Chapter 7

John and Socrates made the train and they found themselves in San Francisco the next morning. Both men felt as if they had no time to waste, so Socrates contacted some of his legal connections to get them an audience with a judge. Any judge who had authority to grant ownership to John Barry would do. Neither of them expected to get an appointment late that morning with one of the most respected jurists in the state, the Honorable Roswell Greene. Within ten minutes of presenting his evidence, the gavel fell in favor of John and his family. A writ would be produced and ready in the afternoon, so the men had time to take care of other business.

Socrates walked with John along Market Street looking for a place to eat lunch. His eyes scanned the shop windows in a casual manner, not really thinking about what was in them. A display caught his eye, and he stopped and stared at it.

"What is it, Socrates?" John stopped a few steps ahead and returned to his side. "A music store." He smiled. "You said you were looking for one of these."

"Yes, but do they have this flute? And at what price?"

"You'll never know until you go inside." John's eyes flitted over the guitars, a cello, violin, French horn, and a few other instruments on display. He turned toward the door. "Let's go see what's in stock!"

Inside, the shop smelled like wood oil and paper. Racks of sheet music stood along the left wall, and the instruments were neatly arranged throughout the rest of the store. A woman dressed in the height of fashion stood behind the counter working on a ledger, but when she heard the bell tinkle to announce their arrival, she looked up and smiled.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen! Is there something that you're looking for, or just browsing?"

Socrates got a big grin on his face as he stepped forward and pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket. "Yes. I'm looking for this model of flute."

The woman took the paper and read the number off it. "I see. This model is no longer being made, and we sold our last one months ago. However, there is another model that's replacing it. I can show you that one." She came around the counter and led them to a wall where several flutes lay on narrow shelves. She picked up a silver flute and presented it to Socrates. "Feel free to try it."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. This is a gift for a friend." He shook his head. "I don't know how to play."

"Well, you're in luck." She smiled sweetly. "I do." She tested the tuning and quickly launched into a popular tune. The sound was rich, smooth, and airy, and it seemed to take off into flight around them. She pulled the instrument away from her full lips, caught her breath, and said, "This is one of my favorites. It's not even the most expensive model." She set it back on the shelf and moved to a black flute with silver accents and keys. "This model is almost one hundred dollars. It's a concert flute, but I don't think it sounds nearly as nice." She demonstrated it, playing the same tune, then returned it to the shelf. "I suppose if your friend is playing in a concert hall..."

"No, the closest she'll most likely get is a parlor, I'm afraid," Socrates answered with a wide smile. "I believe the one she was interested in is silver."

"It's actually a nickel plating. If you want real silver, that will cost a pretty penny." She smiled at her wit. Seeing the serious expression on Socrates' face, she sobered. "I would highly recommend this model. It's priced between the two and has a very nice sound for use in a parlor." In the end Socrates decided to buy the one most like what Louisa wanted. The saleswoman convinced him to also purchase the case and cleaning supplies, and he left the shop with his billfold nearly twenty five dollars lighter.

Socrates couldn't have cared if he spent twenty five or twenty five hundred dollars. His hand grasped the small case like it was a lifeline and he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

"You really like Louisa, don't you," John said as the men continued on their way to find a restaurant that wasn't too busy, because they were very hungry by this time.

It took Socrates a moment to answer, but not because he had to decide on his reply. His head was in the clouds with joy. "John, you have no idea. Louisa is the sweetest, most intelligent woman I've ever met. She has a passion for doing something that makes a difference. When she took on the teaching position, it was just something to do because single women don't have a lot of options. Then she really got into it, and now every day is a challenge for her and her students to grow."

"She does have something special about her," John agreed. "When I first ran into her, quite literally, I was stunned. It wasn't just her exterior beauty. She just glowed with life, I guess."

Socrates turned his head toward John. "Are you saying you like her too?"

"Well," John began with a growing smile. "If I asked her out and she said yes, I certainly wouldn't be disappointed."

"But you can't!" Socrates exclaimed with a frown. "She and I..."

"Yes?" John cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, we, um, I..." He gave up. His shoulders sagged and his features took on a tortured expression. "John, I don't just like Louisa. I love her. I just haven't found a really good way to show her yet." He glanced down at the instrument case, held it up and patted it. "I'm hoping this will do the trick."

"I see." John nodded. "Good luck, Soc. If she turns you down, don't be surprised if I come calling."

The older man surprised Socrates. He hadn't expected such interest. For the past month he'd been a big fish in a little pond and Socrates thought, no, he assumed, that he was Louisa's only prospect. It made him comfortable, and now, knowing that he had a possible rival, his gut clenched. If he had any hope of being with Louisa, he needed to stop dilly dallying around.

"Don't worry, Soc. You had first dibs on her. Just wanted to let you know that if she wasn't interested, I'll be taking my shot."

Socrates also didn't expect the man to play fair and let him have the first chance. "Thank you, John. I appreciate that."

"No problem." John clapped a hand on his shoulder. "It's the least I could do after you helped me. I mean, what are friends for?"

While Socrates and John completed their mission, Bowler and Brisco rode the ten miles to the Sutton property. Correction, Jacobs' property. All the way Bowler ruminated over the evidence. No court in the state would allow Sutton to keep the land. Knowing that the man stole it, no matter what kind of debt was owed, and on top of it tampered with a train and caused the death of his fiancee, Bowler's anger simmered beneath his skin. Despite the cold temperatures, he sweated under his coat and wraps. Now and then Brisco glanced at him, reading the hard expression on his face as more than intense concentration. They'd been friends and partners a long time now. There was no hiding from the sheriff what was on his mind.

"Are you okay, Bowler?"

"I'm fine."

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to take you on this trip. If you let your emotions rule over your head, you might do something you'll regret."

Bowler's eyes locked on Brisco's, and the big man's were dark and stormy. "Don't worry about me, Brisco. I know what to do. I just hope he don't have reinforcements. We shoulda brought a posse."

Brisco stared at him in disbelief. "What? I've never heard that word come out of you before in that context. Why now?"

"This man is a cold, hard killer. You're a man with a wife and baby on the way. Don't need no unhappy ending here."

"I'm touched that you're worried about me, but don't. I know what I'm doing." He pushed his coat back and pulled on his shirttail to reveal something under his clothing. "When I went home, Dixie begged me to put this on."

"What is it?"

A sly smile set upon Brisco's lips. "Remember when we used those shovels as armor to prevent ourselves from being shot to death?"

"Yeah? That was the craziest idea you ever had, but I gotta say, it sure saved our lives!"

"Uh huh. Well, this is a twenty-first century version. It's called body armor, a bulletproof vest. Cal and I were wearing them when we came back here, and I've hung onto it but never really felt comfortable wearing it in this time."

"You got one of them for me?"

Brisco stopped Comet. "I brought Cal's along. He has a longer torso than me, but I don't know if it'll fit you." He stopped pulling it out from his saddlebag and looked up at Bowler with concern. "You're feeling that uneasy about this, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm thinkin' maybe we should wait until Socrates and Barry get back with somethin' legal in their hands, and then we go in with enough men to make a bulletproof vest unnecessary."

"You still don't believe John's story."

"I'm getting' there, but havin' something in writing would help me feel a whole lot better about it."

Brisco sighed. He shoved the vest back into the saddlebag. "Okay, fine. We're this far, let's just do some surveillance so we know what we're up against. Maybe we'll even knock on the door and say hello." Then Brisco did something that Bowler would never have expected. He unhooked his tin star and tucked it away in an obscure pocket in his coat.

"He may already know you're the sheriff."

"If not, I won't tell if you won't." The sly smile returned.

"Heh heh heh, that's one of the things I like about you, Brisco. You can be a real sneaky one." He made a kissing noise and his mount moved forward. Brisco set Comet into motion and the two rode side by side up to the small two-story home that sat on the property.

Wash hung on the line nearby, frozen stiff in the cold, and a barn stood off to the right with a small corral. Two horses stood in it munching on hay. To the left were wide open fields with cattle roaming. Whether any of the heads belonged to John's uncle or not was anyone's guess. A woman came out of the house. She was plump and healthy looking, her hair forced back into a severe bun which made her look tortured. Her brows knit at the sight of strangers and she took a step back.

"Dwight! We got company!"

"Outta my way, Dora!" Dwight pushed her like he would a heiffer that was in his way.

She stumbled, got her footing, and gave him an evil look before going to the lines to remove the clothing. Dwight had no clue that she shot daggers at him with her eyes.

He stood on his doorstep, pulled on his waistband and rearranged his suspenders as he looked up at the two men. He squinted as he examined them. "Don't know you two. You new around here?"

"Indeed. My name is... Roscoe Merriwether," Brisco responded and jerked a thumb at Bowler. "This here's my friend Dexter. Just Dexter."

"Mr. Merriwether, Dexter. What can I do for ya?"

"Could you tell us where John Jacobs might be?"

A laugh started from the depths of Dwight's belly and rolled up and out of his mouth to echo in the still air. When he composed himself, he said, "He shoulda been hangin' from a rope by now. He cheated me, robbed a train, and killed a bunch of people in the process. That man's no good. You're better off not knowin' him. Unless you're bounty hunters. If'n ya are, if I lead ya to him I want a cut of the bounty."

"We heard a whole different story about him," Roscoe said. "What would you do if he returned to his land?"

Dwight's eyes grew even colder than they already were and he took a step forward. "If that conniving slug comes back here, he can expect to get a belly full of lead. Me and the boys'll make sure of that."

"You have a crew to help defend this place? I don't see nobody." Dexter said as he looked around in a lazy manner. "I see you and your wife, that's it."

"They're in the bunkhouse behind the house. Ten of 'em. So don't worry, I've got the men and the firepower to protect this place."

"Well, good luck to you, then. Dexter, we need to keep moving."

"Why don't you fellas stay for supper," Dora said with a much more welcoming tone than her husband could ever produce. She ignored the icy glare he gave her and her smile was warm enough to combat it.

"If it's no trouble, ma'am." Roscoe answered and tipped his hat.

"No trouble at all. Robbie!"

A teen with tousled dark hair that matched his father's came running outside. "Yes, Ma?"

"Take these two gentlemen's mounts and feed them some oats. They're stayin' for supper."

"Yes, ma'am."

Roscoe and Dexter dismounted and the boy took the reins to lead them to the barn. "Thank you for your hospitality, ma'am." Roscoe slipped his hat off as he entered the house behind Dora and Dwight. Dexter brought up the rear, watching where the kid took the horses.

The meal was bland, but the intelligence gained was savory. By the time Brisco and Bowler set out for home, the two knew about Dwight's defenses and tactics for defeating anyone who tried to take away his land. He sincerely believed it was his and talked about it like he'd earned it with the sweat of his own brow. Mrs. Sutton knew differently, and all night she snuck glances at her husband. She was less than proud of him, very afraid, and if it came down to a firefight against the man and his forces, she would most likely bolt with her son. Sutton thought he had an impenetrable defense, but it would fall easily with the right offense.

"We need to go back to town and talk to Cal. He can put together some weapons that'll lower the body count considerably."

"You preparing to go in guns blazing, Brisco?"

"Do you see any other way? He is not going to give up without a fight. That much is for certain. The only other thing I can think of is to lure his hands away from the scene, and when he's alone, swoop in and take over." He shook his head. "Let's go talk to Cal. He's had years of experience dealing with people like Sutton."

"And we haven't?"

"Let's just say his tactics are a little more advanced to deal with the baddest of the bad. Sutton is one of them, so we need something he won't expect."

"It's pretty late. Cal is probably already in bed, and there ain't much we're gonna really be able to do until Socrates and Barry get back."

"John is not going to be happy that we didn't take care of things, but I think he'll be okay with it when I tell him we have something better in mind for taking Sutton."

In Sunset Ridge, Bowler said goodnight to Brisco and stopped at the livery to drop off his mount and return to the hotel. Brisco made his way home, put Comet in the barn for the night, brushed him down and gave him an extra green apple, and then he let himself in the house. It was dark and quiet. He went upstairs and found Dixie asleep, but when he got into bed she rolled to her side and put an arm around him.

"I'm glad you're home." She said in a soft voice.

"Nothing happened, at least not what we planned on. But now we're prepared to make a play for something bigger." He took Dixie into his arms. "If Bowler and I tried to take him on by ourselves, we would have been killed. We'll wait for the right time."

"There's always a right time for everything." She whispered the words as her lips closed in on his.

"Mmm, always." He kissed her.