Chapter 5

Heath caught the afternoon train to San Francisco. It was late when it rolled in, so he didn't have any time to begin looking for his oldest brother. It was just as well. He'd been thinking about it and thinking about it and could not figure out even where to start.

A businessman, Nick had said, and a ruthless one maybe, but gone now, disappeared again. Maybe. Heath decided he wanted a meal and something to drink. He thought for a minute that a businessman might do a bit of traveling, so he headed for the nearest place to the train station to get something to eat, thinking that maybe Jarrod would have gone in there at some time and he might find out some tidbit of information there. It was a saloon, fairly noisy at this hour, but Heath still found a place at the bar, a beer and a sandwich.

"Maybe you can give me some advice," he said to the bartender, loudly over the noise. "I'm looking for a man, businessman type. He lived here a couple years ago but he might not anymore. Name of Jim Brooks or Brooker or something like that."

The bartender smirked. "All you got is a businessman with a name like Brooks? That ain't much to go on."

"He had real black hair and real blue eyes. Ladies liked the looks of him. Since you're closest to the train station, maybe you saw him come in here."

The bartender still shook his head, but one of the saloon girls overheard him. "Jim Brooks?" she asked.

Heath looked at her. She was not young and had a few miles on her. "Maybe," Heath said. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She nodded to the bartender, who gave her a small whiskey.

"Seen him lately?" Heath asked.

She shook her head. "Not for a few years. I heard he left town."

Heath had no idea if they were talking about Jarrod or not. He thought about that photo Victoria had showed him and remembered something. "He had a little mole on his right jaw."

"I don't remember anything like that. Hey, Linda!" she called to another girl.

This one was younger. She came over from a table where some men were playing poker.

The first saloon girl asked her, "Do you remember a Jim Brooks?"

"Yeah," she said. "He used to come in here. He hit a lot of the places around here, as I recall. Cute as they come with those blue eyes, but there was something odd about him. Looked like a gentleman, but sometimes he was nervous like. One of the girls who used to work here said he shoved her around a couple times. I haven't seen him in ages. I figure he's dead."

"Did he have a mole on his jaw?" Heath asked, touching the spot on his own face.

"I think he did, but I'm not sure."

"What happened?" Heath asked. "Did he just drop out of sight?"

"Yeah," the younger girl said. "Maybe three years ago."

Heath kept thinking. Maybe this man was Jarrod, maybe not, but some things about him were lining up. "What kind of business was he in? Do you know?"

The girls both shrugged. "He never talked about it much," the younger one said. "Freight, I think. Something that made decent money. But I heard he sold out, right before he disappeared."

"It was freight. I'll tell you where to go," the older woman said, as if something had clicked and she was remembering more. "He had an office right down the way, it's called Malloy Freight now, that's who bought it. Malloy might know something."

Heath gave it some thought. It might not have been too late for a freight office to be open. His suddenly wished he had brought that family photo that had Nick and Jarrod in it, but he hadn't wanted to take it away from his mother. He thanked the women, quickly finished his beer and sandwich, then paid the bartender and tipped the two women before he headed out the door.

He wasn't lucky. The freight office was closed. With a sigh, Heath knew the only thing he could do was get a room for the night. There was a hotel right across the street from the train station, and he was able to find a room there.

Before he turned in for the night, he sent another telegram home. In SF. Still looking for J. Will wire tomorrow. Heath

As he lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, he thought about this Jim Brooks. Several things sounded right, but it was too much to think he'd stumbled into the right man at the first saloon he went to. But then again, they said he hit a lot of places around the train depot – there were a lot of right saloons to find. And he had no other lead, and if this Brooks wasn't his lost brother, maybe the fellow who owned the freight company now might know some other lead. Freight men knew each other, just like most men in the same business knew each other.

But maybe Nick was dead wrong about all of this. The violent young man Victoria had described – how could he have turned into a businessman? Granted, nobody said businessmen weren't violent, and this Brooks certainly had his mean streak. Maybe it wasn't so far-fetched to think Jarrod and Brooks were the same man, or at least that Jarrod really had gone into business somehow.

Heath fell asleep thinking, wondering, hoping.

XXXXXXX

Heath was up early and down to that freight office as soon as he thought it might be open. He went inside and found several men looking at papers across a counter and talking. Heath knew he was arriving when business was heaviest, but he couldn't help himself. Two more days and Nick would be out of jail and gone. The clock was ticking.

As soon as one of the clerks at the counter was free, Heath went up to him. "I'm looking for the owner," Heath said.

"You found him," the man said. He was younger than Heath expected, but he looked like he knew what he was doing. "What can I do for you?"

"I hear you bought this freight business three years ago or so," Heath said.

"Yeah," the man said with a so-what look on his face.

"I'm looking for a man and he might be the one who sold it to you. Said his name was Jim Brooks."

"What do you want him for?" the man asked.

"My name's Heath Barkley. He might be my long lost brother."

"Barkley," the man said. "Stockton Barkleys?"

"Yes," Heath said.

The man chuckled. "Well, I suppose Brooks could have been a Barkley, but he didn't have the temperament and he didn't have any kin that I ever saw."

"Did you know him very well?"

"A bit."

"Black hair, blue eyes, mole on his right jaw."

"Yeah, that describes him."

"How old was he?"

"About 30, I'd say."

"Ornery cuss. Fought a lot," Heath offered.

"Blew hot and cold. Was all right sometimes but nasty as sin other times."

Heath felt encouraged. "That could have been him. Do you know where I could find him now?"

The man shook his head. "I haven't seen him since I bought the place from him. I haven't even heard anything of him. I guess he either left town or ended up in the bottom of the bay."

"Sacramento," one of the other clerks suddenly said.

Heath and the owner looked his way.

"I think he went to Sacramento," the clerk said.

"How'd you come to hear that?" the owner asked.

"He took up with one of the nurses down at the mission hospital," the clerk said. "I saw him with her when I was down that way once. Last time I was in there, that nurse wasn't there anymore. I asked and they said she went to Sacramento about three years ago, same time as Brooks sold out to you."

"Did you work for this Brooks fella?" Heath asked.

The clerk nodded. "For a few months. He was ornery, like the boss said. Blew hot and cold and you never knew which he was gonna be. I wasn't sorry to see him move along, and what this nurse saw in him, I don't know."

"Did he say anything about where he'd come from? Anything at all about himself?" Heath asked.

"No. I suspect he might have changed his name when he left here. I haven't heard hide nor hair of him since he left."

"Me, neither," the owner said.

Heath sighed. He didn't know what to do. This was the only lead he had, and it wasn't that great a lead and it was in Sacramento. But the description was right, and if it turned out the lead was wrong, at least he'd be closer to Nick and stood a better chance of getting to him before he got out of jail.

Heath thanked the men, and he checked out of the hotel and was on the next train to Sacramento.