Chapter 18

When the Barkley men got off the train in San Jose the next morning, it was after a trip without incident. The sun had just come up and San Jose was just waking up. They stood outside the train depot for a moment, looking around. Jarrod had been here several times, but neither Nick nor Heath had been here more than once. It was going to take a bit to get oriented.

"I think the first thing we do is check in with the law," Jarrod said. "So they'll know who we are as soon as we get into trouble."

"Counting on that, are you?" Nick asked.

"Just preparing for the worst," Jarrod said.

"Do you know where the sheriff's office is?" Heath asked.

Jarrod pointed. "Not that far away, and this is a big enough town that they usually have somebody there at all hours."

Jarrod stepped down into the street, and his brothers followed him. It was only four blocks or so to the sheriff's office, a fairly new building with a fairly new jail that was currently empty. A deputy was sitting with his feet up on the desk and looking like he had fallen asleep, but he looked up and sat up when the Barkleys came in.

"Good morning," Jarrod said. "My name is Jarrod Barkley. These are my brothers, Nick and Heath."

"What can I do for you?"

Jarrod explained why they were there and told him about Burt McFarland and his wife. He told the deputy how McFarland had thrown him off a train. As he did, Nick perused the wanted posters on the wall – and quietly motioned Heath over for a look.

"All right, well," the deputy said when Jarrod finished. "You ought to have a look at those wanted posters."

And Nick said, "Jarrod, there's a wanted over here on Burt McFarland."

Jarrod's eyes went a bit wide, and he came over and saw the poster. "Assault?" Jarrod said, looking over his shoulder at the deputy.

The deputy nodded. "On his wife he ain't been living with for a while. He beat her up about three weeks ago, left her at her boarding house and skedaddled on out of town."

"How is she?" Heath asked.

"Still pretty bruised and cut up," the deputy said. "She might not have wanted to press charges, but some of the other ladies in town talked her into it."

"I take it you haven't been looking for him too hard," Nick said.

"Like I said, he left town," the deputy said.

"He's dead and buried in Pleasanton," Jarrod said. "He tried to kill me a few days ago. I ended up killing him."

The deputy didn't look particularly concerned. All he said was, "Are you claiming the reward?"

Jarrod almost grumbled while Nick and Heath both shook their heads. "All I want is to talk to people, and one of them is McFarland's wife."

"She oughtta be home, but one of those other ladies might still be with her," the deputy said. "They've been looking after her – partly because they're worried about her husband coming back, but I guess they don't have to worry about that anymore. Who else do you want to see?"

"Jason Ipswitch for starters," Jarrod said, "but I know where he lives."

The deputy looked surprised at the name. "You pick troubled people to see."

"Why?" Jarrod asked. "Why is Ipswitch troubled?"

"He's been torn up since his son died about two or three months ago."

Now Jarrod was surprised. "Aaron? Aaron is dead?"

"You knew him?"

"Him and his father. What happened to Aaron?"

"He died in prison. Pneumonia."

That explained everything to Jarrod and his brothers. That explained that Ipswitch was the man after Jarrod, and it explained why and why it started when it did. "Well, you and the sheriff ought to know another man was killed when McFarland tried to kill me and I killed him. McFarland threw both of us off a train."

The deputy looked even more nervous, but he nodded. He understood what Jarrod was saying.

Jarrod said, "We're gonna go see Mrs. McFarland and then Ipswitch."

The deputy said, "Maybe you best talk to the sheriff before you see Ipswitch. He's been a bit on the excitable side since his son died."

"I think we know that," Jarrod said. "We're gonna get some breakfast at the Café Rosa, and then we're gonna go see Mrs. McFarland. If the sheriff doesn't catch up with us in one place or the other, we'll stop back here before we go see Ipswitch, but we're gonna see Ipswitch today."

Jarrod led the way out, Nick and Heath following. "You think we ought to see Mrs. McFarland before we see Ipswitch," Heath said as they walked down the street.

"Yeah," Jarrod said. "She's gonna be less hostile. Besides, she might have the information about her husband's activities and if he hit her, and if she knows he's dead, she might be pretty willing to give it up. Then we can use it with Ipswitch."

As they sat and had breakfast, they planned. "I'll let you do most of the talking with Mrs. McFarland, Jarrod, but I'm gonna have a few of my own questions," Heath said.

"I know," Jarrod said. "Just let me start out with her, all right?"

"Tracking Ipswitch down might be tough in the middle of the day," Nick said.

"It might be," Jarrod agreed, "but as I recall, he was not one to go out on his ranch as a regular habit. He let his men do the field work while he did the paperwork or just took it easy around the house. I think that was Aaron's biggest problem – he'd been raised to take life easy and got too lazy. And thought he was too big a man to have to obey the rules."

"You know," Nick said, "if this Ipswitch did hire McFarland to kill you because of his son – "

"He did," Jarrod interrupted him. When certainty grabbed Jarrod, it grabbed him hard.

"All right," Nick said. "If Ipswitch has gotten word that McFarland didn't get you and is dead, he might just be waiting for us to show up."

"He might," Jarrod said. "At least he might be waiting for me if he thinks I might have connected McFarland to him. We'll be careful."

"We'll need horses to get to his place," Heath said.

"We'll get them at one of the liveries," Jarrod said.

"And we need to wire home that we got here safe."

Jarrod nodded. "I need to let Pinkerton know where we are, too, in case they come up with something else. And, I think we better get a room at the hotel so we can stay over. Sometimes, if you shake something loose somewhere, it doesn't come rolling your way until the sun goes down."

"One room," Nick said. "Even if one of us is sleeping on the sofa. We don't split up on this trip."

Jarrod and Heath both nodded.

XXXXXXX

The Barkley men stepped up onto the porch of the rooming house where McFarland's wife was living and took off their hats before Jarrod knocked on the door. "Let's see how this is gonna go," Jarrod muttered just as someone opened the door.

It was an older woman with an undamaged face, obviously one of the women who was looking after Jennifer McFarland. This woman opened the door only a crack and frowned a "Yes?"

"Good morning, ma'am," Jarrod said, smiling a soft smile. "My name is Jarrod Barkley. I'm an attorney from Stockton. These are my brothers, Nick and Heath. We're hoping to have a few words with Jennifer McFarland."

"About what?" the woman asked.

Jarrod decided the facts were what would probably get them in the door the fastest. "About her husband being killed a couple weeks ago. It seems like nobody around here has gotten the word."

When Jarrod said the word "killed," the woman stood up straighter, eyes wider. "Burt is dead?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jarrod said. "May we come in?"

The woman turned and they could hear her say over her shoulder, "There are three men here named Barkley who say Burt is dead."

"Let them in!" came a voice from inside.

"Wait there just a minute," the older woman said. She went away for a moment and returned with a sack that she held open. "Put your guns in here."

The Barkley men obliged, and the woman let them in.

There was a parlor there on the other side of the door, a kitchen way in the back where the older woman took the bag. Nick was the last one in the door and closed it quietly behind him.

A young woman stood up from a chair by the fireplace. She looked at them, but not with her head held high. It was easy to see she had been battered, and worse. Her face still bore the ugly green and yellow coloring that followed bruising, and worse. She had a cut on her left jaw at least three inches long that made all the Barkleys, especially Jarrod, shiver.

"Mrs. McFarland," Jarrod said, bowing slightly.

"Jennifer," she said quickly. "My husband is dead?"

Jarrod nodded, not sure how to phrase the answer, but finally just saying, "Yes, he is."

"How do you know?"

"I killed him," Jarrod said flatly. When Jennifer didn't pursue it or say anything at all, Jarrod said, "I'm sorry your husband did that to you."

Jennifer self-consciously touched the cut on her face, her gaze sinking toward the floor.

Jarrod got her attention again by pulling his collar aside and revealing the scar on his neck.

Jennifer stared at it, her mouth open.