swear to it in court. They won't hang him if he testifies against you, and he's sure testifying. They have proof now you rode that horse down from the camp and killed Barkley's wife."

"No." Cass shook his head wildly. "They only know Jimmy says I had him leave one up there for me. No proof I ever took it. No proof I ever saw it."

"What'd you ride into town, Cass?"

Cass swallowed hard.

Cliff swore. "Why didn't you at least get rid of it?"

"I— I couldn't! Barkley was after me every second."

Cliff paced for a minute. "I guess the sheriff has your horse now. If that horse has the Circle W brand like the ones Jimmy stole, they'll know. They'll know for sure."

"You gotta get it back." Cass came to the bars, reaching out to grab his brother's arm. "You gotta get that horse back. Get rid of it."

"How do I do that? If I even ask where that horse is, the sheriff'll know. He'll know it's the one they're looking for."

"But nobody's been here. Not yet. The sheriff doesn't know about Jimmy. He'd've questioned me if he did."

Cliff considered for a moment. "Yeah, I guess that's likely. I told those men I didn't know where you were, likely somewhere west from what you'd said. They took off that way. It's gonna take them a while to trace you back here. But I knew you were headed south."

Barkley had beaten him into the admission, and Cliff wasn't all that proud of it, but he'd thought being honest and reasonable would have counted for something with a man like that, an attorney and all. Obviously not. Not now.

"You gotta get me out, Cliff." Cass's fingers twisted into his sleeve. "They'll hang me. They'll hang me!"

Cliff only looked at him.

"This is all a mistake, I tell you. Okay, so Jimmy got me a horse. That was all, I swear. I didn't kill that—"

"Don't lie to me, Cass. For once in your miserable life, don't lie!"

"Okay, okay, I did. I shot her." Cass's lips pulled back in a terrified grin. "I shot her, but I didn't mean to. I never meant that. I was going for him. You can't let them hang me for a mistake, Cliff. You can't."

"You got yourself in here," Cliff said, throwing off his hand. "No fault of mine."

"You promised," Cass begged. "You promised Ma you'd look after me."

"Looks like I did a pretty sorry job of it."

"No, Cliff, listen. Listen to me! You have to get me out of here. Before those men get here and tell the sheriff about Jimmy. You have to!"

If those bars hadn't been between them, Cliff might have knocked his brother to his knees.

"Are you asking me to bust you out? Don't be a fool! I've never crossed the law, and you know that."

"Didn't seem to make much difference to Barkley, did it?" Cass was wheedling now. "He'd have killed you if you got in his way. He'd kill me if he could. He might still. All right, I made a mistake. A mistake! Are you gonna let them hang me for that?"

"I won't do it," Cliff hissed, glancing toward the locked door that led back to the sheriff's office. "I'd be running the rest of my life."

"And I won't have a life! Is that what you want?"

"I can't help you, Cass! What do you want me to do? Blast my way in here and bust you out and shoot anybody who gets in my way?"

"No." Cass laughed again, and this time the laugh was breathless and shaky. "No, no, just let me think. You wouldn't object to buying a horse, would you?"

"I have a horse."

"But you could buy another one, right?"

What was Cass up to now?

"I guess," Cliff admitted. "What for?"

"You could get it from one of the ranches. Not in town. And maybe keep him back of somewhere where nobody'd notice."

Cliff looked at him warily.

"And you could buy another one, too," Cass said. "From the livery this time. Tie him up with yours, right?"

"Cass, I don't know."

"What's wrong with that? Buying horses isn't illegal."

"No, but—"

"All right then. And you could go buy some supplies. I don't know, flour and corn meal, canned goods, I don't care. About a hundred and sixty or seventy pounds worth. You could do that."

Cliff snorted. "Where am I gonna get that kind of money?"

"You still got your watch."

Cliff's mouth dropped open. "That's Pa's watch. You can't mean for me to sell that."

"You don't think Pa would sell it, if it meant me not hanging?" There was an infuriating smugness on Cass' face.

"Just what are you thinking?" Cliff demanded.

"I'm thinking when it gets around eleven o'clock tonight, you could pack all those supplies on that livery horse and head back home as fast as you can ride. That's all."

"That's all?"

"Nothing to it," Cass said, his smirk finally returning. "And nothing illegal."

Cliff hesitated. There had to be something about this whole thing that was eventually going to blow up in his face. "What are you gonna do?"

Cass leaned close to his brother's ear. "I'm gonna get out of here and hightail it to Mexico. Just do this for me. Nothing illegal. Do it, and I swear I'll go for good."

Cliff looked at him for a long time, and then he finally nodded.

Cass's smirk turned into an honest-to-goodness grin. "Oh, and when you come see me 'round suppertime, I'd like to see you spruced up a little." He tugged his brother's collar, straightening it. "Can't rightly go calling if you're not spruced up."

Cliff frowned, more puzzled than ever.

"You know," Cass added, "when you're tying down all those supplies, you ought to cut about two foot off that cord you use and tie it around the crown of your hat. Saw a fellow the other day with his hat prettied up like that. Just a little something. Not ostentatious, as they say. Thought it would look good on you."

Dread lay leaden in Cliff's stomach. "No. I tell you, Cass, I won't do it. I won't do it!"

"Do what, boy? Nothing illegal about sprucing up a hat, is there? And I don't want anything else from you. Not a thing. What harm could it do? I mean, it's not too much to ask to keep your little brother from swinging, is it?"

Cliff swore again. "No killing, Cass. I mean it. No killing."

"You help me get out of here, and you won't have to worry about that. Now you go on. That deputy'll be in here before long."

Right on cue, there was the clank of the key in the door back to the office.

That dread in Cliff's stomach rose up into his throat. "This is the last, Cass. I mean it."

"That's your five minutes," the deputy said, and Cliff went to the door.

"See you 'round suppertime," Cass called to him. And he still smirked.

OOOOO

"He'll sleep a little while now," Dr. Saxton said.

Jarrod was slumped sideways in the ladder-back chair at Nick's bedside, a nearly empty cup in his limp hand. The doctor had coaxed him into taking something for his headache, and it wasn't until Jarrod had swallowed down most of the drink that he'd realized there was laudanum in it.

"Should we lay him down somewhere?" Heath asked, looking at his oldest brother's slack, haggard face, wondering if this was the first sleep he'd had since Beth was killed.

"Better leave him," the doctor advised. "I didn't give him much, just enough to put him under. Maybe after that his own exhaustion will take over and he'll get some natural sleep."

Heath laid one hand on the disheveled dark hair. "I hope so."

"You ought to get some rest, too, young man," the doctor said.

"I'm all right," Heath told him, glancing from Jarrod to Nick. "One of them might need something."

"You'd better have some more of this then," the doctor's wife said, coming in with the coffee pot. "If you're planning to stay up all night."

Heath managed a bit of a sheepish smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

He picked up the cup he had left on the windowsill and let her fill it for him. Then he sat on the side of the bed and studied Nick's still face, searching for any sign that he was improving, any sign that he might come around at least for a minute or two. There was nothing.

"We're going to have to be patient," the doctor said and not for the first time. "Sleep's the best thing for both of them. I know it doesn't seem like much, but for your middle brother there, the longer he holds out, the better his chances are. I expect he doesn't have the wherewithal to stay alive and talk to you, too."

"But does he seem any better, doc?"

"I couldn't say better," the doctor admitted. "But I wouldn't say worse either. I'd say he's holding on, and given the whole situation, I suppose that's a bit of a miracle in itself." He patted Heath's shoulder. "We have to just keep trying to cool him down and give him all the water he'll take. Morning comes and he's still with us, it may be he'll be all right."

Heath put down his coffee cup, picked up the wet cloth on the table by the bed, and pressed it against Nick's wrist. Wrists, forehead, throat, that's where the doctor had said the coolness would help most. Heath wished they were at home and he could get a chunk of the ice that would be in the icebox right now. And Silas could coax Jarrod into lying down in his own bed. And Mother—

Heath shook his head. No use thinking of home at this point. He had to keep his mind on here and now. Home would have to wait.

He pressed the cloth to Nick's forehead, and Nick drew a sudden quick breath. Heath froze where he was, and the doctor came quickly to stand beside him, but then Nick merely exhaled and the quiet rhythm of his breathing continued. The doctor smiled, gently, regretfully.

"Patience," he said, and then he and Heath both looked toward the front door.

Someone was knocking rapidly, and the doctor's wife was hurrying to answer. She let in the Mexican boy from the general store.

"Señora, please," the boy said. "The doctor must come at once. I was sent to tell you there was a fire at the Macon ranch. The fire is out, but there are many who are hurt. Please, he must come at once."

The doctor hurried to the door. "How do you know this, Mateo?"

"A man came from there. He sent me to tell you so he could go back and help."

"All right," the doctor said. "We'll be right along. You go on back home."

When the boy was gone, the doctor went out to harness his horse while his wife packed up supplies to treat the injured. Heath held the lantern for her and helped her into the buggy.

"There's nothing I can do for your brothers that you can't do," the doctor told him. "It's about fifteen miles out to the Macon place, so we might be a while. We'll be back as soon as we can, but until then, just carry on."

Heath nodded and watched them drive away. It was a little bit of a comfort when Sheriff Fain came into the doctor's office about half an hour later. That comfort didn't last long.

"Mr. Barkley," the man said, his face harsh and grim. "Hyatt's escaped."