Chapter 12

Jarrod and Heath went into town together that afternoon, heading straight for the sheriff's office, both hoping secretly that they would see a left-handed young man in the sheriff's jail, but that wasn't the case. There was no one there.

"Any luck finding the guy Jarrod told you about, Sheriff?" Heath asked as Jarrod wandered to the cellblock and just looked in there.

Sheriff Madden gave Jarrod a glance. "Yes and no. Jarrod, come here. Sit down."

Jarrod came back, but did not sit down.

"Heath, do you remember that drive that went through a week or two ago?" Sheriff Madden asked.

"Yeah, crew from a place down Modesto way, taking a herd up to market in Sacramento," Heath said.

"They were on their way back the other day, when you were hit and McCall was shot, according to a couple of the saloons around here."

"Where are they now?" Heath asked.

"Further south," Sheriff Madden said. "I haven't been down after them yet, but according to Harry, a young left-handed man with a tan hat came into his place the other night. And I checked with the barber – those two definitely saw the same man you did, and he was with that bunch."

"Pick him up," Jarrod said.

"I will, if I can get to them, but I had to be in court this morning and I only have one deputy covering for me – Jim is off to Lodi. I can't leave until tomorrow."

"If they're heading straight for Modesto, you won't catch up with them until they get there," Heath said. "They have a couple days head start on you."

Jarrod said, "They hit us. They may be hitting others. Stealing their cattle. That'll take time."

"Heath, do you know what the brand was on the cattle they took to Sacramento?" the sheriff asked.

Heath nodded. "A circle eight. Funny brand. Not one I've seen before."

"But one you can fairly easily make out of the Barkley B," Jarrod said. He could see it in his head – round off the hard edges of the B and circle it.

Heath nodded. "That's why they'd have hit us, and they might hit somebody else they can change the brand on without much effort. When you catch them, you should check their branding irons. They might have a few."

The sheriff nodded. "I'll get moving in the morning. But I won't be taking a posse."

Jarrod nodded. He knew there really wasn't any call for one, not since they were already a couple days behind this bunch and the only evidence against this kid was the testimony of a man with brain damage. But he said, "I can go with you and make sure we have the right guy."

Heath's eyes flashed for a moment, but then he thought that if Jarrod was going to be with the sheriff, he should be all right. "If you feel up to it," Heath said, "but maybe there ought to be a posse. If Jarrod is right about this guy, the two of you are gonna be outnumbered by a long shot."

"I feel up to it," Jarrod said.

"I don't know how we'd get a posse up for this - we'll be gone for a couple days at least, maybe more," the sheriff said. "We can't abuse the privilege or we won't be able to get one when we really need it."

"Maybe I ought to go with you at least," Heath tried.

Jarrod shook his head. "You need to be in charge at the ranch."

"If it turns out we need to arrest somebody, I'll get help locally from wherever we are at the time," Sheriff Madden said.

Jarrod asked, "What time do you want me here in the morning?"

Heath knew the decision was made – it would be the sheriff and Jarrod and nobody else. He didn't like it much – and he knew Nick and the women would like it even less – but he didn't argue anymore. He just nodded and hoped for the best.

XXXXXX

Heath was right. Nick nearly blew up when Jarrod told him he would be leaving with the sheriff in the morning and might well be gone for days. "You're not well enough," Nick said flatly.

"I'm fine," Jarrod said. "I'll be with Fred. We won't do anything too risky."

"Too risky," Nick said. "That's not good enough."

Nick just stared at his older brother. At another time, before he was sick, Jarrod might have let into him for being too obstinate and overprotective, but now he just stared and said quietly, "I'm going, Nick. I'll be careful."

Nick growled in frustration. It wasn't like he could stop this from happening, but he sure wanted to. Jarrod might have been more attentive these days, and lately his sentences might have been longer, but he was still not the man he was before he got sick. Being able to hear things and see things others weren't paying attention to didn't mean he was up to carrying a gun and being on the road for days in search of rustlers and a potential killer who could identify him as a witness. But before Nick could argue further, Jarrod turned and left.

Victoria was no happier, but she left her argument at, "I don't think you're really up to it, but I won't stop you if you think it's important."

"It is important," Jarrod assured her.

"You're certain this is the man who shot Mac?"

"I'm certain," Jarrod said.

"Be careful," she said.

Jarrod kissed her and said, "I will," and nothing more was said about it.

In the morning, Jarrod was packed and off to town before the others had even finished breakfast. As he left the table and headed for the front door, Audra put her fork down and said, "I think I've lost my appetite."

XXXXXXX

Sheriff Madden and Jarrod did not catch up with the men they were after on their first day out, even though they had made good time and traveled nearly 30 miles. As the sun began to set, they made camp near a stream, took care of their horses, built a fire and ate, all in virtual silence. The sheriff was not normally a talkative man, and with Jarrod still feeling off kilter, the silence was pretty much guaranteed. But as they ate, the sheriff asked, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Jarrod said.

"Feeling any more like you're with the rest of us yet?"

Jarrod smiled at the way he put that. "Maybe still a few steps out of the firelight," he said. "But I'm all right."

"I guess you haven't seen anything along the way or heard anything that would help us."

"Not yet."

The sheriff sipped his coffee. "You and I need to talk about what we're gonna do with this guy if we find him."

Jarrod nodded. "You said we'd go for help if need be."

"Why don't we approach them easy – just share some coffee, chat a little bit? We can say we're on our way to Modesto to pick up a prisoner. Heath was right, we're gonna be outnumbered by quite a bit. We need to look harmless as long as we can."

"It might work as long as this kid doesn't recognize me," Jarrod said. "He saw me looking at him when he came out of the barber shop."

"A chance we'll have to take, but I'd bet money he won't recognize you."

"Hmm," Jarrod said, and was silent for a little while before he said, "We might be betting more."

The sheriff gave a big sigh. "I didn't want to say anything like this to your family, but I'm sure they know we could be betting our lives. It wouldn't be the first time though, would it?"

Jarrod smiled. "No."

"You keep your eyes and ears open and tell me if you see or hear anything odd – and frankly, I'd bet on us."

Jarrod said, "Thanks for the faith."

Then the sheriff turned more serious. "You'd let me know if you were feeling too far away, wouldn't you?"

Jarrod nodded. "I'm all right."

And maybe a bit better than he was, but he didn't want to say so yet, not until he was more sure. Not until he felt like he could handle the worries and concerns of normal life. He felt like he could handle the stress of confronting rustlers and the man who shot McCall, so long as he wasn't alone, and he wasn't. But he didn't want to lose that edge in his senses that the calm, out of place feeling was giving him, not yet. Even if it was leaving him. He couldn't afford for it to leave him now. Not now.