Chapter 12
It only took three days before Sheriff Madden came back to Jarrod's office. The first thing he said was, "Good. You're here."
"I'm not planning on going anywhere until I leave for San Francisco next week, Fred," Jarrod said, looking up from papers he was working on. "Why? Is there a problem?"
Sheriff Madden sat down. "According to the police in San Francisco, you're already there."
Jarrod went white. "What?"
Sheriff Madden. "And you're in jail for getting into a fight at a poker game at the Palace last night. Disturbing the peace and lying to authorities."
"Lying?"
"About who you are."
Jarrod sighed, exasperated. "We know who I am, and we know who that fellow in jail in San Francisco is, too, don't we? Damn you, Darby!"
"I thought you put him on a train to Chicago."
"I did. He pulled a switch on me, probably in Sacramento. I knew I show have taken him all the way to Chicago myself."
"It's the chief of police in San Francisco who wired me. Darby's been passing himself off as you, but when he was arrested for the fight, they called in the chief because – well, the fight was in the palace and the mayor was at another table. He had Darby cough up his identification papers, and that was the end of all that. Just to be sure, they wanted me to verify that you were still here."
Jarrod sighed again and checked his watch. "I can still make the morning train and be in San Francisco this evening." He got up and grabbed his jacket. He considered taking his gun belt, but then put it in his desk and locked it. "Will you do me a favor, Fred? Wire San Francisco and tell them the real me is coming to get my cousin out of trouble if I can, and Angie!" He called his secretary, who came in. "Send a runner out to the ranch and tell them I have to go to San Francisco to get Jack Darby out of jail. They'll understand."
Sheriff Madden stood up. "How are you ever going to get rid of this twin of yours?"
"That doesn't worry me as much as how I'm going to repair all the damage he's probably done to my reputation in San Francisco," Jarrod said. "Angie, tell them I might be a few days."
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Once he reached San Francisco, it took Jarrod a while to track down exactly where Darby was being held. It was nearly ten o'clock when he finally found him, and explained to a precinct captain who couldn't stop staring that Darby really was Jack Darby and not Jarrod Barkley. He found out that Darby had lost the bulk of his thousand dollars playing poker over the last few days, so Jarrod posted the bail the court had set that morning.
"I made every effort to explain that I was John Darby and not you," Darby said as he reclaimed his personal belongings.
"Yes, but that was after you claimed to be me ever since you got here and got caught at it," Jarrod said. "You're just darned lucky they know me around here." He looked at the property sergeant behind the desk who was so shocked looking at him and Darby that he couldn't shut his mouth. "Don't worry, Lionel, you're not seeing things. Mr. Darby here is my cousin and I have the misfortune of resembling him."
The property sergeant shook his head. "I really thought he was you, Mr. Barkley, despite his papers. He even has that scar on his arm."
Jarrod's eyes flew open. "He has WHAT?"
"Merely ink, Cousin Jarrod," Darby said. "It will wear off in a matter of days."
"It'll have some help as soon as I get you home!"
"I must be in court in the morning for my hearing," Darby said as they headed out the door.
"What time?" Jarrod asked.
"Eleven o'clock," Darby said.
"That might give me time to straighten this out and get you off the hook without serving any time," Jarrod said. "But Jack, if I do get you off, as soon as they release you, I'm putting you on a boat straight to New Orleans."
"That would be quite welcome, Cousin," Darby said.
"And if I ever – and I mean ever – hear of you impersonating me again, anywhere in the entire world, I will track you down and hang your sorry hide from the nearest tree. Do you hear me?"
"Loud and clear, Cousin. Loud and clear." They were outside now and Darby asked, "Where are we going?"
"I own a home here," Jarrod said. "We're going there for the night – and I'd better find everything I had there is still there after you've left town."
"Cousin Jarrod, I am hurt," Darby acted wounded. "Do you think I'm not capable of learning my lessons?"
"No, I think you're not interested in learning your lessons," Jarrod said and hailed a hack.
In half an hour, they were entering Jarrod's house together, and Jarrod closed the door behind them. It took him a moment to get lights on, since he did not yet have the new electric light system that was becoming available. Once he had lighting, however, Darby was able to take a look around. "Very nice, Cousin," he said. "And this is yours, strictly? Not the family's property?"
"Mine," Jarrod said. "I earn my own keep in San Francisco – or at least I did. Thanks to you, I now have to clear up my reputation with the bar."
"I do apologize, Cousin. Impersonating you was ghastly of me and I will not do it again."
"I know you won't," Jarrod said.
Jarrod checked his watch. It was getting on to midnight now. Darby said, "I trust there is a place for me to lay my head for the night."
"Upstairs," Jarrod said. "The last door toward the back. The door on the right before that is the wc. Go to bed, now."
"A little something to help me sleep, perhaps?"
"Go to bed, Jack."
Denied even a nip, Darby made his way upstairs, but stopped half way. "Do you have a razor I might borrow in the morning? I haven't had anything with which to shave since your brother kindly lent me – "
"Grow a beard," Jarrod said. "It might help people tell us apart until I get you headed east."
"Good night, Cousin," Darby said and went upstairs.
Jarrod poured himself some scotch and sank into a chair. He wasn't even sure he trusted Darby to still be here in the morning. The man could easily sneak off during the night and Jarrod would be out his bail money, but he was pretty sure if Darby did that, he would get out of town. The jig was up for him in San Francisco, and Darby was sharp enough to know it. Jarrod half wished he would be gone in the morning, but of course he didn't really. He wanted his bail money back, and he wanted to personally see Darby on a boat from which he could not wander.
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Darby was there in the morning, his inked in "scar" as washed off as it was going to get – time was going to have to get rid of it entirely. Fortunately, his hearing was before a judge Jarrod knew personally. When the case was called and Jarrod and Darby stood together before Judge Oberlin, the judge looked startled for a moment, and then he smiled. "Which of you is which?" he asked.
Jarrod said, "I am Jarrod Barkley, your honor, entering my appearance on behalf of my cousin, John Darby."
"Well, at least now I understand the charges," Judge Oberlin said. "How are you pleading, Mr. Darby?"
"Guilty, your honor," Darby said, almost proudly.
Jarrod quickly said, "Your honor, Mr. Darby did make an attempt during his arrest last night to tell the arresting officers who he really was, but they both knew me personally and did not believe him until the chief showed up. It appears they believed he was me and I had simply had too much to drink. No one was seriously injured in the fight, and I request the court sentence Mr. Darby to the 24 hours already served and let me take him to the port where this evening I will put him on a boat to his home, which is New Orleans, Louisiana. Mr. Darby would like to state that he will not return to California and he will never again impersonate me."
Judge Oberlin looked at the prosecutor. "Does the State concur?"
The prosecutor said, "Your honor, Mr. Barkley and I discussed this case just prior to this hearing, and the State is satisfied that under the circumstances, time served is an appropriate sentence, on the conditions Mr. Barkley described."
Always happy to get rid of a case, the judge banged his gavel. "The sentence is time served. Mr. Darby is free to go and any bail refunded, but beware, Mr. Darby, if you are ever arrested in California again, you will be back before this court and you will be serving much more time."
"I do understand, your honor," Darby said.
"Have a nice trip to New Orleans, Mr. Darby," the judge said.
"Thank you, your honor," Darby said, and Jarrod hustled him out of the courtroom so fast neither one of them saw the smiles on the faces of the judge and the prosecutor.
