Chapter 51

As he dodged people and conveyances to make his way to the sheriff's office, Jarrod Barkley was smiling. Remembering what had created that smile, reminded him that he wanted to send a couple of telegrams … and thank Mrs. Fairchild. He changed course … might as well do that first.

The smells floating through the building momentarily dampened the joy behind the smile … reminded him too much of home. However, the cheerful greeting from Mrs. Fairchild quickly rekindled the good feeling. Her easy laugh, and quick move to downplay his attempts to thank her, simply reinforced his opinion of her.

Mr. Fairchild is one lucky man.

Having extracted a promise that she would be sure to charge him … fully charge him … for any meals … past or future … delivered to the house, he drifted over to the telegraph enclave.

Before he could voice his request, young Pleasant addressed him.

"Mr. Barkley, I was just about to deliver this to your hotel. It came in on this morning's stage."

He handed him an envelope. One glance broadened his smile and warmed his heart. He recognized the handwriting … Mother. He decided to save it for later … to be enjoyed in quiet, comfortable surroundings.

"Thank you Master Fairchild." He waved the envelope. "This is a most unexpected surprise … and most welcome. I'm glad to have saved you the trouble of delivering it, such serendipitous event being realized by my need to send a couple of telegrams."

Pleasant smiled, and handed him the necessary paper and pencil.

"Pleased to be of service, Sir."

The attorney paused in his writing to glance at the young man.

He'd like to invite him to call him Jarrod, but suspected his parents would deem it inappropriate. Expected they had raised him to be respectful, not just because it was propitious for business, but because it fit their values and beliefs.

Remembering the envelope he had safely tucked away, he recalled his parents having done the same. He decided to tolerate the sirs and misters, and returned to formulating his messages.

He smiled at the look of surprise and delight on the young man's face when he accepted the change after paying the requested fee, and then flipped him a gold dollar.

"If you should receive any telegrams for me today, just hold them here. I'll check in later … may have others to send at that time."

"Yes sir, Mr. Barkley. I'll be sure they're here for you."

The slight nod and quick smile acknowledged the reassurance as the attorney turned and made his way back outside and once again in the direction of his client's current domicile. He wanted to share what he'd been up to this morning, but more importantly, he wanted to make sure Thomson was ready for tomorrow … physically and mentally.

He was pretty sure his years with Sawyer would have taught him what to expect … except perhaps the bail issue. He wanted to apprise him of the possibility … prepare him as best he could … and he had no idea how to do that.

In truth, he had no idea if one could do that. Just how does one prepare someone, seemingly unable to tolerate being closed in, for the eventuality of being locked in a small cell for what could be several weeks … or more? Much more.

For Jarrod Barkley had another concern. One he would voice with no one. Should the worst happen … should he lose this case … would he plead for leniency? Would he ask for life in prison instead of hanging … would his client allow him to do so?

He shook his head and continued walking.

One thing at a time, old boy … one thing at a time. Just focus on being ready for tomorrow … don't fail to consider anything Manus might do. Hope the telegrams start flushing out the vermin.

As he finished sending the final telegram, and prepared to file the slips of paper, Pleasant Fairchild took a moment to let his eyes quickly rove over them. He liked Mr. Barkley … liked the respect he showed … and the generosity he deployed.

He thought about the file of outgoing telegrams … wondered if he might be able to help the man. He'd have to pull out specific ones … check them again … see what fit together. He vowed he'd do so … as soon as he had free time again … Sunday perhaps.

Sheriff Collins was at his desk when Counselor Barkley made his entrance. He thrust his chin towards the cells, inviting him to go on back. Jarrod nodded and did just that, finding Heath and Frank in quiet conversation over a game of cards. Both looked up when he stepped in. Good mornings were exchanged.

"So, Frank, how's our young man doing this morning?"

"Seems to have had a good night. He's had some breakfast … ate a bit more than he managed yesterday. I'm guessing he'll do better with lunch. Seems to be holding up fairly well." His grey eyes twinkled as he looked at the lawyer.

"Do you suppose he's up to some discussion with me? I don't want to tax his strength. What's your estimation of what he's ready to tackle?"

His eyes were equally bright and he found himself struggling to contain a smile. He expected there would be a reaction … soon. He was proven right.

"Don't need to be talking about me as if I'm not here. I'm not deaf … or dumb."

The two men laughed. It didn't take long for the young blond to realize he'd been baited … and hooked. He joined the joviality … welcomed the distraction it provided.

"In all seriousness, Heath, I do have some things to discuss. Has Frank here shared our conversation?"

"About how little we came up with yesterday? He has."

"About bail?" He waited, hoping he'd find a way to address this … to make it be all right.

"Yup."

He saw the shroud quickly cover the blue eyes, could almost feel the muscles tense, the spine stiffen. Felt the cowardly relief in knowing he'd not have to initiate the discussion … accompanied by the fear that he'd not be able to end it … not satisfactorily.

"As much as I am able, I want to prepare you for tomorrow … for all eventualities. I'm sure Manus will oppose bail. I'll fight it … and may not win. He will use the lack of motive as justification. My intent is to use that same lack of motive to refute the veracity of the very biased witnesses' accounts of what happened.

"Any granting of bail is predicated upon the duty of the courts to protect the public. If there's any reasonable question in that regard the judge will be duty bound to deny the request."

He let that sit, gave his client time to digest the significance, before continuing, and hoping he wasn't overstepping his bounds.

"Heath, I know how important it is to you … know what keeping you in here does to you. At least I know about it … don't truthfully claim I can appreciate what that experience is for you. If I can't get bail, I want you to know I'll do everything within my power to help mitigate the effects on you. That's all I can promise."

As he gazed on the man, now leaning back on the bed, eyes closed, chest moving faster than necessary, he knew his words had been heard. He hoped the next words would be heard equally well … embraced as fully.

"There's one thing I need you to understand … understand and accept."

He stopped and waited. He would not continue until the man opened his eyes. Opened them and made contact with his … and kept that contact. He needed to talk to him, not just let his words drift through the air around him.

The pain he saw when those eyes finally met his, almost derailed him. Faltering for just a moment, he reminded himself that this task was no less important than what he might do in the courtroom. He locked onto the grey-blues and proceeded.

"I need your help … if I am to help you. No matter how difficult … how painful … I need you to tell me what's happening with you, what might make it better.

"I am not, and have never professed to be, a mind-reader. If you won't trust me, then, in truth, there will be little I can do for you. I need your trust Heath. Can you give it?"

The eyes remained fixed on each other, neither willing to break contact … admit defeat. Neither wanting the other to give up, or to give up on the other. It was a battle hard fought, no quarter given, nor taken. And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. He nodded … and spoke.

"It's yours. But, understand this. I can only tell you what I know … sometimes I don't know what's happening … have no idea what might help…. All I know is that tight, closed spaces take over … leave me feeling … powerless."

He met the eyes again and knew this was the moment of truth.

"Powerless … and terrified."

The eyes closed, the head dropped, the body slumped … its deepest secret revealed. Frank moved slowly, but decisively, and soon sat beside him, an arm around those sagging but tense shoulders.

"Hey, Son. You think I didn't know that … we didn't know that … you better think again. You think it matters to us … then you really better think again. You're not careful you're going to light the counselor's fuse again."

He waited a moment and then went on. "No shame in being terrified … only shame is in giving into it without a fight. That fight includes asking for help. That's all we need, Heath … all we ask. Let us help. Tell us how … when you can."

He tightened his grip and in a bit felt the tenseness ease.

"Thank you, Heath. I give you my solemn oath that I will not knowingly violate that trust. Whether or not we obtain bail, my plan is to request the earliest possible court date. I don't expect Manus will object to that. He likely wants to spend no more time away from bigger places, more important people, than necessary.

"And, whoever is involved will want this done and forgotten as quickly as possible. I'm guessing that sitting in a courtroom will be some relief from sitting in this cell. Am I right?"

It was a quiet drawl, but firm. "You're right."

"Okay. I think we're good on that, so I'll share the other pieces of news." That brought both heads swiveling around to focus on him.

"As I suggested to Frank last evening, I think it might be time to create some unrest with whoever is behind all this … time to start poking the hornet's nest. I sent off a couple of telegrams which I suspect will be seen by people for whom they were not intended … people who will then know that we're planning to search beyond Greenley.

"This morning I discovered Springer's still in town. In town and talking with Manus. Paid him a visit. I don't think he was happy with me. Also, think he was worried. He's not sure what I know … what I don't. Just another little poke. Will wait and see what materializes."

Frank was smiling. "Wish I'd been there for that."

Heath chuckled, the sound unexpected and welcomed. "Nothing new there. You're always wanting to be in the thick of things, Frank."

Jarrod looked at both. Suspected they each were doing what they could to take care of the blond.

"You," he pointed at Thomson, "need to get some rest. Tomorrow could prove to be a longer day than planned … or hoped. I've got work to do to prepare. I think I can arrange to have supper delivered here tonight. Is it a date?"

"Boy howdy, Jarrod. I'd hope you could do a better job than this of lining up dates. Guess beggars can't be choosers … glad to help out."

Jarrod chuckled and made his exit. He'd stop by the Fairchild bakery and place his order.