Chapter 12

Jarrod sat in the doctor's waiting area with both his brothers, his face in his hands. Nick and Heath could only look at each other as Jarrod looked up at the door to the treatment room and said, "That was meant for me. Turner got in the way."

"The killer's getting careless, shooting in broad daylight in the street like that," Heath said. Heath sat beside Jarrod, trying to rein in his own despair, wishing he could be with Turner right now. Turner was one of the best men he knew.

"Maybe he was after Turner," Nick mused. "Maybe the shooter knew Turner knew who he was."

Jarrod shook his head. "I don't think Turner had let on to anybody that he suspected who the shooter was. Judging from the direction, that shot was meant for me."

Heath said, "Maybe somebody saw the shooter this time."

"Is that where Fred is?" Jarrod asked. "Checking for witnesses?"

"Yeah," Nick said.

They had already been waiting for more than an hour. Heath got up for the tenth time and began to pace. Jarrod was ready to jump out of his skin, but was afraid that if he began to move, he'd go find the sheriff, then go find the shooter, and then just kill that man.

Nick knew both his brothers were in trouble right now, Heath because Turner was his friend, Jarrod because Turner was hurt because of him. Nick wasn't used to being the only one whose feelings weren't running away with him. He wasn't used to being the stable one, but he was now. He had to be now.

The treatment door opened and Dr. Merar came out. Jarrod jumped up. Dr. Merar looked very tired. The front of the apron he wore when he was removing bullets was bloody.

"He's alive," Dr. Merar said. "He's in for a fight, though. I've done what I can do, and the rest is up to him."

"Is he awake?" Jarrod asked.

"Yes, and he wants to talk to you, but only for a minute, Jarrod."

Jarrod hurried in, and when Heath went in behind him, Dr. Merar let him. Nick and the doctor waited in the doorway, watching and listening.

"Turner, I'm right here," Jarrod said.

Heath took hold of Turner's hand. Turner gave him a weak grin and said, "Don't worry, Heath. I'll be playing poker again by Friday night."

"Get well before you start giving money away," Heath said.

Turner looked toward Jarrod. "Steve Carlin," he said. "The man you want is Steve Carlin." Turner started to weaken, and he fought to get the rest out. "Wrangler at the Stevenson ranch. Go get him."

"Thank you, Turner," Jarrod said.

Turner lost consciousness, but he had a smile on his face.

"Out," Dr. Merar said quietly and ushered the Barkley men out.

Jarrod headed straight out the door to the street, with Heath and Nick right behind him. In a moment they were at the sheriff's office, but he wasn't there. They went back out onto the street to look for him, moving fast even though they didn't know where to go. Nick and Heath flanked Jarrod, not sure whether this Carlin fellow was still around and planning to take another shot at their older brother. They finally came upon the sheriff near the courthouse.

"Steve Carlin, from the Stevenson ranch," Jarrod said immediately. "That's what Turner was trying to tell me when he was shot. Carlin is the guy with the uneven shoe."

Sheriff Madden said, "You best get into your office in the courthouse, Jarrod. I haven't found anybody here in town. Nick, Heath, will you go out to the Stevenson place with me?"

Jarrod had been persona non grata at the Stevenson place since he was forced to kill several of the Stevenson men in a shootout in the street some months earlier. Jarrod just headed wordlessly for his office, while Nick and Heath - watching Jarrod until he reached the courthouse - went with the sheriff up to the livery to get their horses.

XXXXXXX

Steve Carlin was a young man, new to the area, born with one leg shorter than the other and it had never caught up. All through his life he had fought a bad hip because of those uneven legs, and put up with people staring at him like he was a freak, but a few years ago, a doctor had spotted him on the street in Modesto and recommended this special shoe. It was a godsend. The pain in his hip practically disappeared, and he could walk like a normal human being. And not too many people even noticed that his shoes were different.

Carlin knew, as he watched the sheriff and the Barkley brothers ride into the stable yard where he worked at the Stevenson ranch, that the game was up for him. Maybe somebody had seen that shoe, or seen him, or something like that, but he knew the sheriff had come for him. Carlin watched Mr. Stevenson talking to the sheriff and the Barkley brothers, and he made his decision.

He quietly slipped through the stable and out the back door to make a run for it, but there was no horse available out there. He went back into the stable to try to get to a horse, but he was too late. The sheriff and the Barkley brothers were there in the stable, looking at him.

"I want to talk to you, Carlin," Sheriff Madden said.

Carlin looked from the sheriff to the two Barkleys and to Mr. Stevenson standing behind them. He couldn't run. It wouldn't work. "About what?" he asked.

"About you being seen by Sam Davison after you shot him," Sheriff Madden said.

"I didn't shoot anybody," Carlin said.

"Steve, you best go with the sheriff," Stevenson said. "Saddle a horse and go."

Carlin gave in, at least for the time being. While all four men watched him, he saddled a horse, and soon he was riding with the sheriff and the Barkleys toward town. Unarmed, he knew he didn't have much of a chance to get away, but he also knew he had saddled the fastest horse in the Stevenson livery. Carefully, he pulled ahead of the three men escorting him, and as soon as he saw his chance, he took off.

Heath saw the move coming, and he was ahead of Nick and the sheriff in chasing Carlin. Heath's own horse was one of the fastest in the Barkley stable, and soon he was catching up to Carlin, while they both were pulling away from Nick and the sheriff.

It took almost a mile for Heath to catch up to Carlin, but he did, and he went flying out of the saddle, grabbing Carlin and letting momentum push them both out into the road. Soon they were on the ground. Heath hit the man, and Carlin swung back. Carlin made a grab for Heath's gun, but Heath got to it quicker. Straddling Carlin in the dirt, he shoved his gun in Carlin's face and cocked it. Carlin froze.

"You've shot a lot of men, you tried to kill my brother, and you shot one of my best friends instead," Heath said quietly, tensely, very seriously. "If you even bat an eyelash, I'm gonna shoot you, and nobody will question what I did."

Nick and the sheriff caught up and dismounted, but they stood safely away as Heath climbed to his feet and pulled Carlin up with him. As soon as they were standing, Heath holstered his gun and shoved Carlin toward the sheriff. Fred Madden had handcuffs with him, and he cuffed Carlin.

"I'm gonna go get the horses," Heath said and walked further up the road to get his horse and Carlin's and bring them back.

"You know," Nick said into Carlin's face, "the funny thing is, you're gonna need a good lawyer."

Carlin spat in Nick's face.

Sheriff Madden spun Carlin away before Nick could get a hold on him. "Take it easy, Nick. You'll get the last laugh when he swings from a rope."

Carlin said, "No," and remembered the doctor who had gotten him this shoe. "I already got the last laugh."

Nick made a grab for him again, but again the sheriff pulled Carlin out of his way. Neither Nick nor the sheriff knew what Carlin's last laugh was and neither one cared. Neither one cared what Carlin had against lawyers that was driving him to kill them. They were just relieved they finally had him in custody.

By now, Heath was coming back, leading his and Carlin's horses. "You all right?" Nick asked him.

Heath nodded. "A whole lot better than I was a few hours ago."