Chapter 7

Jarrod looked at his younger brother for a moment, well aware of what he'd been offered, and knowing he'd get all the help he needed.

Okay, Jarrod, you have what you wanted. You have their full support. Now, what are you going to do with it? What is your plan? How exactly do you plan to see justice accomplished and protect everyone involved? Is it even possible?

"Well, Nick, I have to admit that I can't say I have a fully-thought-out plan … or that such a thing is possible even. But, I need to talk with Thomson, and I need to do that without arousing anyone's suspicions. Not sure how, so I'm guessing the place to start is with Sawyer.

"I had Maureen start on that piece before I left the city … ensuring the means to move ahead was in place should it be so decided. She'll use the usual means of providing sensitive information. Letter might already be there."

It was a provision they had established long ago when Jarrod needed to communicate with his San Francisco office without anyone suspecting he was doing so. Maureen would send a letter to McNally … to Mr. McNally, rather than to Michael McNally. Anything going the other way would be addressed to Maureen McNally, in her brother's hand.

"If she's managed what I'd intended, it should provide a safe means for a meeting with the marshal. So, in answer to your question, we start with a trip to Stockton tomorrow. I'd rather not send someone for the mail. The fewer people involved, the better."

"Fine. It seems there's nothing we can do tonight, so I'd be happy to beat you in a few games of pool. Lighten your wallet. Make the trip to town easier on your horse."

A tip of his head, and a sweeping palm, invited his brother to accept. Jarrod did so.

By morning, they had decided that Jarrod would make the trip for the mail. He could stop in at his office first, and then collect the mail before heading home. For anyone keeping watch, neither would seem out-of-the-ordinary actions.

As he made a casual perusal of the mail he'd been handed, he wasn't sure if he was hoping for, or against, seeing the expected letter. Hopes notwithstanding, it was there. He forced himself to ignore it, to withdraw something addressed to himself, something of little consequence, and slowly, deliberately open the envelope, and then appear to give the contents careful scrutiny and consideration. It would give him a reasonable excuse to return to the office, read the letter of concern, and take whatever actions needed, before heading home.

Back in the office, he read and reread the contents. Sawyer was coming here, supposedly on business with the local law enforcement. All he needed was a ruse to be in Harry's office at the same time as Sawyer. No doubt Nick could help with that. Unless advised differently, Sawyer would be there, day after tomorrow.

What to do with the letter? Did he keep it, did he destroy it. And what of future communications? For now, he opted to save it … but not here. It, and subsequent pieces, would go in the safe at the ranch. Not knowing what might happen as the plan unfolded, it was impossible to determine what, at a later date, might prove to be valuable evidence.

By that evening, he and Nick had a plan. Nick just had to get himself arrested. Jarrod would show up to bail him out. While Jarrod had no doubts Nick could carry out his part without a hitch, he was somewhat alarmed, and to no small degree dismayed, at how enthusiastic his brother had been. He held the uneasy sense of having given a child permission to raid the cookie jar.

Two days later, as expected, Nick indeed did his part. Jarrod heard the voices in his outer office, and went to investigate. Harry's deputy stood there, hat in hand, trying to explain what had happened. The lawyer interrupted.

"Is there a problem? Is this something that needs my attention?"

"Well, yes, Mr. Barkley. You see, it's Nick … Nick Barkley … your brother, Nick. He's asked … well, more like … demanded … that someone get you to bail him out. Sheriff sent me … to ask you … that is. Nick's in jail …." He tapered off, not knowing how else to explain the situation, and not wanting to think he'd be held responsible for this man's brother being arrested … again.

"Thank you, Billy. You can tell Harry that I'll be along momentarily. Just have to finish up what I was working on. I'm sure Nick's in no danger where he is. Will do him no harm to have time to cool down."

Normally, he'd let Nick cool his heels for a bit. Harry knew that, and Billy knew it too. He had to be sure his actions matched the norm, even if not what he really wanted to do. He was quite certain Sawyer would stay put until he got there.

Three-quarters of an hour later he was proven correct. As he stepped into the sheriff's office, and firmly closed the door behind him, he saw Frank, against the far wall, in a chair balanced on two legs. Billy was nowhere to be seen.

Seeing him look around, Harry offered, "Nick's in the back. No one else here … as per the marshal's request." He nodded, with more than an obvious touch of respect, towards Sawyer.

Throwing Jarrod the keys, he added, "You can go on back. Close the door if you wish. Frank has assured me, that at least for now, the less I know the better … or at least, the safer. I'll get busy on the paperwork for bailing out Nick."

Jarrod nodded, a couple of times, and then headed for the back. He'd not taken more than three steps before Frank was beside him.

He was sorry, and if he was honest with himself, not surprised, to see Nick sporting the physical evidence of whatever tangle he'd gotten into. While he doubted he was hurting all that much, he knew that wouldn't be the case once Mother had at him with her liniment bottle.

Might as well get this underway. It only took a certain amount of time to bail someone out of jail … even if the sheriff already was occupied with another matter. He started to talk as he moved to open the cell door, and free his brother.

"Good to see you again, Frank. I'd like you to meet my younger brother, Nick." The shaking of hands was mingled with mutterings of greeting.

"I've read all the material you provided, and I have to agree with you. Justice does not appear to have been served. However, before we go further, I realize we have to deal with the matter of my fee."

Seeing Frank about to interrupt, he waved him down. "Let me finish. If I win this case, I will accept my usual fee, at the end. If that is not acceptable, I will negotiate something that is. If that is not going to be agreeable to your Mr. Thomson, then we need to call a halt to this now."

He gave Sawyer a moment to consider. "Well, Jarrod, it's agreeable … more than agreeable … to me. Heath may be harder to convince, but that's my problem. I'll convince him. Won't be that hard to do. He wants this to happen. If he has to swallow some of his pride to accomplish that, he'll do so."

Jarrod gave a brief nod. "Fair enough. You may be wondering why I arranged this meeting in this way … and thank you for cooperating without knowing why. I took the liberty of having someone I trust with my life, investigate Greenley … thoroughly and discretely.

"What I've learned is that he's a dangerous … very dangerous … man. If we proceed with this matter, a number of lives could be at risk … yours included. Certainly mine and Mr. Thomson's. Perhaps my family. And yes, before you ask, they are aware and have thrown their full support behind the effort.

"We hope to minimize the risk, to whatever degree possible. That effort starts by assuming we are being watched, and making sure our actions arouse no suspicions. Any contact between us, must be seen as accidental, unavoidable, inconsequential.

"I need to meet with your friend, and I need your knowledge of him—including where he is at present—to devise a means of doing so without incurring said risk. Any ideas?"

Jarrod's long ago assessment, that Marshal Sawyer was no fool, had been correct. When he'd received the communication via Miss McNally, Frank suspected something like this. Furthermore, he suspected Barkley would be looking for a surreptitious way to meet with Heath. He's put considerable thought into it. His plan would hinge on the brother.

"When you say your family has given their full support to this, do you mean actively?"

Nick's eyes darted between the two, and his face took on that serious, granite, look it could get, when he suspected there was more to something than openly was apparent … like to Sawyer's question.

"What are you asking, Marshal? I'm not much for beating around the bush … like the counselor here. Just spit it out."

"Okay, Mr. Barkley. My plan involves you."

He waited for a sign to continue. There was no point in doing so, if the family wasn't prepared to play an active role.

He got a nod, accompanied by, "It's Nick."

"Heath's holed up in an area not too far from Ucroft's place. The man who was murdered. He's trying to support himself—and his mother—by catching, training, and selling wild horses. He's—"

Nick cut him off. "Why doesn't he just get a job on another spread?"

Frank snorted. "Well, Nick, if I'm looking to hire a deputy, I'd be a mite leery of taking on someone who was once a Marshal. If you ask your brother here if he'd he comfortable hiring a qualified lawyer to be his law clerk, I'm guessing he'd have the same reservations. And I suspect, if you were looking to hire hands, you'd be equally hesitant towards someone who'd worked as a foreman."

He gave them both some time to savor the thought. When he saw the gleam of recognition in their eyes, he continued. "Heath was Ucroft's foreman … very capable, and very respected, in that position. Every ranch for miles around, knows that. None of them are in need of a foreman … none of them want to hire him as a hand.

"I'd give him a job in a minute, but he made it clear when he left that it was no longer work he wanted. I think his Mama may have had a part in that. No matter, my offer'd be refused. So, he's doing what he can. And, he's still looking for a way to get justice. Therefore, he's not interested in putting too much distance between himself and where it happened.

"I figure we need to find a reason for him to come here, where he can have unplanned contact with Jarrod. And that's where you come in, Nick. You got any need for, say, a couple of well-trained, good-looking, mares? Can you be at the next horse auction in Modesto? It's next week. I can make sure Heath has his horses there. If you buy a couple, and make him a good offer to deliver them, it'll bring him here.

"Won't even look suspicious. He comes through here a few times a year, on his way to visit his mama. He's about due.

"If you really don't want the animals, I can guarantee you that Heath will take them back … and return every penny you paid. Probably offer to pay you for your trouble as well. That boy will not take charity … or anything that even hints at it."

With a tone of wonder, Nick asked, "When you say he's holed up, what exactly do you mean?"

"He's found a spot—more like a small clearing among one of the treed areas—lots of land in that area that no one owns. He's set up camp there. I think, as usual, his horses have better feed and accommodations than him. He cut enough trees to build a couple of small corrals. Has enough grazing to keep them fed, and a nearby stream that provides water.

Heath is pretty resourceful. I suspect he's living on fish and rabbits, and whatever he can gather. That boy can make more of a meal out of just about nothing, than anyone I've ever met. Kept my belly full more than once, when we ended up chasing some outlaw a fair piece further than we'd planned."

Nick looked thoughtful … glanced at Jarrod … nodded a couple of times. "Well, don't see why your plan can't work. Nobody is going to wonder if I show up at a horse auction … or if I pay someone to deliver whatever I buy. Always on the lookout for decent horses. Sounds like this might be a good deal for me.

"Okay, Big Brother, time to earn your keep. Get me out of this place. I've got work to do."

"I know, Brother Nick … it's a working ranch."

Nick turned for a moment before opening the door. "How will I know this Heath fellow? What's he look like?"

"A tad shorter than you. Blond hair, blue eyes. I'd lay money he'll have the best horseflesh at the auction. Look for that, you'll find him."

Jarrod cocked his head, raised an eyebrow, and then signaled, with a shift of his shoulder, that it was time to move on.