Twenty Three

Excerpt from Ch 22: The deputy started grinning wide. He liked this man's way of thinking. "No problem," Mr. Long said as he started up the few steps that led to the saloon's brown swinging doors while Nick moved up onto the boardwalk, but stayed away from the window. If the idea was to surprise Macklin with his appearance, there was no reason to let himself be seen too early. Soon the deputy had disappeared into the saloon.

~oOo~

Macklin had just started to rise from the table he was sitting only to drop back down, his eyes wide in astonishment. He blinked his eyes thinking he had to be more tired than he thought. Still, the sight of the dark haired, hot tempered rancher from Stockton did not go away. Not knowing what the Barkleys were hiding from him, or of what was going on out at the shack he'd stolen, Macklin grew excited. Jarrod might not have been willing to help him, but this Barkley son was known for his womanizing and 'untameable' spirit. With that line of thinking, Macklin was more than thrilled to see Nick walking towards him.

For his part, it was all Nick could do not to fly through the air and start pounding the corrupt federal agent that stood in his line of sight. Simply walking up and talking to Macklin, trying to say something that would make the man slip up and say something, was going against every natural reaction in Nick.

"Well, Mr. Barkley, what a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect to see you here." Macklin leaned back in his chair and smiled; his smile slid from one of his ears to the other just like a snake slithering back and forth through grass; at least, Nick thought it did. "Won't you join me?" Macklin pointed a chair to his left, one that sat closer a few feet away from him, near the middle of the table.

Nick felt sick to his stomach, but did not show it. "Thanks, but no thanks. I've been sitting long enough. I was hoping to find you here." He then went on to say Jarrod had told the family what Macklin had wanted him to do. "With all due respect, that wasn't very smart. Jarrod's not like that."

Macklin bristled slightly; he had asked Jarrod not to talk about their visit. Then again, Nick was his brother and, after what had happened last time, the eldest son probably felt he needed to tell the family everything. "Maybe, but I was desperate. Though," Macklin smiled again, once more making Nick felt sick to his stomach and having to fight to keep control of himself, knowing what the man was about to say. He was right. "I assume there's a chance to enlist your help? I mean, you didn't come from California to Wyoming just to tell me asking your brother for help again was a mistake."

Holding onto the top of the chair in front of him, Nick leaned slightly forward and spoke in an uncharacteristically low tone of voice, "No, I didn't. I came to ask you a question."

Macklin had shock waves and a very uneasy feeling start to roll over him. The look in Nick's eyes had turned hard and cold, along with the tone in his voice; it had changed from an annoyed sound to a downright dangerous one. "He knows something" a gut feeling sounded in Macklin's ears, but he hurried and denied it to himself. How could Nick know anything? He was just a hot tempered rancher from Stockton. "What is it?" Macklin straightened up and hid the uneasiness growing inside him.

"What would you say if I told your friend, Jack Roberts, tried to kill me? What if I told you; he said it was by your orders?" Nick added in the second part; even if it was a lie, in hopes of getting Macklin riled enough to allow himself to slip and unintentionally confess to anything illegal…even if they already had proof.

Macklin's eyes popped wide open and his mouth hit the floor. Unbeknownst to Nick, Macklin had mentioned going back to California and making Jarrod pay for not cooperating with him. That being the case, he thought that perhaps Mr. Roberts had wrongly interpreted him. "I ordered no such thing!" Macklin snapped as quietly as he could; he didn't want to attract attention. There were enough patrons around playing cards, drinking or talking that he didn't want to draw anyone's attention, and then there was the fact that he could see the deputy visiting the bartender.

"Not what he said after I returned his fire and wounded him." Nick said, unwilling to tell Macklin the man had actually died within minutes of being shot. "He said a number of things." Nick wasn't surprised when fear entered Macklin's eyes.

"Whatever he said, he's lying. I never ordered anything to be done that would affect you or any member of your family!" Macklin started to stand up only to find Nick moving like lightning. Before Macklin knew it, he felt Nick pushing him back down into his chair. "You're not going anywhere! You ordered the deaths of more than one person including Miss Beacher's!" Nick snapped, forgetting about his vow to be patient or tricking Macklin into making a confession. "The law knows it! It also knows everything else you've been up to! You're not going anywhere the law doesn't take you to from now on!"

"You're crazy!" Macklin hissed. "You don't have any proof of what you say and, even if you did, you've got no right to detain me!" He again started to rise only to find himself being forced down upon his chair once more. He opened his mouth to say more, only to have Nick unlace the leather strings that were attached to the vest together and move his vest aside. The deputy badge Jarrod's friend had given the brothers again shown as clear as day.

"What were you saying?" Naturally, Nick's actions had every patron in the room turning to see what the problem was. Those who were in a position turned around. The people who couldn't see the star, but watched the exiting patrons, either did the same or at least changed their position.

Macklin cursed as he saw the deputy step away from the bar and look his way. A smart man would have simply given up, but any brains Macklin had had fled long before he ever stepped into Wyoming. He knew fighting Nick and the deputy were useless, but he could at least kill Nick before anyone had time to stop him.

"Well, as wrong as you are," Macklin said holding his arms out to the side, "I guess I have no choice but to go with you. However," He brought his left hand in and took a hold of the side of his suit coat. "I will still have to pay my bill."

Nick wasn't fooled. He knew the man wasn't going for his wallet, but for what was probably something like a derringer. That being the case, he was prepared when Macklin tried to whip out the small pistol he carried in an inside pocket. Before Macklin knew what was happening, the chair under him was falling to the floor while his body was hitting the wall behind him; blood from a shot to his chest began spreading over his freshly washed white shirt. Macklin tried to talk but all he could do was stare at Nick and then slide to the floor dead as he could be.