Chapter 9

It was a long Friday night. The saloons had closed down and nothing had happened with the horse tethered in the street, but just as it was getting light on Saturday morning, the wait paid off. "Nick – " Heath said quietly.

Nick was making coffee but came to the window. He saw what Heath saw – someone moving toward the horse they had tethered nearby.

"I'll go," Heath said. "Your spurs are too noisy."

Heath quietly opened the door and walked toward the horse and the man who was untethering it. Before the man could mount, Heath caught up to him and grabbed the horse by the bridle. Startled, the man turned around.

Heath smiled. He could see the man's face in the faint light. "Broken nose, huh? And a near lame horse. Your luck hasn't been that good – "

The man ran, but Nick blasted his way out of the sheriff's office and headed him off, grabbing him by the collar. "Inside!" Nick yelled and hauled the man into the sheriff's office.

Heath followed them in and fetched the cell keys from the desk. He unlocked a cell and Nick pushed the man in. Heath locked him in securely.

"Well, well," Nick said. "Here we have exactly what we need."

"You're crazy. I was just getting my own horse. You're the two guys the man at the livery said stole it!"

"No, we're deputies," Nick said, "and we've just arrested you for the robbery of a stagecoach and the murder of four people."

"You're crazy!"

"No," Heath said. "We tracked you and your pals from Clayton to here, and we know how you got that broken nose."

"You just broke it a minute ago!"

"We didn't come anywhere near your nose," Nick said.

"Your word against mine."

"You're in the cell."

"Nick, why don't you finish making the coffee," Heath said. "We can have a nice conversation when the sheriff gets here."

Nick did as Heath suggested, while Heath kept a look through the window for anyone else who might come out onto the street and looked suspicious. But the only ones he saw were the sheriff and one his deputies, who came on horseback and hitched their horses to the rail outside.

"Morning, sheriff, have some coffee," Nick said when they came in. "And then some conversation with our guest with the busted nose."

The sheriff smiled and walked over to the cell where the prisoner was. "Ah, how nice. You really were here in Modesto."

The man just glared.

The sheriff said to the man, "Let me tell you how this is going to work. There's a recommendation we can make to the judge. He usually takes our recommendations. The first man in your little gang who tells a credible story about how you robbed that stage and killed those people and how you got that broken nose is the man who gets the recommendation that he not be hanged. The other ones – well, their fate stays up in the air but only until the trap door on the scaffold opens up. So, let's get right down to it. Do you want to be that first man, or do you want one of your buddies to get to live instead?"

Nick and Heath were really impressed with the sheriff's speech, and apparently the man in the cell was, too. "What do you want to hear?" he asked.

"Your name for starters," the sheriff asked.

"Cully Storm," the man said.

"Really? Cully Storm?"

"Yeah, really. Why would I make up a name like that?"

"Tell me how you got the broken nose."

"Me and two other men held up the stage between here and Clayton. When we stopped it, I saw a man, a passenger, still asleep inside. I wanted to haul him out and club him so he didn't make any trouble, but he woke up as I pulled him out and he butted me and broke my nose. That's when I clubbed him out and got the two women out."

"And then?"

"The shotgun jumped one of the other guys – "

"Give me a name."

"Sam Stone. The third guy is his brother, Joe. The shotgun jumped down from the coach and tackled Sam. Joe shot him in the head. Then Joe just kept shooting. Before we could stop him he shot them all except for the guy who butted me. We grabbed Joe and told him we could take the man's identification and put some money in his pocket instead, and he'd get blamed for being one of the robbers when he woke up. That would give us time to get away."

"You picked the wrong man to frame," Nick said.

"Do you still have the man's identification?" the sheriff asked.

"Joe has it," Cully Storm said. "We shot open the strongbox and stole the money – except for what we put in the man's pocket – and then we got out of there."

"Is this the first time you've robbed a stage?"

"No, but it's the first time anybody got killed. Joe just went crazy."

The sheriff looked at Nick and Heath. Heath just nodded, and the sheriff understood that everything Storm said matched up with what Jarrod said, and what the evidence showed, happened during the robbery.

"Okay," the sheriff said. "These two men are deputies who are going to take you to Clayton, right now. Stick your arms out, both of them together so I can handcuff you."

Cully Storm did as he was told, and in less than five minutes, Nick and Heath had him on the sheriff's horse. The three of them rode out of town toward Clayton before the town came awake.

But as the sheriff watched them go, he said to his deputy, "Meet me at the livery while I saddle a fresh horse."

The sheriff went out, and the deputy closed up the office and mounted up, following the sheriff to the livery stable.

XXXXXXX

Jarrod woke up early on Saturday morning, just as Nick and Heath were arresting Cully Storm. Jarrod hadn't been able to sleep well since he'd been jailed. It wasn't just the lumpy cot.

It was fear, out and out fear, that was keeping him awake. As Monday was drawing closer, he was getting more scared, and he hated himself for it. He tried to hide it and succeeded pretty well – so he thought. But he began to think not only about how his own clients facing charges like this felt before a trial, but also about how the men he prosecuted felt. He especially remembered the mistakes he had made – like Keno Nash – men he had prosecuted successfully and it turned out they were innocent. He understood now what they had gone through, and that was keeping him awake, too.

And then there was that possible lynch mob.

Mark Bromley came in even before Victoria came with his breakfast. Jarrod got up, but slowly. His bones were aching. "Have you heard from Nick and Heath?"

Mark shook his head. "I expect I'll hear something before too long. How are you doing?"

Jarrod nodded, hiding the fear. "All right except for the lumpy bed."

Mark was a very tall man – taller than even Nick – but he seemed to be slumping as he stood outside the cell. He seemed much shorter.

"How are you doing?" Jarrod asked.

"Anxious to hear from your brothers, like you are, but I want to talk long and hard this afternoon about how we're going to handle it if they don't bring any of the real robbers here. I had some ideas during the night – I wasn't sleeping very well, either."

Jarrod smiled a little. "Just what a defendant wants to hear from his lawyer."

"Sorry," Mark apologized. "I promise, I'll be well rested for the trial, but I'm hoping Nick and Heath come through and we don't even get to a trial."

"That makes two of us. Where is my mother, by the way?"

Mark smiled. "Cooking breakfast for us. I'm really beginning to be afraid that hotel won't let her go when this is over."

"Maybe she can give them some lessons today. Take her mind off things. I know she's really scared, Mark."

"Yes, she is, but she's tough as nails, your mother. Fear met its match in her."

Jarrod sighed. "That's good to hear."

Mark sighed, too, saying, "Well, I'll see you later, once I get my new thoughts in order. Then tomorrow we'll really nail things down, so we're ready for Monday."

Jarrod nodded, remembering how many times he had been where Mark was now, preparing for a difficult case over a weekend. "I'll see you later," Jarrod said, and he sat down on the cot again and opened the book he'd been reading.

Mark knocked on the cellblock door and gave Jarrod a last look. He knew his client was scared – any man would be. Mark just wanted to do the best he could, and he wanted to get Jarrod acquitted. He would work as hard as he could for that.