Chapter 19, by Julee

Folly shrank away from the desk as Farrow strode toward the sheriff, his already furious expression growing more furious by the lawman's deliberately slow response. "I want to see the man who killed my son!" he demanded, his eyes searching the room. Spotting Folly, he paused to shoot her a dire look.

Folly shivered and protectively pulled her wrap tighter. She sure hoped the sheriff knew what he was doing.

Irked but not surprised by his overbearing attitude, Roy addressed him, his voice unhurried and full of authority. "Look, Farrow, the boy's locked up, so why don't you just go on home. As soon as I get things sorted out, I'll let you know."

Farrow glared at him, predictably outraged at being dismissed by the local tin badge. "The only thing we need to sort out is the length of the rope," he hissed. "Now, open that door and let me see the face of the man who killed my son!"

Roy leaned back in his chair, seemingly unruffled by his outburst as he stealthily maneuvered his gun hand into position. "I'm gonna ignore that remark because I know you're grievin' your boy, but I'm warnin' you, I won't put up with any interference. Now do like I said and go home."

"Sheriff, wait! I want to see him," cried Billy from behind the heavy wooden door that housed his cell.

Roy scowled and shook his head. "That ain't a good idea, son."

"Maybe not, but it's what I want," the boy insisted.

Keeping an eye on Farrow, Roy got up from his chair and opened the door so he could talk to Billy without shouting. "Now look, son, there ain't nothin' in the law that says you gotta face him, so why put yourself through it?"

"Nothing but my conscience, sheriff."

Roy sighed and nodded. "All right, if that's really what you want." He looked at Farrow and jerked his head toward the open door. "Go on."

Unmoved by the sentimentality he'd just witnessed, Farrow approached the door where Roy unceremoniously relieved him of his sidearm. "You'll get it back when you leave."

Farrow smiled, amused by the sheriff's precaution. "I don't need to kill him, sheriff; the hang man will take care of that."

Feeling nothing but contempt for the man, Roy looked past him to Billy. "Give me a holler when you've had enough," he instructed, pulling the door shut.

Clutching the bars of his cell, the boy nodded and then shifted his gaze to Farrow as he came in, looming larger than life in the tiny area. He'd imagined this moment many times, imagined looking him in the eye and unleashing his hatred and anger, but everything was different now. He'd killed his son and there was no hate left, only guilt and regret. So rather than staring him down, he could only manage a furtive glance.

Farrow looked at him with derision. He was nothing more than a wide-eyed lanky kid, still wet behind the ears. How the hell did Dirk let him get the drop on him? "I suppose you think you were justified in killing my son…an eye for an eye or some other such nonsense."

Billy's brows knit together in remorse as he replayed the incident in his head. "I didn't plan to kill him," he began quietly. "I didn't even know he was there, but once I saw him, all I could think about was hurting you." He looked Farrow in the eye now. "You caused my Ma and me a whole lot of misery."

Farrow's mouth twisted into a heartless smile. "And how much misery is it going to cause her when you hang, Billy boy? Hmmm?" He shook his head and chuckled at the irony. "I'm willing to bet it's more than Dirk's death will ever cause me." It was a blunt admission, but he didn't see the need to pretend, not with Murdoch's brat anyway. He'd save that for his business associates, the people at church on Sunday, and most importantly the judge.

Billy hung his head. It pained him to think of his Ma, but he was also stunned by Farrow's callousness. Could a father really have so little feeling for his own son?

"That's right, Murdoch, you made my life easier. Not that I wished my son dead, you understand, but now that it's done…." He shrugged.

"But…but…he was your son…."

Farrow's eyes narrowed. "He carried my name, but it never meant anything to him. He got into one mess after another and because of it I spent a helluva lot of time and money cleaning up after him."

Realizing what kind of cleaning up Farrow was referring to, Billy swallowed the lump in his throat and jumped to question him just like the sheriff wanted. "Like you did in Placerville ten years ago…when you killed my father and Marshal Taylor's sons?"

Farrow frowned, troubled not by the killings but because it had marked the beginning of the end for him and Dirk. He thought back. Had he done wrong by him? Had he ignored him in favor of Byron? He shook his head, annoyed that Dirk still had the ability to anger him. "Dirk should have been learning the business, the same as his older brother, but he had no interest. He just wanted to play cards and have fun, so I gave him money for whiskey and women. I figured it'd keep him happy and out of any real trouble. But then he went and killed that old miner and drew unwanted attention to my entire operation."

Billy drew a deep breath. "So he did kill that miner."

Startled by his own carelessness, Farrow gave Billy a cold look as if the boy had somehow tricked him into letting his guard down. "Yes, well, I suppose it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"It matters," Billy said, his faced flushed. "It matters because you tried to bribe my father and the marshal so they'd forget the whole thing and when they refused you kidnapped the marshal's sons and ended up killing them and my father!"

Farrow gave him a detached look. "What can I say? They let their sense of duty get in the way of their thinking."

Outraged by his cavalier attitude, Billy's voice raised a decibel. "The devil you say, you no-good murderous…! One day you'll hang for what you done! The marshal and the Cartwrights will see to it!"

Farrow sneered at him. "You're the one who's going to swing, Murdoch!"

"Maybe, but at least I regret what I done, but you…." He shook his head, disgusted. "No wonder Dirk turned out the way he did."

Farrow's eyes blazed, the look of contempt on the boy's face angering him beyond his own comprehension. Maybe he was more rattled by Dirk's wasted life than he thought. "Why you impudent whelp! Who are you to judge me? I gave that boy everything!" In a rage now, he began to pace. "But he was soft…like his Ma! He didn't have the stomach for business…wasn't tough enough to succeed…he just bungled one job after another…but I never once let him down! I rescued him over and over again…why I even hired that gunman back in Placerville!" Breathing hard, he stopped pacing and gave Murdoch a triumphant look. "But then, you already know that, don't you boy?"

"And now I do too," Roy said, bursting in with his gun drawn.

Surprised, Farrow whirled around and stared at him, speechless for a moment before he let loose with a string of oaths.

"You can swear all ya want, but it ain't gonna change a thing. I got three witnesses that heard you say you're responsible for those killings in Placerville. Now move," he ordered, gesturing to an empty cell.

Incensed, Farrow moved towards him prompting Roy to cock the hammer of his gun and take aim. "One more step and you're a dead man, Farrow!"

Eyes glaring and chest heaving, Farrow begrudgingly heeded the warning.

"Now go on, get in that cell!"

Having no other choice, Farrow silently did as instructed, his mind racing. How could he have been so stupid? "Get me my lawyer, Coffee!"

Ignoring him, Roy yelled through the open door to his office. "Folly, bring me them keys."

Rushing to comply, Folly found the key ring on the desk and hurriedly took it to the sheriff. She avoided eye contact with Farrow, but that didn't stop him from haranguing her. "You just keep your mouth shut, Folly! You hear me? Don't say a word!"

Gathering her courage, Folly gave a little shake of her head. "Too late, Mr. Farrow. I only wanted to help you because of Dirk and now that he's gone…well…there's no reason now, is there?"

"Why you cheap little—!"

"You just pipe down!" Roy interjected.

Maddened by his lack of power, Farrow angrily sat on the bunk, the veins on his neck bulging.

Satisfied he'd succeeded in shutting him up, at least for the time being, Roy looked at Folly and gestured for her to leave. She nodded and with a sad smile to Billy, attempted to exit. She was prevented, however, by the sudden appearance of Marshal Taylor in the doorway. "What in the blue blazes is going on around here?" he roared, confused by the picture before him.

Billy made eye contact and then dropped his head, unable to maintain it. "I killed Dirk Farrow," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Shocked and angry, Taylor stared at the boy for a long moment before he finally found his voice. "You did what?" he exclaimed.

Farrow chuckled. "That's right," he taunted, "the kid's a killer and it's gonna be your job to see he hangs."

"Shut up," Taylor spat out.

Billy looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry Marshal, about everything, but I reckon he's right."

Taylor shook his head, his eyes full of disappointment and sadness. "Oh, Billy, it's my fault. I blame myself."

Billy's head flew up. "No! You told me over and over again, not to go off half-cocked…to abide by the law…but…well…I got impatient. I thought I knew better."

Taylor shook his head. "No, for years I filled your head with hate and now…." His eyes welled.

"And now we've got some talkin' to do," Roy said, stepping in and unlocking Billy's cell. "In my office."

The marshal and Billy traded confused glances while Farrow jumped to his feet. "You're not releasing him!"

"Course not," Roy said with a small smile, "that'll be for the judge to decide, but after I get through talkin' to him, I wouldn't be surprised if he goes easy."

Farrow eyed him angrily. Coffee was well-respected and it was entirely possible he had some pull with a number of judges on the circuit. "Just get Byron and my lawyer!"

Roy rubbed his chin. "Well, now, it's kind of late to be gettin' your lawyer tonight, but I expect you'll be seeing Byron real soon." And with that, he shut the door, leaving Farrow to steam.

In the outer office now, Marshal Taylor temporarily put the conversation about Billy on hold. As much as he wanted to talk about it, the mention of Byron's name reminded him of some other pressing business. "It was Byron and his flunky that rode out after Adam, Sheriff Coffee. They stopped the wagon a few miles out. Turns out, one of the Cartwright's hired hands was in on it. Bentley's waiting outside with him, him and a body for the undertaker."

Roy frowned in alarm, prompting Taylor to quickly reassure him. "Adam's fine, he's at home with his family, but Byron doesn't know that yet. Apparently, he just wanted to exchange a few words with Adam and after that, he high-tailed it back to town, leaving his hired gun to do the dirty work. Adam recognized him as the man who paid off Sebring all those years ago."

Roy lifted his eyebrows, digesting the information. "Good, the more we can charge him with, the better!"

"Uh, Sheriff," Folly said, feeling as though she were intruding, "if you're done with me, I'll just be going."

Roy nodded. "All right, Folly, but I'll be talkin' to ya."

She smiled and pulled her wrap tighter. "Sure, Sheriff," she replied as she went out the door. Once outside she took a deep breath and headed for the saloon. As she walked by the mercantile, she saw Tom bringing in his displays for the night. She watched him a moment and thought about what a fine man he was, maybe not in looks, but deep down, where it counted. Making a decision, she walked over to him.

He looked up, startled. "Why, Miss Folly, what brings you here?"

"Evening, Tom. I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink, over at the saloon."

Eyes wide, Tom's mouth fell open. "I…I'd…love to have a drink with you," he said, recovering his wits, "but…but…only if you'll allow me to do the buying."

Folly nodded. "If you like."

Tom bobbed his head. "Oh, yes, I'd like that fine," he exclaimed as he hurriedly shoved the rest of his merchandise in the door and locked it. That done, he quickly ran a hand through his hair and then shyly offered her his arm. She gladly took it, feeling freer than she had in a long time. Dirk was dead and no longer had a hold on her, romantically or otherwise; Adam was safe; the sheriff had a solid case against the Farrows; and it sounded as if Billy might not hang, after all. Thank goodness! She looked up and smiled at Tom.