Chapter 13

Jarrod sat in the waiting room of the undertaker's office. They had brought Phil Archer's body here and the undertaker was seeing to him while Jarrod took care of the paperwork, but he kept starting and stopping, starting and stopping. He was completely stunned by what had happened out in the street. It seemed so unreal, Archer in workman's garb trying to rent a wagon to leave town, to get away from the murder charge that surely was coming. Phil Archer had murdered a prostitute, and Jarrod shot him. Shot him. For Jarrod, it was like the whole world had just suddenly tilted 45 degrees and wouldn't right itself.

And Daisy. Apparently all she needed to hear, or see, or smell, or something, was that Archer was sorry for what he'd done. Daisy had comforted him in his last moments with nothing but forgiveness in her big heart. But of course, Daisy was a dog. She couldn't remember that even if she forgave Phil Archer, even if they all forgave Phil Archer, Mandy Peale was still dead.

While Jarrod sat there trying to go over and sign the papers for Archer's burial, Sam Davison came in. He looked as baffled and unreal as Jarrod felt. "Jarrod – "

Jarrod wiped tears from his face for the tenth time. "Sam," he said and sat back from the little desk he was working at.

Davison sat down in a chair next to the desk. "I can't believe this. I should have seen it coming, Phil making a run for it, but I just didn't – "

"Don't blame yourself, Sam," Jarrod said. "I didn't see it coming either. Have you been out to his place to see it's secure?"

"I went with the sheriff. We just got back. Phil had packed up all his personal things and was ready to load that wagon he was going to rent. I figure he thought we wouldn't recognize him in that outfit he was wearing, and he was right. I'd never seen him look that rough."

"Packed up all his things, huh?"

"Lock, stock and – saxhorn."

Jarrod had to chuckle just a little, sadly. Phil and his saxhorn. Now they'd never hear that sound of an elephant bellowing along the road again. "Sam, there was no better way for this to end up," Jarrod said wearily. "He killed Mandy Peale, he let Nat Springer be charged for it. All because he couldn't – well, he couldn't get the job done and she laughed at him."

"He was such a little weasel of a guy," Davison said, "but he was a good Assistant DA."

"I know," Jarrod said.

"Jarrod, I hate to ask this of you, but I've got no assistant now and the workload is just too much for one man. Can you fill in until I find someone else? Just part time. I'll start looking for a replacement right away."

"Replacement," Jarrod said slowly. "I'm not sure anybody can replace Phil. Yes, I can fill in part time. Let me get some things out of the way today and I'll come see you in the morning."

Davison got up and offered his hand. Jarrod stood long enough to see the man out, then he sat and finished up the paperwork.

In less than fifteen more minutes, Jarrod had paid for Archer's funeral and had a last moment with the man. Why the hell did this have to happen? Jarrod wondered. We were friends in school. What did the years do to you, Phil? Was there anything I could have done to prevent this?

Jarrod left with the questions forever unanswered. As he stepped out in the street, he saw Nick walking up his way, and they met at the edge of the street in front of the mercantile.

"You all right, Jarrod?" Nick asked.

Jarrod nodded. "I got Phil's funeral taken care of, and I'm going to be taking over his workload until Sam gets somebody new."

"You sure you got time for all that?"

"It won't be for long. I'll manage."

Nick didn't think it looked like Jarrod was managing very well right now. "There was nothing you could do to stop this, Jarrod. Archer was gonna go to the gallows even if you hadn't shot him. You did him a favor."

"Maybe," Jarrod said, "but killing an old friend – it's gonna hurt for a long time." Jarrod shook his head. "Things went all wrong, Nick. First Bret Schuyler, now Phil Archer. Things just went all wrong with my old friends, and I got nothing but luckier."

"You've had your share of trouble too, Jarrod."

"But I had your help. I worked through it. They didn't."

"You can't go blaming yourself for that."

"I'm not. I'm just – sorry." Jarrod took a deep breath. "Did you talk to the sisters about Daisy?"

Nick nodded, with a wistful smile. "Daisy's got a new home. She's already adopted my replacement – Sister Theresa."

"A woman? That's unusual for Daisy."

"Well, Sister Theresa is the boss around there. It looks like that's who Daisy adopts, the boss."

They started walking down the street toward Jarrod's office. "Well, I guess you are kind of the boss at the house and that's why she adopted you. How are you doing? Are you going to be all right without her?"

"I'll see her once a week when I deliver her food, and Audra will see her practically every day. And you should see those kids, climbing all over her, and she just eats up the attention. They'll all be fine, and I will, too. But you're out your fee you got her for."

Jarrod shrugged. "No matter. I've got bigger losses to get over."

Nick put his arm around Jarrod's shoulders as they walked. "Just don't let them drag you down too far, Pappy."

"I won't," Jarrod said. And then he perked up a little. "What would you say if I brought home a saxhorn?"

"I'd kick you out to one of the line shacks for the rest of your life."

"I didn't say I'd play it. But I think I'd like to have it around, if I can get it."

Nick gave a nod. "In that case, bring 'er on home. Maybe she'd make a good umbrella stand."

"Or a 'horn of plenty' for the Thanksgiving table?"

"Or a bucket for the fire brigade….."

The End

Note: Archer actually played a tuba in the TV show but I didn't want to leave the impression that it was like a modern big round thing with the big bell that we call a tuba now. The saxhorn was popular during the Civil War and looked just like Archer's instrument but had a longer bell, not bigger around. No one plays it much today, but Adolph Sax left a more popular instrument, the saxophone. And I just like writing the word "saxhorn."