Chapter 12

Steve Carlin was 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. The doctor even paid for it. It was a godsend. The pain in his hip practically disappeared, and he could walk almost like a normal human being. And not too many people even noticed that his shoes were different.

Carlin knew, as he watched the Barkley brothers and their houseman ride out of town, that something was up. Maybe somebody had seen that shoe, or seen him, or something like that, but the Barkleys were being very careful and very protective of both the lawyer and the servant. Carlin remembered seeing Silas on the street. He didn't know if the black man had seen him, or if he knew who he was seeing if he did, but Carlin suspected. He suspected everyone all the time, but right now – the lawyer with the servant, both protected by the Barkley men he had played poker with – he really felt a bad itch.

But what to do about it?

Carlin was on the street when he watched the Barkleys leave town. He didn't think they had seen him. He didn't think anyone knew what he was doing or had connected his limp and his shoe with the killings going on, but now he was feeling more uncomfortable. Maybe it was time to move on.

He had been staying at a small hotel off the main streets. He went there quickly to fetch his belongings. He paid his bill and was out of there heading for the train station as quickly as possible.

What he didn't know was that the sheriff spotted him coming out of the hotel with his bag.

Sheriff Madden was no fool. He knew that whoever this guy was, he had the limp, and when he looked as closely as he could from a distance, he saw the shoes too. This guy was leaving town. He must have known he'd been spotted.

The sheriff quickly went into the hotel and got the man's name. Then even more quickly he hurried to the train station. It would take time for the man to buy a ticket, and the next train wouldn't be coming in for another half hour. It didn't even take luck for Sheriff Madden to spot Steve Carlin as soon as he had bought his ticket.

Sheriff Madden stepped in front of Carlin, stopping him, saying, "I want to talk to you, Mr. Carlin."

Carlin dropped his bag, turned and ran.

"Stop, Carlin!" the sheriff yelled and drew his gun.

But he didn't have to use it. Shad – that otherwise timid railroad agent who manned the depot – came out just in time to trip Carlin up. Carlin went sprawling, face first, while other people shrieked in surprise and got out of the way.

Sheriff Madden caught up to him, holstered his gun, and pulled Carlin up.

"What do you want me for?" Carlin blurted.

"I have a lot of questions to ask you. You come on with me."

XXXXXX

As he hustled Carlin to the jail, Sheriff Madden ran into one of his deputies and told him to go after the Barkleys who were heading home. "Get them back here. Tell them I have someone I want them to see."

Sheriff Madden shoved Carlin into his office roughly, closing the door hard behind them and pushing Carlin into a chair. Carlin didn't say anything. He didn't even look at the sheriff.

Sheriff Madden said, "Here's what I know about you. You played cards at the Empire the other night and told people there you were a hand tool salesman, but nobody in town recollects you coming to their shop to sell hand tools. I've got several attorneys around town who have been shot lately, three of them killed. One was shot this morning in an alley, and I have a witness who saw you go into that alley. I have enough to lock you up and charge you – "

"No," Carlin said, finally looking up at the sheriff. "I may have gone into an alley but I didn't shoot anybody. And if I lied in a poker game about what I do for a living – do you think I was about to tell men I was trying to win money from that I was a professional gambler?"

"Professional gambler, huh?" the sheriff said doubtfully. "I know your name. I can check you out with other law and other poker joints in the valley."

"Go ahead, do it," Carlin said. "I'm not hiding anything."

"Then why were you leaving town? Why did you just try to run away from me at the depot?"

"You think I'm always honest at poker? You might have something on me about that, but I haven't killed or shot anybody."

Sheriff Madden pulled him up and pushed him toward the cell block. "I'm arresting you on suspicion of murder. Just make yourself comfortable for a while."

Carlin went into the cell and kept quiet after that. Sheriff Madden could tell he was sweating, though. The sheriff knew that if all he had was Silas seeing the man going into the alley, it wouldn't be enough, but maybe if Carlin got nervous enough, he'd confess. Sheriff Madden intended to make him as uncomfortable as he could. He closed the cell block door hard, cutting off any chance Carlin would have any communication. He'd be alone with his thoughts, and the sheriff hoped they were thoughts that scared him.

It wasn't very long before the Barkleys and Silas were back, coming into the office with the deputy. The sheriff told the deputy to go check on Sam Davison at the doctor's office and the deputy went out.

"I picked up a fella named Steve Carlin, trying to leave town," the sheriff said. "He's got the limp and he's got the boots, and he all but confessed he played poker with you boys the other night. He even said he may have gone into an alley."

"But he didn't confess to any of the shootings," Jarrod said.

"No," Sheriff Madden said. Then he looked at Silas. "Silas, can I ask you to have a look at this man and see if he is the one you saw go into the alley?"

Jarrod intervened. "Sheriff, can we hold off on that for a bit? Silas only saw him from the back and he was walking. That's the only way he could identify him, and I'm not sure we ought to expose Silas to him just yet."

"Well, I admit," the sheriff said, "that kind of identification isn't going to send this guy to prison or even to court. Silas, if you're uneasy, we can wait a day or so for you to have a look at him."

Silas said, "I want to do the right thing, Sheriff. The thing that will help the best."

"Waiting a few minutes to hear how Sam is doing won't hurt," Jarrod said. "I'll feel a lot better if it isn't only Silas who identifies this guy."

"All right," the sheriff said. "Nick, Heath – will one of you take a look at him?"

"I'll do it," Heath said. "I'm the one who saw him on Sunday." The sheriff opened the cell block door.

"While he's doing that, I'm gonna go check on Sam myself," Nick said and started for the door.

He'd barely got the words out before the deputy and Mark Schenk came in the door. The deputy said, "I ran into Mr. Schenk headed this way from the doc's office."

Schenk was smiling. "Sam's awake. He's gonna be all right."

"Did he see who shot him?" Jarrod asked quickly.

"He sure did," Schenk said. "Sam said he saw the fella straight in the face, and after he shot him, he saw him walking away. With a limp and uneven shoes."

Heath came back in from the cell block and said, "That's him. That's the guy who played cards with us."

Everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief.

The sheriff looked at Jarrod. "It'll be a stronger case if we can identify this guy as entering the alley."

Jarrod nodded, and said, "Silas - ?"

Silas nodded quickly.

Heath was still at the cell block door. Silas came forward, and Heath opened the door for him.

After seeing Heath looking at him and confirming him, Carlin had his back turned. He turned to look at Silas, but then turned away again. Silas got a good look at his back and came back into the office. "That's the man," Silas said quietly.

Everyone in the room breathed even easier. The pieces were all fitting together.

"Thank you, Silas," Sheriff Madden said, then smiled at everyone. "I think we've got him."

"You know," Nick said, "the funny thing is, this Carlin's gonna need a good lawyer."